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// Chapter 5: The Weight of the Future 
// Story: Life in the Wasteland 
// by NorsePony 
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       “We’re under attack!” I yelled as I spun back toward the camp. I saw mess kits falling, seeming to tumble slowly through the air, thrown aside as my squadmates scrambled to their feet with their eyes darting, searching for the threat. A strangely calm thought drifted across my mind: Wasteland creatures were supposed to stay away from the Seed tree.
       The squad was still rising with agonizing slowness when dozens of the glossy black creatures burst from the ground simultaneously. They must have dug directly below us, deep enough to keep us from hearing them, then raced straight up to the surface. The things were moving with such speed when they surfaced that they arced high into the air. Groups of four came up near each member of the squad around the cookfire, each person’s group purposefully landing atop them, knocking the wind out of them before pinning them in place with some kind of green goo that the creatures vomited onto their limbs, wings, and horns. It was over in seconds, a precision display of coordination that would have made any squad look like raw recruits.
       I had not been attacked, but I didn’t know why. These were the same kind of creatures that had killed Boxer, that was certain. They had the same glossy black chitin, the same blue voids for eyes, the same fangs and spikes and spines. But the creatures from before had not moved with such purpose. Perhaps this was a different group, even more vicious and intelligent?
       Then a white face rose from the earth. Doc’s face. The creature wearing her form looked around at the incapacitated squad and smiled. It turned the smile on me, showing me a mouthful of fangs. My heart dropped into my gut. This wasn’t a different group. It was exactly the same group, and we had vastly underestimated their intelligence. They hadn’t given up on their intent to capture us, but had devised a plan and followed us until they were able to execute it. Looking at the thing’s smile, I realized that I was still free because they knew I was helpless.
       I could only hope they didn’t know that their information was out of date.
       I glanced around. My comrades struggled, but the goop held them fast. Their struggling became even more ineffective as it dried to a rock-like consistency. The dried goop was translucent, letting me see their horns glowing angrily, but it must have had some sort of anti-magic effect, because it restrained their spells as easily as their bodies.
       The Doc-creature spoke. Where before its speech had been halting and simple, now it was mellifluous and fluent. That disturbed me at least as much as the skillful attack had. “You are captured. If you do not try to escape, we will not have to kill you. You will return to the hive with us. You are strong and fresh and you will feed us well. We are not cruel. You will be happy in the hive. You taste so much better when you are happy.” It beckoned imperiously, ordering me to come closer. The other creatures began prying the rest of the squad up from the ground. They didn’t intend to free them for transport, it seemed.
       I walked toward the spokescreature, thinking furiously. I was outnumbered dozens to one. Even with the advantage of surprise, I couldn’t hope to win fighting alone. I had to even the odds. All eyes were on me, so it was easy to catch Doc’s gaze. I flicked a glance at her horn, hoping she would take my meaning.
       I shouldn’t have worried. She winked, letting me know she understood, then she gritted her teeth. Even as she braced, her eyes darted around, assessing enemy positions.

