Nest and Sombra walked into the empty meeting room, each walking as if the weight of the world was bearing down on their shoulders. The King began pacing back and forth near the front of the room while the Commander grabbed a chair from the committee desk. A long silence followed, the only sound in the large crystal-blue chamber being rapid hoofsteps from the pacing pony.
“That was quite a report,” Nest finally said, breaking the silence.
Sombra stopped his pacing and faced the Commander, “Indeed.” Another moment of silence followed, broken this time by the King. “I suppose we should get to formulating a plan.”
“That would be a good place to start,” Nest agreed.
“Very well, I will go first,” Sombra began, clearing his throat. “I think we need to be proactive in our approach. The public must be warned of the dangers so they may prepare themselves for whatever circumstances occur. We need to send for reinforcements from other military installations across Equestria. The Princesses must be notified at once. Our own troops need—”
“Hold on a minute, Your Highness. Before you get ahead of yourself, I want to say something,” Nest interjected. “You’re talking like we know there’s an entire country descending on us right now. To be honest with you, I’m not ready to commit so much after all we have to work with is three dead soldiers and the account of one. That’s a bit too much action for so little information.”
Sombra snorted, “What is it you’re trying to say, Commander?”
“I think we should keep quiet about this. I fear that if you did warn the public about an invasion, they wouldn’t be orderly and civilized like you think they would be. They’d go and panic and make things much worse than they already were, and then we’d be up the creek without a paddle. Yes, I agree that the Princesses should be notified and that reinforcements need to be ready to assist, but we can’t jump the gun here. This is delicate work and should be handled accordingly,” Nest summarized.
Sombra stared at the ground for a moment, his breaths coming raggedly and shallow. “I disagree. If we are attacked, we need to be ready. That means the public needs to be aware of the threat. I know that we can get them under control if the panic you describe does occur.”
“And how exactly would we go about that?” Nest questioned pointedly, raising an eyebrow.
“Do I look like I know the answer?!” Sombra shouted back, his panic starting to show through. He quickly caught himself and took a deep breath. “I apologise.” He began pacing again, staying silent for half a minute more before he stopped and sighed. “I suppose, for lack of any ideas on my part, we should go with your plan.”
Nest was mildly taken aback; Sombra was not known for making compromises so easily. “So now that we have that established, what’s the game plan?”
Sombra resumed his pacing, “I want you to send Pegasi on reconnaissance missions and see if you can find out anything. Any little scrap of information will be of use. I will handle the correspondence. If everything runs smoothly, we should be able to deliver a message to the Princesses by nightfall.” He turned to face Nest, “Commander, I believe our work is cut out for us.”
Nest stood, pushing the chair back into place. “Sounds like a plan to me,” he agreed, snapping a salute to the King and making for the door. Sombra followed close behind, shutting off the lights and leaving the meeting room empty once again.
It had been fifteen minutes since Nest had returned and secluded himself in his office. Peace and quiet were exactly what he needed; some space to think on the current events. As he had gathered from the information provided, there was an attack looming on the horizon. There was no doubt in his mind that the Changelings were up to that. Lime green bolts of magic, large numbers of shots, and not the most precise aim; from Coal Dust’s description, he had encountered a swarm on patrol last evening.
The recollection of that particular name brought one more reminder back to his mind. The kid had attacked an enemy of unknown number and intention, getting three stallions killed and a fourth wounded badly. Had it been one of the grunts that made it back in decent shape, he would have more reservations about the punishments coming to mind, but the leader of the patrol was the one who survived intact. The leader was the one who was supposed to shoulder the responsibility for his decisions, not those under him, for Luna’s sake!
Nest shook his head. No, he thought. No time for that. He pushed his thoughts to the back of his mind, bringing those of his game plan back to the forefront.
And immediately the jitters set in; not so much nervous jitters as angry ones. The total lack of knowledge on the situation unfolding was grating on his sanity. He didn’t know much more than that an attack was on the way; all the details about how fast they were attacking, total numbers, target, munitions, and weaponry were a mystery. A mystery that he was unsure of how to solve. A reconnaissance mission would likely end in more losses, but not knowing the strength of the enemy would certainly spell disaster.
