A Circle Has No End: Volume I

by Gladi Writes

Truth

Canterlot Hospital: The foremost medical research institution on the planet, and at present possibly the busiest place as well. It was one of few buildings spared any major destruction in the attack on Canterlo- not even Mezza Luna had wanted to risk such a valuable asset.

Granted, she did try to gas the entire city a week ago, but that was all in the past. She was dead, and now Equestria could move on.

Wildcard waited with his wife, First Class, outside one of the many, many, doctors offices on the highest floor of the building. Wildcard was feeling ill, and his wife was due for a checkup anyway- so they had come together. Their doctor was a pony they both knew, although he had been “demoted” to the level of general practice.

Dr. Flankenstein GP307, as written on the door, was dealing with a patient inside. Not even the wealthy, or powerful, got to skip the line in Equestria. Wildcard read through a few Home Guard reports to pass the time, and his wife stared idly into space.

Wildcard had been busy for the past few weeks, but found himself seemingly sapped of energy. The Home Guard had dozens of threats to contain, investigate, or arrest- and he had been forced to put most of the responsibility on those below him. Silver Shield picked up some of the slack, but he wasn’t nearly as good as Wildcard. His standard protocol seemed to be arrest first, and question later, which tended to turn some heads when you arrested the mayor of Ponyville on treason charges.

First Class had done her own thing, and only rarely did they meet. When they did, it was either to silence, or to the practical matters of their work. Wildcard found he simply couldn't look her in the eye without feebly apologizing, and always to the same response.

"It isn't your fault. If I had been stronger, you wouldn't have had to do what you did. I was weak, but no more."

Wildcard flipped through the reports. Dozens of people were accusing dozens of others of treason, and nearly every time it was simply somebody trying to abuse the system to fulfill a grudge. Now and then though, the charges were true. The ponies were starting to get scared, and a few of them had been sending reports through Griffon agents, as of yet unknown, back to the Home Islands. There appeared to be a network of them all throughout Equestria, but thankfully nothing of serious importance had yet been leaked.

Yet.

It was a major problem, if they got hold of their defense strategy (Pray they don’t break through the coast), or their force deployments, they could take advantage of their strategic holes. Lives would be lost, and the war could turn.

They had yet to get any real intelligence from the Griffons too, since they seemed to take a “never surrender” protocol rather seriously. Their warriors would rush the lines when close to defeat, and force the Marines to put them down. Dozens of islands fell, but not a single prisoner was ever taken. The Saddle Arabians had given them weapons and vehicles, but only one of their advisors had ever been captured. He had managed to slip away during the Slaughter of Canterlot, and went to ground. That horse was the number one most wanted person in Equestria, but he had probably already escaped through the independent states.

The war was, in essence, stuck. They advanced, but so slowly that it would take years to even reach the Griffon Home Islands. The enemy fell back, but was bleeding them dry in doing so. The Crystal Empire had added themselves to the fight, but their rapid advance had been halted and pushed right back to the coast. Their only real hope now was to out-engineer them, and use the technological and industrial advantage they had to its utmost. That would take time though, and the factories were only just starting to produce vehicles like the Saddle Arabians had.

They, of course, already had them. They knew how to use them too, and had been hardened in battle with their machines. Machines which, in the south, inched closer to Equestria day by day. They were coming, it was just a matter of time. In only a matter of days Shining Armour would give the final order to abandon the hive, and Wildcard had given the go-ahead to burn everything on the way out. There didn't seem to be any other choice, and he could barely stay awake these days never mind plan and lead a coup. At the very least Spitfire had delayed her exit, and would be on hand to shadow the operation.

Wildcard sighed, and then coughed. His coughing continued for quite some time, while his wife watched worriedly.

“Are you alright?”

Wildcard gasped, and managed to catch his breath.

“Yeah, yeah I’m alright. It’ll take more than a cough to take me out,” He said, and smiled weakly at her.

She frowned back, “Those sound like fated last words,”

Wildcard kissed her on the forehead, and held her shoulders, “I’m fine, really.”

They stared into each others eyes, and their love was visible in the faint green glow emanating from the husband. It held them together even despite their differences, but neither knew yet how to properly reconcile them. The door opened while they were locked in embrace, and Flankenstein's patient, with a thousand-yard stare, ambled on down the hall.

“Next!”

Wildcard was first, so he got up. First Class grabbed his arm when he did, and looked sullenly into his eyes.

Wildcard swallowed his fear, and walked into Flankenstein's office. A regular GP office, with a bed covered by a thin disposable sheet of paper, basic diagnosis equipment, and a desk for the doctor. A dozen medical textbooks were lined up on it, and a clipboard with chicken-scratch scrawled on it lay atop. Wildcard took a glance at it, and then sat on the bed.

“Patient believes self to be a changeling, however she quite clearly isn’t- as confirmed by a blood test. Upon further analysis a partial-horn was found buried in the skull, and had been casting magic without control. Apparently the patient had read a spell-book on shapeshifting recently, and thus the… discovery. Patient has been referred to surgery for immediate operation. Sadly, it doesn't appear that the magic can be controlled- there simply isn't enough horn. ”

Flankenstein shook his hooves dry, and then turned to greet his new patient. He grinned nearly ear to ear, and hugged his old friend.

“Wildcard, you shapeshifting son of Luna, it’s been too long!” He exclaimed, and then pulled back hurriedly as the hug sent Wildcard into a new fit of coughing.

“You don’t look too good,” Frankenstein said, and reached for a pen-light.

“I don’t feel good either. I’ve never been the most handsome of ponies, but something is up doc.”

