Voices.
Gust perked his ears, swiveling them back and forth feverishly. It must have been hours since the barrage, and somehow he hadn’t broken down into a sobbing mess on the floor during that time. His mind was in turmoil; a chaotic mess of sporadic, rambling thoughts. Where was everyone? Had the Changelings won? Where were the hospital staff? Were there Changelings invading the city?
His breath quickly went from slow, even breaths to rapid, tense gasps. It felt like he was locked in a solitary ward in an asylum, alone, with only his thoughts to keep him company. He shifted on the bed several times, trying to figure out just how mobile he was. Though the lower half of his body felt fine, his forelegs could barely move without an intense stinging pain shooting through them. His head was throbbing, and he could only wish to see with the heavy bandages covering a large part of his head. He thanked his lucky stars that he still had full use of his ears, despite a spot near the base of his left ear that kept stinging when he moved it.
The voices had stopped, leaving eerie silence in their wake. For a moment, he considered calling out to them, but quickly suppressed the idea with fears that the Changelings would kill him if they found him—
When they found him. He sighed, relaxing his head. Even if he could find a way out of this hospital, once he was outside, he would be at the mercy of the bugs. He couldn’t even get up, let alone walk or fight. Here in this hospital bed, he had no chance. The Changelings would discover him, and he would be killed… no, he would be publicly executed as a sick kind of sport for the monsters.
He wanted to cry, to scream with rage at his inevitable fate, but that one little part of him that hadn’t resigned itself to doom was doing its best to help him lay low. Perhaps he would remain unnoticed if a quick counterattack repelled the Changelings. Maybe they were even being driven out right then, for all he knew.
But he did know. There was no thunder of battle coming from what must have been a massive hole in the roof. There weren’t even any birds chirping outside, only stifling silence in place of what was once the din of a bustling city.
At the end of the hallway, the doors to the recovery ward opened forcefully. Gust instinctively tried to sink back into his bed, but was stuck in place. A set of hoofsteps entered the corridor, followed by another. Two more followed them, and more kept coming until he couldn’t pick out one from another. However, these steps didn’t have the same hollow sound of a pony’s hoof on the hard tile floor. They were more like dull knocks; a set of four wooden shafts striking the floor in rhythm with one another.
For the first time in his life, Gust was scared enough to tremble. He clutched at the blanket as best he could through the pain in his forelegs, but barely managed to move it up past his waist before he couldn’t take any more. He bit his tongue, trying to hold in the gasp of pain as best he could.
The steps fanned out, some walking out of earshot and others seeming to meander around at the door they came in. Three distinct sets of hooves were growing closer, the Changelings they belonged to coming down the row. He could only hope that his curtain was closed, otherwise he was as good as dead. Two of them passed directly in front of his bed, both continuing on ahead like they hadn’t noticed him. They were conversing back and forth in a low voice, such that he couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying. A moment later came the sound of rubble being shifted farther down the way. They were inspecting the hole. A drawer opened across the hall, followed by some papers being rustled around. One of the three Changelings had stopped at the adjacent nurses’ station, and was rifling through whatever files were contained within. He probably wouldn’t find much, considering that there weren’t any high-profile ponies in the recovery ward.
The drawer slammed closed, and the Changeling left the nurse station, following the other two down the hallway. Gust breathed a momentary sigh of relief, until he remembered that there were wires connected to his chest. He had learned to ignore the beeping of the heart monitor so well that he hadn’t even realized that it was still going. The machine started beeping faster, the lines crossing it growing tighter together as he began to panic. It was going to be a dead giveaway. Instinctively, he reached down to pull the sensors from himself, only to stop short. If he removed the wires, it would trigger an alarm. Then he would definitely be found. Mentally swearing, he pulled his hoof back, all the while praying that the machine intended to help him live wouldn’t spell his doom.
For agonizing minutes that felt like hours, he listened to the creatures outside. The three at the hole must have flown up to the roof, because he heard muffled thumps coming from above at one point. The occasional Changeling would walk by every so often, not paying him any mind as they went about whatever business they were up to. After a while, things seemed to slow down. Fewer voices could be heard going in the ward, and fewer and fewer changelings were passing by. It almost seemed to be returning to the way it had been immediately after the shelling.