Caught between the two choices, the commander swiveled his chair away from his rapidly growing decision tree on the desk to the window. It was business as usual outside, the soldiers going about their own duties and chores without a single smidge of the worry he was feeling. They almost looked so relaxed that they could have been mistaken for civilian battle re-enactors.
And that was when the thought hit. There is no way we’re ready for this kind of threat.
Only one other soldier was in the barracks by the time Coal Dust came hobbling through the door, still feeling the effects of the previous night’s wear and tear deep inside most of his muscles. His hooves dragged the slick linoleum floor as he walked, drawing the other soldiers gaze for only a moment before he turned back to his own business. The guards had left him to his own devices at the gate to the compound, so he was now alone.
His bed was the same stiff mattress he had known for the past four years, the same sheets that faintly smelled of bleach, and the same soft feather pillow with the occasional quillpoint sticking out, poking uncomfortably into his head. Yet now it seemed forlorn, like it was not truly his to lay on. He was free to do as he pleased for the time being, so there was no threat of being reprimanded for lazing about. He didn’t even bother with the sheets, but rather chose to simply flop down on the mattress like a rag doll.
His head hit the pillow, and almost immediately sleep began to take its comforting hold on his mind. He had only slept in the hospital room for about three hours, and he was still far beyond exhaustion. Rest came easy, and he drifted off to sleep in no time.
SLAM. CRASH. SLAM.
The world rushed back into the disheveled stallion’s awareness, sending him reflexively rolling off of the bed and bracing for the debris from what was surely a massive explosion nearby. His right wing hit the floor painfully, followed by the rest of his body in a heap of pony.
And there was no explosion. All he heard were the familiar voices of several of the other soldiers in the barracks and the sound of broken glass being swept up. Cautiously, Coal Dust poked his head out from behind.
There were no Changelings, nor any bloody stains on the snow. The source of the sound had been a metal trash bin being violently knocked across the room, several glass bottles contained within spilling out and shattering against the wall it had slammed into. Three soldiers were around it, one just getting to his hooves, one helping him up, and another sweeping up the pile of broken glass.
“Dust?” a voice even more familiar than the other three stallions asked. Turning his head to the left, Coal Dust locked eyes with a mountain of muscle and dingy white fur. His eyes traveled up until they met with an all too familiar muscle-bound face. “Any reason that you’re on the floor?”
“Headstrong, what’s up?” Coal Dust greeted nonchalantly, rising to his hooves.
“Wondering why you’re laying on the floor,” Headstrong reiterated.
“Right…” Coal Dust began, “I was asleep and I guess I just rolled out of the bed. What are you doing down here?”
“Came to check up on you. Ever since you came in this morning all busted up and missing almost all of your patrol, there’s been a lot of talk going around. We were ordered not to bother you, but… buddy are you okay?”
When Headstrong mentioned the patrol, Coal Dust sank back, taking a seat on the bed. A rush of memories were crowding his brain all at once, trying desperately to force themselves to the forefront.
There was a flash of green light and an explosion. A small beam zipped in from the front, causing a small blast just in front of them sent all three stallions reeling. Immediately after it, a much brighter flash lit up the area. A thicker, brighter beam raining down from above landed at Greenfield’s hooves. The entire group was obscured by a thick cloud of smoke and snow.
The realization hit him like a kick to the gut. Three stallions were dead. The Changelings were attacking. It had all seemed so surreal until now, like it had all been a bad dream. His eyes inadvertently travelled down to the mass of bandages on his right shoulder and around his midsection, kicking loose another memory.
”Incoming!” The second those words left Gust’s muzzle, the entire area lit up like a flare. Before anypony had the chance to react, an explosion ripped through the air. A hot shower of debris pummeled Coal Dust on his right side and sent him sprawling out on the ground.