Flankenstein nodded, and shined the light into Wildcard’s eyes, and then examined the side of his head and ears.

“Grey hair? That’s… how old are you?” Frankenstein asked, and backed away to look Wildcard over completely.

“Thirty.”

Flankenstein reached back, and jabbed Wildcard in the arm with a needle. Wildcard didn’t even feel it pull out some of his blood, which disturbed him greatly.

“Well, its green.” Flankestein said, peering at the vial, “but that’s normal, for you anyway,” he said, and dropped the vial on his desk.

He reached for one the textbooks, and turned it to a page somewhere in the middle. It was some sort of chart, near as Wildcard could tell, and then Flankenstein levitated the vial into the air. It bubbled with magic, and then turned a shade of blue.

“Oh dear,” he said, and turned back to Wildcard.

“You’re forty, Wildcard. I did this test on your blood months ago, so I know it’s not just your changeling blood. You’ve aged ten years in the last five months.”

Wildcard was, at this point, utterly terrified. That special sort of fear one gets when a doctor looks at them and isn’t looking at a person, but a scientific problem.

“Tell me, Wildcard, what’s the average age of your people?” Flankenstein asked, and began writing on his clipboard as he inspected the changeling thoroughly.

“Twenty, I guess? We mostly end up dying in the field by the time we…”

Wildcard slumped, he figured it out.

“The time you what?”

“We hit thirty.”

Flankenstein came to the same conclusion, and put down the clip board.

“Sweet Celestia, she gave you a kill switch.”

While Wildcard receded into his mind, as despair overtook him, Flankenstein made a few frantic calls. Tests, all sorts of tests, were scheduled. X-rays, for whatever good that might do, and more blood tests. Flankenstein thought if he could figure out how the kill-switch programmed into the changeling worked, he could stop it.

Wildcard gave up. If there was one thing in the world you couldn’t beat, it was genetics. He was tired, he was sore, and he slowly slipped to sleep on the bed. The last thing he felt was Flankenstein trying to wake him up.

He didn’t want to.

First Class had been outside, knocking on the door. When she heard the PA call for an emergency team to Room 307, she kicked it down. Inside the room Flankenstein was busy giving Wildcard a heavy dose of something, with one hoof injecting him while the other was placed on his neck. He looked panicked.

There is nothing that can cause fear quite like a panicked doctor

“Flankenstein! What’s going on!” She exclaimed, and dashed to her husbands side.

She grabbed one of his hooves, which had flopped over the side of the bed.

It was cold.

“I don’t know, he just… stopped. Its like somebody pressed a button, and turned him off. I gave him one hell of a dose of epinephrine, but his heart is still weak. There-“

A team of medics barged through the door and shoved First Class back. She quickly got out of the way, and watched helplessly as they shocked her husbands heart back to life. It quite apparently wasn’t enough, and moments later he was on a stretcher being run down the hallway. Flankenstein rode on top, manually driving the changelings circulation while one of the medics fed him air through a pump.

“I don’t know what’s going on! I want full life-support until I figure out how to reverse this!” Flankenstein ordered.

“What if you can’t? He looks dead to me doctor!” One of the medics argued, and they swung around a corner into a long hallway.

“I’ll try until either I die, or they fire me! He’s not dead, he’s just been turned off!”

They rounded another corner, and went towards a pair of swinging doors. A security pony stepped out the way, and then quickly inserted himself between them and First Class.

“No visitors in intensive care. Not unless the doctor says so.”

First Class, with her brain still somewhere back in the hallway, pushed against him.

“Get out of the way, I’m the minister of state!” She shouted, and feebly slapped at his chest.

“Ma’am, Celestia herself would have to kill me to get past. No admittance.”

First Class drew back, and turned away. Her vision was blurry, and the world was seemingly being shaken around like she was in a snow-globe. She used the wall to steady herself, and caught her breath. Her face was covered with tears, and her dress soiled with perspiration.

Then she got a hold of herself, and stormed off down the hallway. She had heard something about a kill-switch, and she had an idea who might have flipped it.

Ten minutes later she, entered the quarters of Princess Luna in the University. Princess Luna nearly spat out her tea when she saw the Minister of State, covered in her own sweat and looking like she was going to murder someone, kick down her door and stride in.

“Minister Class, what is the mea-“

First Class stared at her with such an intensity that even the Princess of the Night was stunned into silence.

“I am calling an emergency meeting, right now. I need your authority to do so,” First Class demanded.

Luna put down her tea, and slid out of her chair.

“It had better be important.”

An hour later, all the heads of government were formed up in one of the empty conference rooms. It was all First Class could find on such short notice, and time was not something she had. She quickly explained the events earlier, and a few of them seemed to share her anger.

“Duke Wildcard is a citizen of Equestria, we can’t allow Chrysalis to get away with this! What about all the other changelings, is she going to murder them too?” She said, angrily striding back and forth before a shuttered window.

Celestia, who had been watching First Class angrily explain, stood.

“Minister Class, what would you have us do? If what you said is true, and Chrysalis has indeed “switched off” Duke Wildcard, then there is nothing we can do but hope there is some way to reverse this. If it is indeed the case that the other changelings await the same fate, then their destiny will mirror his. Their future lies in the skills of our medics.”

First Class shot back at her, “What would I have you do? Give me the Wonderbolts. The Magnificent is flight-worthy again. I will go down to the hive, and I will either get the cure from that bitch of a queen they have, or I will burn the entire thing to the ground.”