At last, it was quiet again, save for the incessant beeping of the heart monitor. The Changelings had moved on, apparently, and Gust breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps they had moved on from the Empire for the most part, pushing further along to chase the fleeing Equestrians. Given a little time, he just might have been able to get up and find his way out to a safer place. Heck, he might even survive this if he played his cards right. Slowly, he began to relax. In a few days, this whole mess would be over.
Shhhhhhhhing!
The curtain flew open, and Gust’s little moment of peace was shattered by a quick succession of taps rushing to his side.
“Ready? Pull!” shouted Gravel Presser, throwing a hoof up in a signal. At his command, a nearby team of ponies tugged at the ropes they held in their mouths. The thick tree that the rope was tied to groaned in response to the strain. It didn’t want to give up the fight so easily, the wood popping in protest at the notch cut in its base. It wasn’t long before the pulling team started to run out of steam, and the strain evident in their expressions told Gravel that they wouldn’t hold up much longer.
The tree was starting to take the upper hoof, but the burly gray Earth pony wasn’t going to give it up so easily. He crossed to the other side of the tree trunk and aligned his rear hooves with the direction the tree was supposed to fall. With a shout of exertion, he rammed the buck home just above the notched-out portion of the trunk.
The tree popped loudly, the solid kick weakening what resistance it had left. Another forceful buck followed immediately after, and the tree leaned past the tipping point. The ropes in the ponies’ mouths went slack, and the call of “Timber!” went out. The tree fell fast, crashing through the canopy of the surrounding thicket with forceful rustling and snapping. When it hit the forest floor, the ground shook, though the massive trunk only gave a muted thump as it hit the soft earth below.
“Good work!” Gravel shouted, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Lunchtime! We’ll get the log after food.” The pull team relaxed at his word, stretching out their stiff limbs. The sun was nearly directly overhead, and the team was still not quite up to speed yet. The first tree of the day had been a real pain in the flank to take down, and the tired crew didn't help matters. Gravel Presser picked up his axe and drove it into the stump of the fallen tree before he trotted off in search of food.
A short distance away was the logging camp. Well, it was starting to grow past the confines of that term and into that of a town. Just last month, a small general store had opened up along the dirt path that connected the isolated camp to the outside world. Along with it came two houses for the store owner and his family. Soon after, more and more lumberjacks began to filter in. The population had grown enough in the last month that an official name was decided upon for the upstart community:
Evergreen.
And so, Gravel Presser trotted back towards the town of Evergreen. The logging company provided hot meals for the workers, but with the addition of the store, more and more ponies were bypassing the supplied rations in favor of whatever goods the shopkeeper had in store for them. Everypony had a good number of bits on hoof, given that there wasn’t anyplace nearby to spend them, so the store often had trouble keeping itself stocked. Two wagons filled with supplies came in each week, and that was becoming insufficient to keep everypony supplied.
Gravel, however, wasn’t a regular at the store. He was content to save his bits for a rainy day and make do with whatever the camp cook was serving. After three months at the camp, he was now sitting on a rather large pile of bits. Perhaps he could send it off to help his family out like so many other workers were doing, or he could hold onto it for himself. There was still time to decide what to do with his earnings, so he instead chose to dwell on what was being served at the chow line today.
In the front of the flop house, as it was called, a small metal building was set up to serve meals to the loggers. The cook, a middle-aged unicorn by the name of Rivulet, stood in the large cut-out window, busying herself over a large steaming pot.
“What’s the grub for today, River Bottom?” Gravel asked teasingly as he trotted up to the line.
“Hello, Gravel Presser. It is nice day, no?” Rivulet asked, her Stalliongrad accent showing through as she rolled the R’s in Gravel’s name. A second later a wooden spoon held in a violet aura whapped across his muzzle. “What have I told you about using that name?”
“Ow! Hey!” Gravel yelped, wiping at where the utensil smacked him. “I was just joking, you know me Rivulet.”