Everything he remembered was true. It seemed like a fever dream, many parts running together and losing intensity. An immense weight was settling on his stomach, feeling like it would crush inwards at any moment. Coal Dust glanced up at the bunk above his head, and the weight on his stomach achieved its goal.
The writhing cloud of dust and snow quickly moved away, swallowed by the gale. In its place, was nothing. The four soldiers that had been there a few seconds before were suddenly not.
“Dust, are you okay?” a distant voice echoed, barely audible to the distraught Crystal pony. Headstrong’s face appeared in his vision seemingly from nowhere, startling him from his thoughts.
“Huh?” Coal Dust asked blankly, rubbing at his eyes with his fetlocks.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Headstrong commented.
“What?” Coal Dust asked absently, blinking hard and looking around the room to avoid Headstrong’s eyes.
“Do you need to lie down or something?” Headstrong asked, trying his best to be helpful.
“Wha… no. No, I’m okay. I just need a moment.” Coal Dust answered, rising from the bed. He walked past Headstrong and clumsily made his way across the room to the Head. The large stallion stood still, slightly confused but understanding Coal Dust’s predicament at the same time. He chose not to stick around, leaving the barracks not long after the faint click of the stall door in the bathroom echoed out of the doorless entrance.
In the stall, Coal Dust felt the weight on his stomach win out, turning it upside down in a fit of nausea. He had barely latched the door in time to hold his face over the latrine before one big heave lept through his barrel, emptying the contents of his stomach into the porcelain bowl. Several smaller convulsions followed, each bringing a painful dry heave. When the last of the spasms had subsided, he reached up and pulled the flush lever.
He weakly lifted himself from the floor, much of his energy drained by the vomiting. He flopped himself down on the toilet and sat limp, staring up at the ceiling tiles. His eyes were clouded with tears, though he couldn’t tell whether they were from his convulsions or from actual crying.
Maybe it was both.
The only sound in Sombra’s small office adjacent to his chambers was the furious scratching of a quill on paper. He had been feverishly working on the letter for nearly half an hour, struggling to find just the right words. This letter needed to be worded just right; too much urgency would lead to an overzealous response from the rest of Equestria. Too little and the request would not take priority and help would likely not be ready when needed. The trash bin next to the desk was slowly filling with wadded up scratch paper and those letters that contained mistakes.
And finally, he had it. Reading back through the letter, he felt that his point had been conveyed properly. He smiled with relief and slid the letter into an envelope, finishing the process by stamping the Empire’s seal on the front side. He pushed off from the desk, the chair legs squeaking loudly on the floor, and stretched his legs. He levitated the letter alongside himself and made for the exit.
But not before something caught his eye. On an empty bookshelf opposite from the desk, there was a large glass jar. He hadn’t noticed it before, and just why it was there in his office drew him in to investigate. Striding up to the shelf and peering in at the jar, he noticed what it was.
The jar was filled about two-thirds of the way full with dirt, leaving about three inches of air before the lid, which contained numerous holes. Inside, on top of the dirt, was a sugar cube and a small sponge stuck on a toothpick. All over those two items were hundreds of red ants. Closer inspection revealed numerous passages snaking down the edges of the jar before eventually disappearing deeper inside. The whole thing reeked of Ruby’s doing, Sombra suspected. She always had been a nature nut, and there wasn’t another pony around the castle that would just leave an ant farm sitting on a bookshelf.
Levitating the farm off of the shelf, Sombra exited the office and entered the large main room of his chamber. The fire had since burned down to a low bed of coals and Ruby had long vacated the couch. He started to head for the door to leave, but while walking he found himself fascinated by the little contained ant colony. He stopped in front of the fireplace and moved the farm closer to his face.
Something was definitely interesting about the ants inside. On the surface, there were two little swarms. The largest one on the quickly dwindling pile of sugar, and a secondary one above that on the moist sponge. There were two main holes, one close to the center of the jar and the sugar, and another along the edge. Sombra tilted the jar to get a better look at the side entrance, watching the ants pour into their tunnels and out to the surface.