Shining Armour nodded, and looked to Celestia. “We were bound to engage the changelings eventually, it was only a matter of time. If there truly is some cure, Chrysalis will know. She will either give it to us to buy time, or we’ll simply be arriving at the foregone conclusion early,” he said.

“I certainly approve of this. Chrysalis is evil, and what are for if not to vanquish evil?” Spitfire added.

Luna stood, and the room turned to her.

“Spitfire and Shining, take your force and travel to the hive in force. I will come with you and… negotiate,” She said, and looked over at First Class, who's chest was still heaving with agitation.

“You will stay. Your place is with your husband. The battlefield, if it comes to that, is no place for a pregnant mare anyway. My sister will accompany you, and we will keep in contact.”

First Class watched them leave, engaged in discussion of strategy and deployment. She had gotten her way, but she was still terrified. Now that she had made her stand, she had to go back and confront reality. She plopped down on her flanks, and once again tears streamed down out of her already-reddened eyes.

Celestia quietly took her side, and First Class buried her face into her shoulders. She cried, for quite some time, before looking up at her.

“If… if she did this… If… if he dies…”

It was too terrible a thought, and the stress and exhaustion finally caught up to her. Her body gave way, and she passed out in Celestia’s arms.

Wildcard, meanwhile found himself staring into the abyss. He was no longer tired, and found he felt no fear either. He was numb to all, and swan through the abyss with a perfectly clear mind. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but he would get there soon.

An image shimmered into life before him. It was himself albeit smaller and not quite as aged. Him as a foal, long before his first mission was even a thought. His smaller self smiled at him, and swam ahead of him. It was wearing an elegant robe, fit for a king.

“We did well, didn’t we? We had power, we had prestige, and our plans came to fruition. What more can we ask for?”

Another popped into reality- or unreality- on the other side.

“Love, of course! We found that too, so much love! It flowed into us like a geyser, and made us all the more powerful!”

Another voice came from behind, and Wildcard glanced back to find another pair. One was busy drinking a mug of cider, the other held a dagger.

“So many that we brought down on the way, so many that didn’t even deserve it. We were like a wild beast, loosed on the world. So many of them, and all nearly all of them forgotten. So trivial were their lives, and such was there deaths,” the daggered-one said.

“It was all worth it. Cider, pie, what’s a few innocent deaths if we get to enjoy a life of plenty?” The other one said, taking a momentary break in guzzling a seemingly infinite mug.

Wildcard, himself, stared back forward. Or was it really forward? It was forward relative to his body, anyway.

“I don’t think it’s quite that… dark. I ended some lives, yes, but they all deserved it, or knew the risks. Soldiers, guards, ponies of power. They all knew what they were in for when they took those positions,” he said,

“Really? Were they all so trivial that you forgot the rest? What about the mare you stole the form of to gain entrance to a castle? She was executed for treason days later! What about Velvet Glove? She hadn't even hurt you. What about the two guards you killed on assignment once? They were both fresh recruits, conscripted into duty. You didn’t plant any trees for them…”

“Why feel bad! You’re a killer, Wildcard, it’s what you are. Be true to yourself, and face up to it. There’s power at the edge of the dagger, and the pony that feels no guilt will go far,” The one ahead, wearing the robe, said.

“That’s… that’s not true! I did what I did because it was right, I saved lives!”

“We helped Chrysalis murder entire villages, in fact we were rather instrumental in that. We kill for Equestria now, but we killed for her before. Is there any real difference, in the end? We don’t care about what’s right, we only care about what gets we more of what you crave…”

“Power,” they all said together.

“We love it,” The one at his side said.

“We have it, and we will get more of it,” the one ahead said.

“We hunger for it,” the drinking one said.

“We kill for it,” The dagger one said.

“That’s not true!” Wildcard exclaimed.

“I don’t… crave power! I only want to do what’s right for my people, and for Equestria, for First Class!”

“Are we not one of our people? What is good for us, is good for them. The stronger we are, the stronger our love is. The stronger our love is, the stronger we are. Our enemies die en masse, they are nothing on our path for greater glory. Greater power,” the dagger one said.

Wildcard frantically swatted at them all, but movement in such a place without any relativity was impossible. They just looked at him.

“Power,” they all said together.

“We love it,” The one at his side said.

“We have it, and we will get more of it,” the one ahead said.

“We hunger for it,” the drinking one said.

“We kill for it,” The dagger one said.

Is this… what he really was? Wildcard surely wasn’t a saint, but he wasn’t evil either, was he? He had done… certain things, for Chrysalis, yes, but that was so long ago- and he hardly had any choice. He had been brainwashed into thinking it was for a greater good, to protect his people from a world that wanted to exterminate them. What was good for her, was good for them. What she ordered, they did.

Was this, as they said, any different? Wildcard had definitely done some dark business for Equestria, for the greater good. He assassinated two people in Snowy Cove, and had seen dozens more to their end during the Night Guard uprising. What was good for Equestria though, was surely good in itself, was it not? They knew the risks, did they not?

What about Trotsky? Surely he had gone further than he should, but Trotsky was his enemy, and lost the game he had started himself. First Class was the best leader the ponies could hope for, and what was good for her...

Another image came into view before Wildcard, and the collective group hissed at it. It was Zeta, burned and mangled horribly. A horrible sight to behold, and it looked down at him through pale white eyes.

“You cannot escape what you are, Wildcard. You are a killer, a murderer, a destroyer of lives. You have taken so much from so many, and gained so much for yourself. Death himself marks your hoofsteps, for he knows that wherever you go- he will soon be needed. Did you ever think of why I had done what I did? Was there really no way to spare me such a cruel fate?” Zeta accused.