“Of course, and you know me that I do not care for jokes.” She rinsed the spoon in a pail of water on her little countertop before dropping it back into the steaming pot. “Back in Stalliongrad, males always respectful of females. It is courteous.”
“A no-nonsense mare from a no-nonsense town. That’s why I like you so much, you know that?”
“Please, you will make me blush. We are having potato stew today, your favorite.” Rivulet stirred the pot with gusto before dropping the spoon back into the pail. “Come and get it when you want.”
“Looks good!” Gravel said with enthusiasm, grabbing a bowl from the stack at the start of the line and a spoon. Rivulet produced a ladle and scooped a generous portion of the potato soup into his bowl. Given her situation, the violet mare could cook extremely well. Such a limited kitchen couldn’t do much besides churn out greasy spoon foods, but she managed to add her own touches to the dishes she made. “Thanks, Rivet!”
“I will break the spoon over your head next time you say my name badly, Gravel Presser!” she warned, a half smile on her face. Slowly but surely, Gravel was starting to wear down her hard-shelled exterior. He managed to get her smiling on a daily basis now, a far cry from her persistent scowl that dominated her features when she first arrived at Evergreen.
Whistling happily and carrying his food on his back, Gravel decided to hike back up to the jobsite and eat his meal by the recently-felled tree. He crossed the wide field of stumps where the forest had been cleared, making note of the new growth on several of the old fallen trees. Perhaps they would make it through the winter, perhaps not. In a century, there might not even be any trace of the logging operation at all.
A growl from his stomach interrupted his train of thought. He pressed on a bit harder, anxious to sit down at his spot and enjoy his meal. He arrived at the fallen tree a moment later and first placed his bowl on top of the fallen trunk. He removed his hard hat and loosened his tool belt, flopping down on the soft grass without a care in the world other than his potato stew.
Once settled, he retrieved his food and placed it on his lap. After a long morning of fighting the trees, the aroma was mouthwatering. He didn’t hesitate to dive into the stew. The buttery goodness of the potatoes mixed with various vegetables made him hum his approval of the stew almost involuntarily. As he mulled over his food, he leaned his head back and stared up at the sky. A few fair-weather clouds drifted lazily overhead, standing out strikingly against their bright blue backdrop. The scent of the pine trees wafted out on the gentle breeze from the forest behind him, and the sound of birds singing in the trees nearby coupled with the faint crying of a foal brought the scene—
Crying foals? Gravel snapped his head to attention, swiveling his ears to try to pinpoint the source of the distressed infant. He looked left, back towards the town, and right, out into the woods nearby. The sound seemed to be coming from the trees.
He rose from his sitting position and tightened his tool belt. Crying foals didn't just happen along out in the remote woods. Something was up. There could have been something attacking the foals, or perhaps something was mimicking a foal to lure in prey. Either way, a weapon was a must-have. Looking over, he remembered his axe in the tree stump. He grabbed the handle in his teeth and ripped it free from the wood, breaking into a full gallop as he did so. The stallion thundered along the tree line for a short distance before he cut into the forest. He kept his axe at the ready, preparing himself for what he might find just ahead.
He dodged in between trees and rocks, making sure to slow his pace so as not to trip with an axe in his mouth. The sound of crying was growing nearer, and it was starting to echo through the trees as the volume increased with proximity. As he neared it, he heard a mix of adult voices— some female, some male —and a constant din of hoofsteps under the piercing wails of the foal. He stopped and hid behind a tree when he was a few mere yards away from the crowd of ponies, and cautiously peeked out from behind the trunk to get his first glimpse of the unknown group in the forest.
What he saw nearly made him sick.
“Wow.” Cochylis stood still at the border that separated the snow from the green grass of the Crystal Empire.
He had seen illustrations of the crystal city numerous times throughout his training. It was always described as a shining beacon of crystal that was visible for many miles around. It was said that the giant spire in the center, the Palace, reflected the sun’s rays in prismatic fashion, sending a rainbow of color radiating out from all sides. In addition to that, there was said to be a constant stream of love-based magic flowing from the tip of the spire so potent that one small pull from it would be enough to feed a drone for a month.