All of the constant movements of the little insects held Sombra captivated. He regarded the sheer efficiency of them, as they all went about their tasks with determination and drive. There were no fights, there were no disagreements; everything moved smoothly and orderly in the colony. All of the ants were working together to achieve a common goal.
And that’s when it hit him. Nest had strongly suggested to keep the information of the attack secret from the public, on the grounds that it would bring about mass hysteria and panic. Sombra agreed, though largely out of a lack of ideas on his part. Looking at the ants, he began to realize the dangers of keeping the information from the public.
A scenario played out in his head. The ponies of the Empire were never warned, and there was an assault on the city. To go so suddenly from peace to war would throw everypony into confusion and instead of working together to solve the problem, they would all try to protect their own interests and would be easily overrun by the invasion. Had they been warned, they could have prepared for the threat and worked to solve it as a community.
He looked around at the walls of his chamber, noticing a picture on the wall of himself and Ruby with a group of representatives from other Equestrian cities in front of the Crystal Heart.
The Crystal Heart, of course!
With the thoughts of the solution to his problems building in his head, he rushed out of his chamber and into the castle proper. Time was of the essence. The citizens needed to know, regardless of what Nest felt was the best course of action. The best way to warn them, of course, was by gathering them all in the Castle Square to warn them in person. The Postal Service would use their delivery ponies to gather the populace and bring them to the Square; no trouble. The next step was the speech. He had writers around that could cover that job while he prepared everything else. Their office would be the second stop on his suddenly growing list of tasks. After that he would need to make sure that he was dressed up to make the speech, and then—
“King Sombra, sir! I’m glad I caught you,” announced the gravelly voice of a Castle Guard, breaking his train of thought. The guard approached in a hasty trot similar to the one that the King had been employing himself, though with more speed until he caught up. “There’s a situation that needs your attention immediately.”
Sombra snorted in annoyance, “I’m in a bit of a hurry, Soldier. What do you need?”
The guard motioned for him to stop and move off to the side of the large hall. He scanned the hall for any potential eavesdroppers before beginning in a whisper, “Sir, Commander Nest specifically sent for you a few minutes ago. I don’t know much, but there was mention of Changelings in the base and that he needed you to go to the Headquarters immediately—”
Sombra teleported away nearly the same instant that the word ‘Changeling’ left the Guard’s mouth.
The basement of the Headquarters building at the Base was little more than a musty cellar that housed a multitude of pipes and cables of many sizes alongside a stack of old wooden crates full of disaster supplies. A single hanging light bulb struggled to provide adequate lighting for the room. It smelled of dust and cedar from the crates. Most of the time it sat empty, forgotten under the hustle and bustle of everyday life in the base.
Except today, when it was suddenly the center of attention for the entire base. Two of the largest stallions on base, Headstrong being one of them, stood guard on the old wooden door. Ponies passing by in the hall were instructed to keep walking and not pay any mind to the basement.
Inside were two rusty metal chairs, each containing a blindfolded Changeling wearing a magic restrainment ring and sitting expressionlessly while tied to the chairs. Commander Nest sat on a crate he had pulled over from the stack behind the two drones and another guard stood next to him, holding a particularly nasty-looking sword in his fetlock.
The door opened and rapid hoofsteps descended the stairs, drawing Nest and the soldier’s attention to the staircase. The steps reached a crescendo and from the stairwell emerged Sombra, looking like he hadn’t slept in weeks. His mane was windblown, his eyes were alight with tension, one of them twitching frequently. He recoiled in disgust the moment he saw the Changelings, stopping in his tracks and taking a deep breath.
“I’m here. Let’s get this show on the road,” he ordered flatly.
The soldier sat his sword down and stepped forward, untying the blindfolds on the two drones and exposing their unnerving pupilless eyes. Both of them perked up at seeing Sombra himself.
“Well, get them talking. Do they understand our language?” Sombra asked hurriedly, his voice hinting of annoyance.
“We understand you, your Highness,” answered one of the drones. He seemed to savor the final two words, his voice hissing sinisterly.
“Then talk already,” Nest spat.