“I… I don’t know. I acted in the moment. You were my enemy, and I did what I’ve always done to my enemies. I… killed you,” Wildcard returned.

“You did indeed. With no remorse, with no apology, and with no second thoughts. You picked up that flamethrower, and lit me ablaze without a twinge of mercy or compassion. Did you even check to see if the job was done? I languished on the ground for two hours. Did you ever think about that?”

“No,” Wildcard replied simply.

“You are finally starting to be honest to yourself. That is why I am here, Wildcard. To pass beyond, you must know yourself for who you really are. Life is a trivial, and fleeting, thing. I bear you no ill will now, no indeed I find that it’s almost like I woke from a dream. Nothing back then matters,” Zeta said.

“So, wait, does that mean I’m dead? This is… some sort of afterlife holding chamber?”

Zeta nodded, which was highly odd to see from a nearly charcoal corpse.

“You are… in between. Your body persists, but not of its own volition. Those that love you are searching for some way to bring you back, but their chances are small. I know the whole story, Wildcard, and all of it’s turning points. This is one, and the choice comes to you,” Zeta said, and swooped down to stick his monstrous face up to Wildcard.

“You choose. Leave it all behind, and move on past such triviality. Or you can go back, but either way you will to face yourself first. There will be no leaving here until you are honest with yourself,” He said, and vanished the next moment Wildcard blinked.

“Power,” they all said together.

“We love it,” The one at his side said.

“We have it, and we will get more of it,” the one ahead said.

“We hunger for it,” the drinking one said.

“We kill for it,” The dagger one said.

“Enemy! We killed him, we brought him down! His death brought us fame, power, glory! They called us hero!” It continued.

Wildcard snapped back at him. “We are no hero! We are only a person, a person that has made certain choices in their life. Not all of these were right, but they had reason backing them. I am not a perfect person, but I do not do evil for the sake of it, for hate, or for my own vain glory! I do it because I honestly mean to do well, even if it might seem otherwise!”

The one with the dagger persisted, staring at him. Wildcard sighed, and continued.

"I killed him because it felt good. He had hurt me, he had threatened my wife, and he had threatened my position. He was my enemy, and ending him in such a final way felt good. Another stone to be stepped on, on my path forwards."

It vanished.

“Power! His death brought us power! We crave power, we enjoy power! We want more, and we will get more!” The robed one said, and Wildcard in turn faced him.

“We only want power to do what we think is right! Power is a means to an end, and that end is the salvation of my people, the protection of the Equestrian nation that has given us so much, and the future of our love! We would die for any of these, power is just a tool in our quest! We only enjoy power because we enjoy helping others, we enjoy leading because we think we lead well! We want more power because we think we can lead better than those that do! We would give it all up, every title, and every bit, if the price was our love!”

The robed one appeared to fade for a moment, but persisted.

"I really like control too, okay? Is it so wrong to enjoy authority and power? I don't do outright evil to get them, because then I would be unable to enjoy them over the guilt. I like the idea that others look to me for guidance and wisdom, because I think I'm better than them."

It vanished.

“We’re hungry,” The drinking one said.

“Well, we do like to drink, and eat as well. I don’t see what’s so wrong about that, what’s a little gluttony after a day out saving the world?”

It shrugged, and vanished.

“Love, we love her. She is the only one that ever accepted us for who we were, inside our people or out. We would die for her, we would kill for her, and we would give up cider for her. Love,” The one beside him sung.

This one confused Wildcard, he didn’t see what was wrong with love.

“I don’t understand. I love First Class, is there something wrong with that?” He asked the void.

Silence.

“I gave up my career for her, I brought down Trotsky for her, and I would fight Celestia bare-hoofed for her. What is it, I love her for who she is!”

Lie.

Wildcard considered, and dug deep inside himself.

“I love her, because she is the key to my own future. Without her, I am nothing. Without her, my power is meaningless- I wouldn’t have it to begin with! I love her…”

Wildcard sighed.

“… because I love power.”

The blackness turned to white.

Celestia left the hospital, having dropped First Class off. Minister Class was exhausted, utterly so, and had a bed of her own now. She was a strong mare, but even the strongest mare couldn’t keep up what she was doing while carrying a child. Celestia had been careless, letting her take on so much responsibility. First Class wanted to prove she was a good leader-but didn’t understand that she didn’t have to. Celestia already had faith in her, together with Twilight, to lead Equestria beyond her years.

The stress of her husband being; more or less, dead, wasn’t helping matters. Celestia strode out into the city streets, and decided to see what she herself could do. Wildcard was certainly no saint, but he had done well enough by them to deserve some small favour. At the very least he didn't deserve to die. She could contact Chrysalis, and perhaps bargain with her.

Chrysalis was a damned fool. All she gained from doing this was having the Magnificent dropped on her head. Luna wouldn’t give a damn how many refugees were in the Hive, and most had already left back for Equestria, running from the looming armies that approached closer every day. The place would be laid to waste.

What a waste it would be, all those lives. There had to be some way to prevent it, even if Spitfire and Shining Armour were right, and confrontation was inevitable.

A pony bumped into her while she walked, and then quickly ran away. They seemed to have dropped something, which Celestia leaned down to pick up. It didn’t take her long to figure out what had happened when she saw the stamp on the letter.

It was stamped with the flag of the Changeling Hive. Celestia shot into the air to open the letter and read it without any prying eyes, and found a very simple message.