       Halfway to the creature, I turned on my heels and lunged for Doc. I barely made it two steps before a hard, acrid-smelling body tackled me to the ground.
       “Foolish,” said the Doc-creature. “Behave. We will not warn you again.”
       I was still ten feet from Doc, but it was now or never. I aligned my head, reassuring myself that the goop on her horn was no smaller than the rocks I’d been practicing with, and forcing myself not to think of the consequences to Doc if I missed. Quickly, before the creatures could stop me, I raised my arm and pressed the button.
       The bolt of force struck Doc’s horn dead-on. Doc cried out in pain, but the crystalline goop cracked obligingly. I steeled myself and tapped the button again. I was rewarded by the sound of it shattering and the feel of Doc’s magic roaring back into my senses.
       “What!” the creature shouted. I took a measure of satisfaction from the outrage in its voice.
       In a flash, Doc dismembered the creatures holding her green prison aloft, sending her thudding to the ground with a grunt. She immediately turned her magic toward freeing Hook’s horn. Her own magic wouldn’t be able to stop the creatures fast enough to prevent them from disabling her again, but Hook was a different story. Her scalpel-sharp cutting spell seemed blunted by the goop, but sickly green chunks sloughed off as she continued attacking with lightning-fast slices.
       The Doc-creature growled, a liquid and somehow bestial sound, and ran toward Doc.
       I drove an elbow backwards, aiming high, and felt chitin crunch like eggshell. The body that had me pinned let go as it went limp. Earth pony strength wasn’t good for much in the Wasteland, but that was because most Wasteland creatures didn’t bother to wrassle. I rolled, bringing Boxer’s horn to bear on the Doc-creature and hitting the button as rapidly as I could. A trio of strikes flung it back to slam into the trunk of the tree. It let out a groan as it slid bonelessly to the ground. It wasn’t dead, more’s the pity, but with luck it would be out of the fight for a while.
       I rolled and sprang up, firing off a few quick shots at the closest creatures, hoping to distract them for long enough for Doc to finish with Hook’s horn. I hesitated then, noticing that the creatures seemed to have lost their coordination. They had dropped the imprisoned squad, and many of them were backing away from the tree, ignoring their assigned victims. A few even broke and ran.
       The Doc-creature groaned again, its head lolling as it fought back to consciousness. It opened its eyes with a growl of rage and at that very moment, the other creatures jerked as though they’d been shocked. Half of them charged at Doc, and the other half rushed at me, in a perfectly coordinated pack.
       I fired wildly into the pack as I scurried backwards, but there were too many for me to stop. As they leapt at me, fangs flashing, I closed my eyes. At that moment, I was only sad that I wouldn’t get back to my flock.
       Hook’s bestial roar of triumph shook me from my despair. I felt his magic blaze up, flinging the entire pack of creatures through the air like toys. They landed in scattered heaps around the tree.
       The Doc-creature was still sprawled against the tree, so Hook’s spell only pressed the it back against the trunk. It began getting to its feet, using the trunk for leverage, its eyes narrowed  at Hook and blazing with fury. It appeared to concentrate and the other creatures stood, many utterly ignoring snapped legs and cracked shells.
       It had to die, and fast. Luck was on our side. Doc’s chunk of creature-vomit had landed facing the tree trunk. She was alternately cutting away at the coating around Sarge’s horn and dismembering any of the creatures who seemed to be approaching her. “Doc!” I shouted. “Take out the leader!” Doc’s eyes focused on her doppelganger, and her horn flared.
       The sun-bright dot of Doc’s magic danced over the copy-creature. In the breath before it died, it said, “We will find you.”
       It smiled while it fell apart in a cloud of ichor, a smile full of bright fangs and promise.
       As I had hoped, without the leader’s control, the other creatures lost any sign of intelligence. They began fleeing the area around the Seed tree, in ones and twos and then in a terrified limping and clattering rush. They stopped running once they reached the edge of the Seed’s magical influence. They milled around briefly, animalistic and directionless, then finally dug their way into the ground and were gone.

       I collapsed to the ground as the adrenaline faded. I lay there weak and shaking while Doc freed herself and then the others. In the minutes before everyone was free, I was able to recover somewhat. As I hauled myself to my hooves, Hook thudded into my side, throwing an arm around my shoulders and pushing a canteen under my nose.
       “Not bad for a first fight, Shepherd! Though maybe next time you could share a little of the action, huh?” He grinned down at me.
       I took a deep swig of the flat-tasting boiled water and coughed as he pounded me on the back jubilantly. “If sharing the action means not being terrified the whole time, then you’ve got yourself a deal.”
       Hook laughed as the rest of the squad gathered around to congratulate me on how I’d handled myself.

       The weapon was heavy on my head and I couldn’t stop shooting glances at the glistening heap that used to be the leader-creature. Its last words echoed in my mind. We’d been fighting the Wasteland for decades, but it had never fought back until now.