“My, shouldn’t we at least introduce ourselves first?” the second drone returned sarcastically.
“No. You said you had a message, deliver the damned message already.” Nest’s scowl deepened with each word, slightly unnerving the guard.
The first changeling nodded, unconcerned by the menacing expression on the commander’s face.. “Very well. We come bearing a message from King Chrytion himself. You are to surrender the Empire to us immediately, and we will allow you all to leave peacefully and without incident. If you refuse, you risk the lives of all you rule over.”
“Wait, wait, wait a minute,” Nest interrupted, “You want us, all seven thousand of us, to just give up our home? Is your King insane or just stupid?”
The Changeling did his best to shrug, given his restrains, “All seventy-five thousand of us would tend to think that way, yes. Chrytion demands an answer within the hour, Your Highness. Make the right choice.”
Sombra stared at the drone, his distress suddenly evaporating. “No.”
The drone was caught off-guard. He had expected to sit waiting for an answer for a few minutes, instead getting his answer mere seconds later. “Are you sure you wish to subject your Empire to this without even a second thought, Your Highness?
“There is nothing to discuss. Your terms are ludicrous and unfounded. My answer is no. Commander would you please come with me.”
Nest turned around to give Sombra his own opinion, and found that the king was not there. The door at the top of the stairs promptly slammed shut. “Guards, keep an eye on these two. I’ll be right back.” He hopped down from the crate and hurriedly mounted the stairs.
Nest’s office was filled with tension, both of the leaders in anxious silence across the room from one another. Sombra began pacing, and Nest sat facing him at his desk. Aurora brought in coffee a few minutes prior and left quickly, sensing the tension in the room. The silence persisted for a few minutes before Nest finally began the conversation that both were dreading.
“The bug said we have until the end of the hour,” he started, leaving the end of his sentence open in expectancy of Sombra to take over.
“That means in fifty minutes, we are going to have a full-scale battle on our hooves if he spoke the truth,” Sombra added, his voice filled with dread.
“I just want to know your reasoning. At this point, it looks like the only way any of us are gonna survive this thing is surrender. I’m all for a blaze of glory, but we also need to think of the civilians here. Why didn’t you even consider the peaceful option?”
“We can win this battle without a single casualty, Commander.”
Nest snorted, “I like the sound of that, but how in the world can we do it?
Sombra grinned, “The Crystal Heart.”
The commander shook his head, “Not following you here.”
“I didn’t realize this until now, but in theory we could use the magical blast it produces as a weapon against the Changelings,” Sombra answered.
“That wave of magic it sends out when it fires up? All it does is make everyone all shiny and feel warm inside, so how would it ‘in theory’ work as a weapon?”
“I suppose your changeling lecture is more hoof-to-hoof combat oriented and does not deal much much the nature of Changelings as a race. During my time in the Canterlot Academy, I received a much more in-depth picture. I will summarize it for you.”
“College snob,” Nest muttered under his breath.
“Magic can be classified into very many different types. The type we unicorns use is Harmony magic, and other creatures use other forms, such as Dark magic. Changelings use a type unique to themselves, known as Elusive magic or simply Changeling magic. They have the capacity for use of Harmony magic, but they have a great deal of difficulty doing so and only the best of their mages ever develop skill with it,” Sombra explained.
“Not getting it,” Nest deadpanned.
“Let me finish,” chided Sombra. “Now, as I said, Changelings do not have much capacity for Harmony magic within themselves. Creatures like them do not react well to Harmony magic, and in a large enough dose it can even be lethal.”
Sombra paused for a moment, “The Crystal Heart is capable of producing one of the largest known blasts of Harmony magic.”
Nest perked up, “Wait, you’re saying that we can actually make a weapon out of that thing?”
Sombra nodded again.
“That’s incredible!” Nest exclaimed, a wide grin on his face. “Sure, the idea’s a little crazy, but hot damn! We can beat this swarm with one shot!”