“We need to talk. Twelve miles south of Appleloosa, you will know it when you see it,”

Celestia wasted no time, and teleported herself to Appleloosa. She wasn't going to waste any time, and immediately shot off to the south as soon as she shimmered into existence above the town. Down below a dust-storm ravaged the area, and smothered it all in a suffocating fog of red.

With no climate controlling pegasi, the entire settlement had been forced to flee. Appaloosa was no more, just a ghost-town in the ever-expanding desert.

Celestia flew over the desert, and soon came to a forest. The very edge of the badlands, inside which was almost inhospitable wasteland even in the best of times. The forest that she saw was an accidental result of weather-management, which had created a pocket of damp, nearly tropical, climate out here. It was dying now, and would soon be nothing but a million grey sticks, a monument to natures apathy for life.

Celestia flew over it, and did indeed quickly see what the changeling sending the message had meant. There was a great hole in the ground, and a few dust-covered stone structures stood within. Celestia swooped down, and landed gently on the stone floor. Her landing kicked up a sizable amount of dust, and she coughed while the cloud swirled around.

When the dust faded, a changeling stood before her. He was clad in thick armour, which shined in the dim orange sunlight. It was brand new armour, crafted specifically for him. It was made of thick steel, and gilded with gold. The breastplate was a series of green gems that formed an image of the Changeling flag.

That armour was probably worth more than the hive itself.

He looked up at Celestia, and stared at her with those calculating eyes she remembered from a few months back. Medulla, Chrysalis’ right hoof in managing Changeling affairs. He was also, as Celestia understood it, her consort. His eyes, with a red iris that peered forward and seemed to pierce through you, made him stand out from his peers.

“What do you want?” Celestia asked.

She would have to be careful with this one. There was no doubt that even if his intentions were good at the moment, anything she said that could somehow benefit Chrysalis would be used as such. Anything, even the slightest use of a word. It was time to put on her best poker face.

“I want peace eternal, of course. I think there has been a misunderstanding, so I come to ensure that the peace between our peoples continues. Eta-Delta has fallen ill, yes?”

Eta-Delta, Wildcard’s changeling serial. Clever, if Celestia responded with it the signal would be that he was still a changeling, and beholden to Chrysalis.

Celestia got bold.

“Director Wildcard, Duke of Equestria, Director of the Home Guard, and honourable citizen of Equestria, is indeed ill. It would appear that, somehow, his body has shut down. Minister of State, First Class, is on the way to the hive…”

She stepped forward to loom over the changeling. That height, as much as it cost in doorways, had its advantages.

“… to talk,” she finished.

Medulla looked up at her, unfazed.

“Of course, we knew of them coming. That’s why I sent for you. I knew you would be more reasonable than they would. I fear it will get heated if they start demanding things. Chrysalis can’t give out the information you seek so publicly, and there’s a rather large camp of ponies that could… get caught in the middle,” Medulla said.

She’s going to use the damn refugees as hostages. To think, Chrysalis had once been a pony. Celestia’s stare turned to a scowl.

“If you think that will stop Luna, you are sorely mistaken. Chrysalis has started openly threatening the lives of our citizens, and she will destroy you before giving into any threat. If you threaten her with such terrorism as taking hostages, she will turn the hive to slag,” Celestia returned.

“I know she will, which is why I came to you. Like I said, I feel you will be more reasonable. I will give you the information you seek, and the only price is that you keep it secret,” Medulla said.

“No.”

Medulla sighed, the first sign of emotion thus far.

“Fine, have it your way. I think you’ll see wisdom in keeping it secret anyway,” He said, and turned away.

He walked towards the temple-like structure that stuck out of the side of the clearing, and then turned back to Celestia. She watched him keenly.

“You stand on hallowed ground, Celestia. The original founders of my race make this their final resting place. They faced the same problem that Eta-Delta faces. Chrysalis was wise when she made us, but nature has it’s limits. We don’t generate our magic, but there is an additional physiological effect at work as well. They all died before finding some way to cure it, and it’s the reason we live where we do now,” he said, and pulled something out of his armour.

It was a hive mushroom.

“A simple protein, and we were lucky enough to find a species of mushroom that contains it. Science at that time was unable to explain why these mushrooms are so important to us, but we know now,” He said, and ate it.

“Eta-Delta however, is far beyond that. Our reliance on the hive-mushrooms stems on a purposeful element in Chrysalis’ design. A kill-switch, in essence. She had planned for it be triggered by this protein, but instead it works in reverse. Eta-Delta is dead, but you have one option available to save him,” He said, and slowly walked back to Celestia.

“Would you trade one life, for another?” he asked.

“If it serves the greater good, perhaps. Ponies have donated organs before, it’s an honourable and great sacrifice to make,” Celestia replied.

Medulla grinned, “oh, this is no noble sacrifice. The only way to save him now, is for him to drain a pony of their entire life force. It will be painful for them, and I highly doubt you’ll find a volunteer. Another changeling needs to give him a spark, and then Eta-Delta can do the rest.”

Celestia’s stared at him. She simply didn’t have any reply at that time. Damn Chrysalis, damn her forever! She did this on purpose. Celestia could save Wildcard, but the cost was incredible.

A life for a life, was his worth it? Who was she to judge?

Celestia sighed.

“Leave.”

Medulla grinned at her, and then took his time walking around her towards the stone staircase leading outwards.

He glanced back, and gave her his parting words.

“So what matters more, Celestia? Keeping your precious morality, or doing what is best for your state? If he dies, I fear his hopes of “integration” will die with him.”

“A shame, really.”

Celestia fumed silently, while Medulla trotted up the stairs. She had a decision to make, and there was no right one.