Only now that he had arrived at the greatest source of food known to Changelings, he realized that it was a far cry from what it was cracked up to be. There was no stream of love magic radiating from the Palace. There was no such prismatic reflection. There was only the taint of black smoke rising from the city after the artillery had struck, and the sickening smell that it carried on the wind.
“It’s a lot smaller than I imagined it,” Ips said, snapping Coch’s attention away from the Empire.
“And a lot less colorful,” added Cochylis.
“Yeah. Let’s get moving. Sleeping space is first come, first serve you know!” With that, Ips trotted forward, crossing the distinct line where the old weather spell used to be and entering the grassy lot of land on the outer edge of the city. Cochylis followed behind him, keeping his eyes on the pillars of smoke that continued rising above the rooftops.
He found it strange, now that he thought of it. There hadn’t been a large field of dead soldiers outside the city like he expected, but then again he wasn’t there to see the actual battle happen. He had expected several thousand ponies to fight against, yet there were probably no more than fifty dead by his estimate. Had they really turned tail and ran so quickly? Surely there was more morale in the Equestrians than that.
But that also didn’t add up. The artillery strikes were supposed to be aimed at the battlefield, and they had checked the trajectory three times before the barrage started. Yet, there were no craters on the ground in the snowy battlefield, so that meant…
The artillery strike was never intended for the soldiers.
He hadn’t considered it before, but now it all made sense. As he and Ips found their way into one of the streets, he saw the extent of what he had done.
There were bodies everywhere. Bodies of ponies who hadn’t seen what killed them coming. Mares and stallions alike lay dead in the streets, spread sporadically amongst numerous craters from the spellfire barrage. Few buildings were undamaged, all bearing black soot marks or missing large chunks after being hit by a spell. A few of them were still engulfed in flames, but there were already teams of drones working to get the blaze under control. Cochylis looked on wide-eyed, observing the massive carnage before him.
“Ips?” he asked, staring unblinkingly at the death and destruction in the road.
“Yeah?”
“Weren’t we shooting at the Equestrian Army?”
“That’s what I thought.” Ips answered, glancing around the scene nonchalantly, never stopping to look in one place for too long.
“Did we miss?” Cochylis asked, finally breaking his fixation on the street and looking at Ips.
“I guess so,” Ips replied, beginning to walk forward once more. “We still did the job though. I mean, we’re here aren’t we?”
“I suppose.” The two drones pressed forward down the sidewalk, passing more and more Changelings with each step as the city was filled with the chitinous mob. They walked on in silence, slowly nearing the Palace at the city center as they picked their way around Changelings and dead ponies alike. After a minute or two, Cochylis broke the silence again.
“We’re on the northwest side of the Empire. I bet if we hurried over to the southeast portion, we could find a good place to hole up before everyone else gets there.”
“I like the way you think!” Ips replied, preparing to break into a gallop. However, he stopped instead, turning to face his partner. “I have a better idea. You didn’t use up all your magic on the artillery pieces, so you fly ahead and get a good spot. Then come back here and get me.”
“Good plan,” Cochylis replied, buzzing his wings in preparation. “You’ll be right here, right?”
“I’ll be around here. There’s gotta be something to do while I wait.”
“Okay. I’ll be back before long,” Cochylis said before putting a little extra oompf into his flapping and taking to the air. He rose above the roofline and started forward, heading to the southeast. Once he had attained a good cruising speed, he looked down and took in the sight of the Crystal Empire’s fate below.
As far as he could see, there wasn’t a single street in the city that wasn’t littered with bodies and craters. The extent of the damage was catastrophic, and spread quite uniformly over the entirety of the Empire. A number of buildings were still on fire, and there were even blast scars on the palace itself. Cochylis forced himself to look away from the eerie calm of the city below, the sight of so much death and destruction proving too much to bear all at once.