Sombra chuckled at the normally stoic Commander’s enthusiasm. “Glad we are on the same page. Now, I believe the plan should be fairly straightforward from here. I go and gather the Crystal Ponies and get ready to fire. You gather the military and get them ready to defend the Empire. The Heart’s blast has a limited effective range, so we have to lure them in as close as possible before we activate it.”
“Sounds like a plan to me, Your Highness,” Nest agreed as he gave a salute.
Sombra smiled, stopping his pacing. “Good. We will work the rest of the kinks out as we go. Stay in contact, and best of luck.” Without any more fanfare, Sombra teleported away with a crack of red magic, leaving behind a strong smell of ozone in his wake.
Nest took a long pull from the coffee on his desk and faced the window once more, looking out over the base one more time from his window, gazing on the arrangement of buildings that he had called home for nearly twenty years now. He drained the cup in one more swig and stood to leave.
“Aurora, go down to the control room. Tell them to send out a message…”
Braided Twist groaned in frustration and slammed her novel down on the table. She had just spent the last fifteen minutes reading, and she couldn’t remember a single word of it. In addition to that, she couldn’t remember where she’d started reading from.
Ever since she saw Coal Dust out on the street, she hadn’t been able to shake the questions from her mind. What could have happened to him? Why was he under guard? What did a Sergeant have to do to be placed under such protection? She groaned again, this time with more gusto, and hoisted herself out of the deep recliner. She hadn’t done a single productive thing since leaving work, and now it was almost three in the afternoon! She wasn’t going to get any reading done at the current rate, so she decided to find something to do around the house to busy herself before she needed to go to bed.
It shouldn’t have been bothering her so much. After all, the way things were in the military, accidents would happen and soldiers got hurt sometimes, but something seemed amiss. She often dealt with ponies from the base and sometimes those from the castle too, and never before had they been so hushed about anything. They usually at least offered a vague explanation…
But she had no room to be upset over that fact. She was a civilian after all, and if they were not allowed to talk, that was it.
Silently cursing her own curiosity, Braid turned left at the bottom of the staircase and entered her own personal kitchen. It was much smaller and less specialized than the one at the shop, but the soft tones of granite countertops were much more homey than the stainless steel ones she used for work. A small table sat across from the small stove and refrigerator. A large window behind the table lit the room nicely and rounded out the cozy feel of the room.
All afternoon, she had been letting her curiosity run wild and had not once thought to eat anything. Seeing the kitchen only drove in the realization that she was famished. Not wasting any time, she went to the fridge and retrieved a carton of juice and a container of lightly wilted daisies and cucumbers. A bump from her rear closed the door and she floated the two items to the counter. A loaf of bread slid down from the far end and a glass levitated down from the cupboard. She cracked the container and heaped a small pile of the daisy and cucumber mixture onto the bread. With the second slice of bread in position, she crossed the room and plopped down in the nearest chair at the table, levitating her supplies over once seated. The sandwich she made was a bit dull, being that the daisies were a few days old and the bread wasn’t the freshest, but it was enough. She sat at the table and chewed her food and her thoughts over simultaneously.
To her chagrin, the same old thoughts kept plaguing her mind. Civilian or not, she could tell something was up. Even Dusty had been tight-lipped, not to mention covered in bandages and looking neurotic. Again, she pushed the thoughts away and decided to focus on whether the cabinets needed new handles.
Yes they did. The navy blue wooden hearts that had seemed a good idea when she moved in looked tacky against the cream colored cabinets. She took another greedy bite from the sandwich and put that little project on her mental to-do list.
Knock. Knock. Knock. Before she moved on to find another detail to focus on, there was a knock at the door. Or rather it was somepony beating at the door, judging by how loud the knocks were. Braid popped the final piece of the sandwich into her mouth and exited the kitchen to answer the door.
On the porch stood a young Crystal pony mare, barely older than a filly. She was breathing hard, her sides matted with sweat, and her expression was urgent. “Ma’am, I apologize for disturbing you, but I’m going to have to ask you to report to the Castle Square immediately.”
“What? Why?” Braid asked, her mouth still full.
“Sombra has called a mandatory address for the entire Empire.”