Celestia had half a mind to just go with Luna and lay waste to the hive, but Medulla was right. Those refugees would die in the crossfire. If she could stretch peace out further, just a few months more, she could do it, somehow. Get them home first, and then Chrysalis would face her justice.

Then she had a flash of insight, and made her decision. She would not carry it out gladly, but she had no choice.

Wildcard would live.

Celestia spared no time in returning to Canterlot, and realized the time when she popped back into existence over it. It was nearly nightfall, and a bone-chilling wind was cutting through the air. She flew down not towards the hospital, but for the scaffolding-covered castle. Just beside it was a small building, which was unmarked and unlit. She set down, and walked towards it.

The only sign of it’s importance was the letters over the thick wooden doors, which were the only way inside the windowless hut.

H.S.F.A.C.P

High Security Foreign Alien Containment Prison

Celestia unlocked the doors, magically, and strode inside. A guard stood by a series of monitors, and a single lever. In the centre a metal elevator would take her down.

The guard shot to attention, and drew his gun. As much as it was standard procedure, having a gun pointed at her was still somewhat un-nerving.

“Hold! I’ve got to check you off, standard procedure.”

“Of course,” Celestia said, and he approached her with a small hoof-held device.

He ran it over her, slowly, “so what brings yourself to our little corner of Hell?” he asked.

“I’m about to make a decision that will send me right back here,” Celestia said.

The guard stepped back, and the comment seemed to go right over his head. He read the device, and whistled.

“Wow, seventy. I didn’t even know these went that high,” he said, and quickly strode back to his station.

Celestia took a position on the platform, and he approached her with a medallion in his hoof. Once it was around Celestia’s neck, he reached back, and pulled the lever.

The platform clanked, and juttered into motion. Downwards into the darkness Celestia went, and she didn’t bother to light her horn. It took a long time to descend, and she kept going over the last few months in her mind.

It was as if fate decided that, no; they simply weren’t allowed an easy life. Everything had been thrown at her, all at once. Equestria had lost its peace, and Celestia had lost her innocence. She had never ordered an execution before, and neither her nor Luna had done something like this.

She reached the bottom, and strode forward to face another guard, behind a steel mesh window. He looked up at her, and was stunned by Celestia. She looked right through him, her face that of total resignation.

“Bring me Archer.”

First Class awoke, and yawned. She opened her eyes to find herself in a hospital room, and tried to sit up. She found a hoof on her chest when she did so, and looked up to see Silver Shield sitting beside her. He was clad in a uniform of the Equestrian Home Guard, and had been taking on Wildcard’s role recently.

“You need to rest, for the child,” he said.

“I’m fine, and it's fine too. I want to see my husband,” First Class said, and pushed against him.

“He’s in a coma, Flankenstein is with him. There’s nothing we can do, only hope in the doctor,” Silver said.

First Class laid back, and sighed.

“I don’t like this Silver, I don’t like being helpless. I want to fight, but I’m not sure who to kill,” she said.

Silver snorted, “Chrysalis, probably. That’s a matter for the military though. You, rest. You’ve done your part,” he said.

First Class cocked an eyebrow at him, and looked at him more closely. He was far younger than Wildcard, by a good ten years. Strong, handsome, and probably a great soldier in the service of Chrysalis.

“Silver, why? Why are you good to us, to me?”

Silver smiled, and gently pulled the covers over First Class.

“Because he is the best hope for my people’s future, but he is also marked by the evil of Chrysalis. You balance it, temper it. Without you, he would just be Chrysalis with a few new organs; perhaps not quite as bad, but no great leader either. You, and your child, will bring us to the promised land,” he said.

“The promised land?” First Class asked, and yawned again. She fell asleep before she could hear the answer.

“Equestria,” Silver said.

There was a knock on the door, and he turned to see an Equestrian soldier standing there. He motioned Silver outside.

“No, I must stay with the wife. No harm must come to her,” he said.

“We’ll take care of that, Celestia wants you,” he said.

“Why?” Silver asked.

The guard simply stared at him, and he got the feeling this wasn’t a request. He looked at the guard closely as he got up, and raised a flap on his jacket to reveal a sharp dagger.

“If anything happens to her, I will find you,” Silver threatened.

“If anything happens to her, Luna will beat you to it. Now get going, she’s in the psych ward,” The guard said, and gestured down the hall.

Silver left, and found that the guard was complemented by thirty more, all lined up in the hall. He felt better now.

“Why there?” Silver asked.

“It’s padded,” The guard replied.

Silver cocked his head at him, but received no further clarification. He took off down the hallway, and followed the signage down a few stairways to the basement. There, in a dark hallway, he found the doors to the psyche ward. Two centurions, heavily armed, stood guarding it.

When they saw him, they came to attention, and pushed the doors open for him.

“Sparkplug has arrived,” one of them muttered into a small radio at his chest.

Silver strode in, and inside found the lighting almost blinding compared to before. The hall was eerily quiet, and he walked past dozens of empty, padded, cells. The end of the hall two wide doors were open, and past them a dark figure was strapped to a chair in a wide room. Nearby another was on a stretcher, plugged into an army of machines, beeping away as they did the best impression of life possible with soulless machinery.

That would be Wildcard, but who was the other? Silver walked in, and two other centurions quickly slipped out, and closed the doors behind them. Celestia stood in the corner, and Flankenstein monitored Wildcard’s machines.

“I can’t force you to do this, Silver, but I doubt I have to,” Celestia said, and flicked a switch, which changed the lights to focus on the dark figure.

Silver recognized the figure on the chair. Archer, the most wanted pony in Equestria for a long, long, time.