As he passed the Castle and entered the sky above the southeastern portion of the city, he began looking down again. This time, he was on the lookout for a suitable building to shack up in. Some drones had the same idea as him apparently, but this side of the Empire was much quieter than the northwestern quarter. Much more calm and untouched in the wake of the attack. That would be changing very soon as more Changelings poured into the city.
After scanning the numerous damaged houses around the place, his gaze settled on the largest building in the area besides the castle. The large red cross on the front of it showed that it was a hospital.
Hospitals had tons of rooms.
Cochylis gauged the distance and adjusted his flight path accordingly, swooping down and skidding to a halt on the road just in front of the hospital’s main entrance. He buzzed his wings one final time before folding them to his sides, and he quickly ducked inside the atrium.
Pony medical facilities were certainly a lot different than Changeling ones. This hospital looked to be an actually inviting place, unlike the quite contrary Changeling version that was often referred to as the Ministry of Death. He read through a sign on the wall that pointed the directions to the numerous departments, but the one he was after was the recovery ward. From what little he understood about these facilities, the recovery ward was where he could find bedspaces. He had always wanted to try sleeping on a Pony bed, so he followed the instructions on the sign and made his way down the hallway past the front desk.
He snaked his way down several hallways, turning left then right, climbing a staircase, another right then left again. As he rounded the next corner, he could hear some commotion coming from up ahead. One final right turn and he found what he had been looking for: A large double-door with ‘Recovery’ painted in bold black lettering above the doorframe. Hesitantly, he eased the door open and stuck his head in. Daylight was streaming in through a large hole at the back of the room, and several Changelings were already inside. Two were at the hole, climbing over the pile of rubble, and four more were milling about the place, seemingly doing the same thing that Cochylis was there to do.
He stepped into the room, slipping through the doorway and letting the door close quietly behind him. The other Changelings didn’t take much notice of him as he entered, only sparing a glance in his direction before going back to what they were doing. One, that was lying on a bed near the door, muttered a greeting, which Cochylis returned with a passing nod. As the other drone had done, the first thing Cochylis did was to go to an empty bedspace and flop down on the mattress.
The moment he hit the mattress was the moment that he knew comfort for the first time in his life. It felt like sitting on a cloud, even though Changelings had no natural ability to control the weather and therefore had no idea how soft an actual cloud was. Rather, if there was anything that compared to what he thought clouds felt like, this mattress was it. He rolled around on the soft cushion, enjoying the way the bedsheets felt against his chitin. At one point, his tongue lolled out of his mouth as he lost his composure to the heavenly mattress.
After a few minutes of rolling about like a grub, he hesitantly flopped out of the bed, landing shakily on all fours. There was a dull soreness in his hooves, one that he hadn’t noticed until the short rest brought it to his attention. He blinked hard a couple of times as he straightened his posture, a light headrush clouding his mind for a moment. Much more groggily than he had before, Cochylis stepped back out into the hallway. He let out a yawn as he started for the door, but he stopped after a few steps when two new drones entered the room.
Would the spots still be there by the time he got back? Not wanting to take chances, he reversed himself and made for the small group that was milling about down by a central desk. Perhaps one of them could reserve his place for him. As he approached, he noticed something peculiar in front of the desk. Each bedspace was separated by a divider curtain, and all of the empty ones were left open on the front side.
The bed in front of the desk had its curtain closed.
It was surely nothing, he decided. Nothing worth investigating, at any rate. He pushed the thought from his mind and focused his attention forward once more. The other Changelings had disappeared down the connecting lane that joined the two rows of beds in the ward, and he went to follow them.
A rustle from behind stopped him dead in his tracks. He stayed frozen in place, ears cocked back to listen, not turning his head to look. It was dead silent for several moments, so he turned to face where the noise had come from.
The closed room. It had to be coming from there. His curiosity piqued, Cochylis crept back over to the curtain, training his ears to listen into the bedspace. He stopped just outside of the curtain, and the quiet beeping of a heart monitor could be heard coming from within. He took a breath and steeled himself. There was probably a pony in there poised to kill whatever came through first, so he readied a shield spell just in case.
Three.
Two.
One.
