//------------------------------//
// The Reviled Resistance 
// Story: Peace 
// by Masterweaver 
//------------------------------//

	Subject EL-E25, current balance of 7/10. PhiStorErAg ratio: 4/5/0/1. Rate of extraction: 17 Cs per second. Illusive Stability: High. Physical stability: Average.

Hmm. 7/10. It was 5/10 only a week ago. And a complete loss of Eros... EL-E25 was never very high, but to just dump it all on Philos could suggest a failure in the self-worth cycle. This would have to be reported to the mindweavers, hopefully before she was drained. He opened to the Sharing, marking EL-E25 as a priority.

For a moment, he looked through the Sharing, hoping to glimpse the Queen. But... no. The days of her constant presence had ended when Canterlot fell.

He withdrew with a sigh, moving on to the next cocoon. PB-P073, a particularly dangerous sort--marked with a pre-req to keep her below average physical stability. A high balance of 2/10, but at only 5 Cs a second. The PhiStorErAg ratio shed some light to the reasons behind that: 3/0/0/7, almost as pure as... well. Illusive stability was average, and physical stability was low but acceptable.

This one barely changed. True, there'd been that scramble a while back when the gems were re-installed into that crystal tree, but other than that her balance barely fluctuated and her extraction swung up and down regularly. It had taken a whole squad to bring her down, all undisguised--she'd had some strange ability to notice disguises. There was a constant betting pool in the Sharing about how long it would take this pony to be drained... he himself had put a few threads on the possibility she'd never be drained at all.

Well, only a few. Mostly as a joke. An undrained pony was a wasted pony, after all, and...

He shook his head. Best not to focus on that. He was nearing the end of his rounds, coming on the big four.

Ah, UB-E92. He'd heard rumors of this one, how she'd woven illusions on the battlefield, how she was almost deceptive enough to be a changeling herself. And she hadn't quite been beaten yet--unlike most others, her eyes sometimes opened, blankly darting around. Illusive stability was barely kept at acceptable levels, often times going critical with barely any warning. Even her extraction was notable: 1/10 at 20 Cs a second, but only 4 of those would fit into the PhiStorErAg ratio; the rest was a rare philautia blend that only the queen was allowed to drink. Other than that, she was almost pure--8/0/1/1. And her physical stability was, as always, exceptionally high.

It was an interesting counterpart to the Pony Champion whose cocoon formed the Queen's pillow. She'd become known for her speech, for her words; she'd talked down the Nightmare, and then the spirit of Chaos. She'd tried to talk to the Queen, before and after the reveal... but the Queen laughed at her words. UB-E92, though, used her words as weapons; where the Pony Champion tried to invoke harmony, this mare would shove herself up to great and powerful heights. And for the longest time, she was amongst the greatest threats to the swarm.

She was... she was almost like the Queen had been, in the old days. Sometimes, in his nightmares (or perhaps deepest dreams), he'd see her break free and conquer the hive herself, making things the way that they once were.

He shook his head, turning to the other mindbending member of the big four. EP-E94. One of only five ponies to have a balance of 1/10, and at 50 Cs a second that was almost incredible. Attempts to classify her PhiStorErAg ratio had all but failed; all that was certain was that it constantly changed, and that it would make any changeling incredibly loopy. Oddly enough, she had not required any illusion for extraction; in point of fact, her rate dropped when illusion was applied. She waved at him as he passed, smiling... was it a sad smile?

This once, just this once, he waved back before checking her physical stability. Amazing as always. This mare was a contradiction, a rebel who never surrendered but gave freely. Sometimes when he darted into the Sharing, he could hear whispers--she wasn't doing anything wrong. She could be released. She could be a pet.

The Queen never heard these whispers, of course, or she would have been enraged. Doubly so after the Crystal Tree event.

With one last apologetic smile, he patted the cocoon and moved on. EP-E94 might have been the penultimate capture, but PY-E93 was the one that had been considered the true demon in that last battle. Images in the Sharing were passed around like a horror film, of how she was able to devastate so many... the most famous, of course, being the one where she tore the Queen's wing off. With her teeth.

Her status was a problem. Her PhiStorErAg ratio was almost level; 3/2/2/3. But her ratio was 4/10 at only 3 Cs a second, and every Cupid extracted had to be carefully purified of hate before being passed around. In fact, she'd been moved to the incubation list because of it, the only one of the big four to be added; from the size of her belly, the current foal was in its third month. Thankfully unlike the other members of the big four, her illusive stability never wavered below average; he didn't want this kind of monster breaking free. And her physical stability seemed decent.

He would hate to be the changeling on matron duty for this one. If she woke mid-birth, all tartarus would break loose.

And then there was the crown jewel, Z-E95. He walked up to the final cocoon, set on a special dais. The three alicorns made the Queen's bed, but this one was kept out as a statement, a reminder of the Queen's power. Many changelings would visit here... even more, these days, as the Queen rarely joined the Sharing anymore. They'd watch her shake off all illusions, only to stare as she was kept barely alive, watching her foes. Her extraction was impossibly slow--only one Cupid a second--impossibly constant--a balance of 1/10--and impossibly pure--0/0/0/10 on the PhiStorErAg scale.

He looked at her, and she looked at him.

And, as always when he reached the final cocoon, he stopped, ready to ask today's question.

This time, though, he didn't have his list. The list was gone, no suggestions from the Sharing, no thoughts of his own. Perhaps it had been a silly ritual, all things considered; he wouldn't have heard any reply, and he wasn't sure she could understand. But a part of him still wanted to believe, to think that she could dispense wisdom even from her position of failure.

A simple phrase rolled out of his mouth, almost unbidden.

"What's the point...?"