“To do what?” Silver asked, and looked him over more closely.

He was clearly drugged into submission, and was clamped quite tightly to that chair. He had apparently been beaten recently, and was covered in bruises.

“You must give Wildcard a spark from this thestral, and then Wildcard will…”

Celestia sighed, and stared at him with a gaze that made him wilt.

“Consume his life force. He will be saved, and this thestral will die,” she finished.

Silver whistled. “Dark, but a fitting end for one such as he,” He said, and his horn glowed a gentle green.

Celestia stepped back, and flicked another switch. The room, except for Archer, became dark.

Silver leaned over him, and tried to drain him. It wouldn’t work, he wasn’t awake. The only way to do it was to either have their defenses up, and walk past them- through love, or to simply crush the defenses- fear.

“Wake him,” Silver said to Flankenstein.

“I was afraid you would say that,” He said, and quickly jabbed Archer with some chemical before just as quickly backing away.

Archer coughed, and awoke to the snarling face of Silver bearing down on him.

He wet himself.

It didn’t take long for Silver to take what he needed, while Archer looked at him with horrified eyes. Silver then pointed his horn at Wildcard, and transferred this energy off.

Wildcard coughed, and awoke himself. He looked at Silver, and then at Archer.

“Take him, it’s the only way to cure yourself,” Silver Shield said, and backed away into the dark.

Wildcard slipped off the stretcher, and peeled the medical instruments off himself. Archer tilted his head over, and somewhere inside he realized his doom,

“Wait, what? No, you can’t do this! I haven’t been given an execution order, why are you doing this?” He said frantically.

Wildcard got up, and walked over. He said, nothing. Words would be wasted on someone that would soon be dead.

“Who ordered this? I demand Celestia be informed!” He screamed, and fought the confines of the chair frantically.

“I have been,” Celestia said in the dark.

Wildcard walked to the front of it, and put his hooves up on Archers. He looked down on the thestral, and his horn began to glow green.

“Celestia? What are you doing? Do… do you want information? I’ll te-“

He wailed in pain, and his whole body shook against the chair. Wildcard pressed on, there was no mercy for the wicked.

“Tell you anything, just make him stop! Make it stop!” Archer yelled.

He screamed, a bloodcurdling scream of absolute pain.

“Stop, make it stop! It hurts!”

“It hurts!” He yelled again.

Wildcard’s horn glowed brightly enough that the others in the room were visible. Silver watched with moderate interest, Flankenstein looked away, and Celestia stared at it. She wanted to look away, but this had been her decision. She had made the call, and she would have to live with it.

“St- aaargh- stop it! Stop it!”

He jostled with the chair again, and was then crushed against it by a burst of green energy that came off Wildcard’s horn. He could no longer speak now, but tears of pain still streamed down his face. He began to froth at the mouth, and seized relentlessly as the very essence of himself was stolen from his body.

Then, suddenly, the light ceased, and he fell still. For a few moments there was silence, and then Celestia spoke up.

“Is it done?” She asked.

Wildcard took a deep breath, and looked down at his hooves. They were no longer cracked, or dry. His hair was no longer grey, and he felt his hearing return to the clarity it had been before. He could swear he was a few inches taller, but couldn’t quite tell.

“Yes,” he said, and then looked at the corpse of Archer.

Was he really any better?

That question would have to wait, as Celestia hit the lights. The light blinded Wildcard for a moment, and when he opened his eyes again there she was. They were alone in the room now, only them and Archer’s corpse.

She was staring at him, with such a gaze that he could almost feel pressure on him. Her eyes had changed, this wasn’t the peaceful princess, naive and loving, that he had known before.

“Sit,” Celestia commanded.

Wildcard plopped his plot on the wooden floor.

“Listen.”

Wildcard did.

“I did something terrible today, and I didn’t do it for you. You are not my friend, Wildcard, nor are you someone I think very highly of. You are power hungry, you are arrogant, you are gluttonous, and you horde wealth. You’ve ordered your own soldiers to their death on a whim, and you’ve killed without remorse. Were this a perfect world, you would be in prison. This is not a perfect world however, as I have learned over the past few months. I have saved you not because I think you are worth it, I have saved you because I need you, as a tool. Without you, a great many more stand to die. You will do as I command, for as long as I command, or I will take back what is mine,” she said, “do you understand?

“I do,” Wildcard said.

“Good. If you ever disobey me, or show as much as a hint of becoming another Chrysalis, I will see that justice is done,” she said, and turned away.

“If you have any hint of a soul, you should feel guilty. I can only hope that throughout the rest of your life, that you do. Justice would be knowing that you never sleep soundly again, and the pain of what you have done to the world weighs you down like a thousand boulders. You will die alone, unloved, and all this power you have amassed will mean nothing when you are dust. History will remember you as an important nobody, a flash in the pan with a momentary agenda,” She said, and turned back.

“Now get out.”

Wildcard wasted no time, and beat a hasty retreat. He quickly burst out of the doors, and shoved his way past the centurions that had been listening outside. Silver was waiting at the end of the hall.

“I’m not sure if coming back was the best idea,” Wildcard said, and led him out of the psych ward.

“Is First Class doing well? I swear Silver, if I lose her I’m not staying,” Wildcard asked.

“She is doing fine, although she is worried. What’s with all this talk of staying, anyway?” Silver asked, as they walked.

“I’ve seen beyond, Silver. I saw who I am now, who I really am,” Wildcard said, and glanced back at him.

“I didn’t like what I saw.”