With a quick pull, he slid the curtain open and stepped into the small room, summoning his shield spell as he entered and crossed to the bedside in a defensive crouch. He pulled the dagger strapped to his thigh, ready to use it to neutralize the threat.
One look at the bed was enough to make him sheath the dagger and lower his defenses. Instead of a pony sitting at the ready to go out in a blaze of glory, the bed held what looked to be a male pony with the upper half of his body completely wrapped in bandages, the only opening being for his nose and mouth. Even his eyes were covered in wrappings, making him resemble a mummy.
And to top it all off, he was shivering like a scared foal.
Cochylis wrapped his magic around the handle of his dagger again on instinct, the countless hours of training to either kill or feed off of ponies at whatever opportunity trying to kick in. Yet, as he looked at the injured stallion on the bed, a strange sense of pity came over him. The pony probably had no idea what was going on around him, helpless as a newborn grub. He released his grip on the knife again and inched closer to the bedside.
“Screw you, you damned bug.”
Cochylis reared back in surprise and ripped the dagger from the hilt, raising it above the stallion in preparation to attack. However, before he could plunge the knife into the pony’s exposed chest, the pity in his stomach returned with a vengeance. Killing a pony for a reason was not something that he considered himself above doing, considering that he had done so just the previous evening. A pony who couldn’t defend himself, now that was a different story…
...right? From what he had always been told, ponies would always kill or imprison Changelings whenever possible. The two races were mortal enemies of each other. Even though they made for an excellent food source, there was a big risk involved when dealing with Equines.
What was stopping him from finishing what had already been started by something else, though? This pony wouldn’t last more than a few more minutes here anyway, given that the hospital was due to be overrun with drones in no time at all. As surely as he was to be discovered, he was going to be killed. He might as well do it now and get it over with. One less thing to worry about, after all. He raised the knife again, holding it up to the pony’s chest and touching the tip to the tan fur. The pony twitched when he felt the blade, and his breathing increased sharply as he tensed for his execution.
Execution. Images of the hundreds, perhaps thousands of dead ponies in the streets outside filled Cochylis’s mind. There had been so much carnage, so much loss of innocent life today. Lives that may as well have been snuffed out by his own two hooves.
He had been responsible for enough death for one day. He retracted the blade again, sheathing it again as he returned to the bedside. The helpless stallion moved just a bit, deflating as he realized that there was no longer a dagger at his chest.
“What, did you mppff!” he started, cut off as a wad of cotton was stuffed into his mouth. He struggled a bit, but his wounds kept him from doing much.
“Play dead,” whispered Cochylis, eliciting a muted grunt of confusion from the pony. “Just lay still and act like you’re dead. Trust me.”
Cochylis flipped the wheel locks on the stretcher and began pushing the bed forward. The heart monitor began following as the connecting wires were pulled taut. Cochylis pulled them free from the pony’s chest with a quick yank, causing the machine to go into a fit of alarms. Surely every Changeling in the hospital heard them.
Why am I even doing this? Cochylis thought. The bed parted the privacy curtain as it entered the main hall, Cochylis following on the head end as he pushed it. Several of the Changelings had come running to see what the commotion was, and he could only hope that they bought his story.
“What’s going on over here?” one asked as he approached.
“Just found this pony in a bed. Took care of him, but that machine he’s hooked to went all kinds of crazy when I did it.” Cochylis tried his best to keep a poker face, and it seemed to be working
“Okay. How’d you do it?” the drone asked. Cochylis mimed twisting his own head, earning a nod from the other Changeling.
“I’m just gonna take him outside and throw him with the others. We can use the bed.” Cochylis said as he continued pushing the bed down the row to the double doors.
“Good thinking. Thanks for taking care of that.” said another Changeling, pulling back the curtain to the now-empty slot.
“No worries. Just take care of that screaming machine, will you?” Cochylis asked, making his tone a bit more jovial.
“Sure thing.” The other drones began to go back to what they were doing, and Cochylis made his way to the doors. As he exited, he took one last look back at the Recovery ward.
What did I just get myself into?