First Class was in her room, reading a copy of Pone, a popular vanity magazine, when Wildcard strode in. She felt what could only be described as total relief, and instantly a great deal of tension evaporated. Her body seemed to sink into the bed, and she smiled.

“Wildcard!”

First Class came to his side, and gave him a great hug.

“First! You have no idea how good it is to see you,” Wildcard said.

“The feeling is mutual,” she said.

Wildcard pulled back, and sighed. First Class got the feeling he was holding something back, as he kept breaking eye-contact.

“Wildcard, is something up?”

Wildcard sat on the bed, and held her hoof in his own as he stared at the wall.

“I… did some thinking, today,” he said.

“First Class, would I make a good father?”

“Yes,” Was the immediate response, but First Class quickly thought more on it.

Would he?

“I think…. I need to take a break, First. I need to be alone for a while, I think it’s for the best, for all of us,” Wildcard said.

First Class gripped his hoof.

“I nearly lost you, you can’t leave me again!”

Wildcard sighed once more, and took back his hoof.

“I know, but… are you sure you ever had me?” he asked.

First Class was perplexed by that, and stuttered a collection of syllables out.

“I won’t be gone forever, and Silver will be here to look after you. Consider it a vacation, I think it’s high time I had one,” Wildcard said, and looked at her again.

Tears beaded in her eyes, but she could see there was no arguing. He had made his decision, for whatever reason.

“I love you, Wildcard.”

Wildcard looked away, and then left.

First Class cried into her hooves, and then felt a warm touch on her shoulder. It was Silver, doing his best to console her.

“He’ll be back, he just needs to work some things out. He’ll be back even if I have to drag him back myself,” he said.

First Class chuckled softly, and wiped her eyes.

“He better be. There’s a good heart in him Silver, even if most ponies can’t see it. He’s only ever wanted to do what’s right, but all the world has ever given him to work with is a collection of wrongs. He doesn’t always pick the best one, but can you really blame him for making mistakes? He’s a good person wrapped up in the body of a bad one, and he’s never had a chance to prove otherwise,” she said.

Silver nodded.

“A good heart, but his brain won’t let it come out. He’s afraid to be good First, because he doesn’t think he can be. How can someone that has done what he has, and seen what he has, turn around and be good? Where’s the justice in that, to just let him walk away and pretend it never happened? He made a decision, today, but I can’t figure out what it is,” he said.

Wildcard strode down the hall, and out the hospital. Then he took flight, and quickly blew forward to the South. It took him hours, and hours, of non-stop flying, and by the time he reached his destination past the desert he was utterly exhausted. He hadn’t wanted to waste any time getting there however, and sleep could wait until he had arrived. When he did, he landed on the snow, and crunched through it towards the wooden cabin.

He had gone to Snowy Cove, and here he would stay. He had a great deal of things to consider, and he had to face them alone.

However, he found he wasn’t. When he opened the door, he found he was staring into an almost mirror-image of himself. It was another changeling, staring back at him.

Wildcard sighed, and his hoof moved back to his leg. He had come armed, of course he had- he knew better than to expect life to give him a break.

“Are you my relief? Thank Chrysalis, you have no idea how boring it is out here,” The changeling said, and walked towards Wildcard.

“Hey wait a second, you…”

Wildcard unholstered his gun, and pointed it at the changeling. He quickly backed off, but found himself between the wooden wall of the cabin, and the barrel of a gun.

“I’m really sorry about this, I can’t let Chrysalis know I’m here. It’s… nothing personal,” Wildcard said, and ticked the safety off.

“Wait! Don’t! I’m with you, Wildcard!”

Wildcard cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Are you?”

The changeling swallowed, and nodded frantically.

Wildcard looked at him, and then at the gun.

If he was going to change himself, well now was a good time to start. He threw it on the ground, and it slid to the other changelings hooves. The changeling looked at it, perplexed.

“If you aren’t, you might as well just shoot me now,” Wildcard said.

The changeling picked it up, and to Wildcard’s surprise, dumped the magazine on the floor.

“No. We’re better than that, aren’t we? You said you could bring us back to Equestria, peacefully,” the changeling said.

“I believe in you, Wildcard.”

He handed the empty gun back to Wildcard, and then walked off into the kitchen.

“I imagine you came here for a good reason, but I won’t stick my nose in where it isn’t wanted. I’ve got a good set up here, and plenty of food and bits. It’s all yours, make yourself at home.”

Wildcard collected the magazine, and holstered his gun. He watched his comrade in the kitchen silently, as he prepared them a meal.

For the first time in his life, he had a real friend. Flankenstein was one thing, but even he only knew Wildcard for official reasons. This changeling though, this was different. He held his life in his hooves, and could have taken it and brought great fortune to himself. He didn’t, and gave it back freely. There was no catch, no hidden agenda, and no demand.

That was friendship. To have power over another, and to not use it for your own gain.

Wildcard sat himself on the small bed, and unloaded his bag.

“What’s your name?” He asked the other changeling.

“Well, I’m either Eta-Eta, or Snowblind, depending on who you ask,” He said, and strode out with two cups of steaming hot tea.

“Soups on, it’ll be a couple minutes. You must be cold, so I made us some tea,” He said, and sat beside Wildcard.

For the first time in his life, Wildcard talked to him as a friend. No politics, no agenda, he bore his soul out to his comrade for hours. Everything was covered, from the day he arrived in Equestria to the day he had arrived. By the end it was nearly nightfall, and Snowblind had eagerly listened to every word.

Wildcard asked him, when he finished, one final thing.

“Would I be a good father?”

Snowblind looked him straight in the eye, and told him the truth, as one friend to another.

“No, but you can be.”