//------------------------------//
// Chapter 51. Guided Missiles 
// Story: H'ven Sent 
// by otherunicorn 
//------------------------------//

Another day had arrived. At least, that's what the ambient lighting was suggesting. A much as lying here with Cacha was heavenly, life wasn't going to wait for me to lie about.

I stretched, reveling in the sensation. I was feeling psychologically refreshed, but a little sleepy after a night of serious hugging. It was great to have my favorite body pillow back! I gave her a nuzzle before rolling off the bed and onto my hooves.

"Going somewhere?" Cacha asked.

"Yup. I have a daughter to visit. I also want to see how Snow is doing. I suspect she also has a pointy bit," I said.

"I'll let you discover that for yourself. You know I asked her not to let you see her before I had shown myself to you?"

"That would explain it. Nopony seemed to want to see me last night. It was quite depressing!"

"I did," Cacha said.

"Yes, you did," I said, leaning across the bed to give Cacha another hug. "But you had me believing you didn't want to, either! Come on, we have places to be."





Cacha and I were standing outside the Storm Clinic. My intention was to tidy up a loose end from the day before, specifically, meeting the other pony that had been avoiding me – Snow. As far as l knew, Snow was yet to be given a home in Habitat Ten, so this was the logical place to start looking for her. If she wasn't here, Stormie, Brainstorm or one of the staff would know where she had gone.

Now that I knew what had been done to Cacha, I was expecting Snow to be another pony with a pokey bit, and probably a weapons system to go with it. Trying to limit Snow's access to where she had spent her last two thousand years would be cruel, not to mention difficult, as she was bound to know any alternate routes out of the habitat. Clearly, the only viable solution was to add her to the ranks of heavy weapons ponies.

Thinking back to my conversation with Stormie about Snow, modification was already on the table, and Stormie had tapped her forehead when I asked what the modification would be. I had thought she may be referring to a way to fix Snow's damaged speech centers, but in retrospect, clearly she had meant she intended to give Snow a horn.

Before we could even reach out for the handle, the door to the clinic creaked open. Ancient hinges tended to do that. Someone needed to oil them if we were to get another hundred years or two from them. There was no way I was going to run around trying to magically fix all of the worn hinges in the habitat! Hoofsteps heralded Snow's arrival, and she emerged, pokey bit first. Indeed, she was sporting the expected horn, white, but with the slightest hint of transparency, very much like her coat. She raised a hoof to it, touching it.

"Nice, isn't it?" she voiced. No she didn't. Snow's mouth had not moved. The comment had arrived in my mind as a fully assembled thought structure, not unlike when a hoof scanner spoke. I was sure it was Snow who had communicated, though.

"Snow, you can speak properly now?" Cacha asked. Cacha must not have noticed Snow's mouth had not moved.

Snow shook her head. "My language centers are still mangled. I am using yours to communicate with you," she thought at us. Well, that's how my brain decoded it. Snow was dumping a concept into the language centers of our brains, allowing our own brains to form the words. That was an interesting idea. That got me thinking. What if the spell was upgraded so that it could extract the converted words, allowing Snow to actually say them? It would be similar in operation to my language learning spell. I put it in the puzzle it out later category. After all, it wasn't as if Snow actually needed it.

"It works well," Cacha said. "How did you learn how to do that?"

"It is very old magic. Stormie taught it to me. She read it off the scripts on the horn inside an old food generator."

Ha! I hadn't been too far off with my guess!

"Did they make any other changes, like fitting you with a weapons system?" I asked.

"They made changes," Snow said, then began to unfurl.

At first I thought she was extending her weapons, but the shape was wrong, and the material too flimsy. It was as if she was peeling back the black armor of her hellite body. I wondered if she had a new way of returning to a full pony. But that wasn't it. As they extended, one on each side of her, the thin black hide tightened, held by curved spars. Wings. Snow had bat-pony wings. The Storms were getting creative, and dangerous! Give them a sample of DNA, and they could now splice it into a living pony.

Could the pegasi be restored from samples of alicorn DNA or would we need real pegasus DNA to do that? Perhaps we could see the return of all pony breeds. That would be wonderful. As much as I liked giving the Storms grief over the way they had initially treated me, I did appreciate them. They were playing a significant role in the salvation of the ponykind of Habitat Eleven.

"Real or cybernetic?" Cacha asked.

"Real, from bridge pony DNA. I also have weapons. Unicorn guns," Snow said, extending a barrel from her hoof.

That was no surprise.

"We're off to see Allie," I said. "Then we're off to do some combat training. Would you like to come with us, Snow?"

She nodded.

"I have the weapon. Now I need to learn the skills."





3G1 was finally getting his wish, to train me as a regular cadet – sort of. He had Cacha, Snow and I going around the team training course as a group. It made sense. While Cacha and I were well synchronized in ordinary life, operating as a team to pass difficult obstacles was something that needed a little practice. While we were managing, we were some way off doing it naturally. Catwalk running and Freerunning were similar in some ways, but very different in others. Of course, Snow had no real experience in integrating with us. Working with her could only be beneficial.

The three of us approached the wall. It wasn't so tall that I couldn't jump it if I wished. After all, I had been told off for doing exactly that. Ordinary ponies, on the other hoof, found it essential to work as a group, which is exactly what we were going to do now.

Cacha and I reached the wall ahead of Snow, reared, and interlocked our fingers so that Snow had a step to climb on. As soon as we had her rear hoof in our grasp, we boosted her to the top of the wall, which she straddled. She reached down grasping Cacha's forehooves.

"This is silly," Snow said. "I have wings. I could just fly over it."

"First, you need more practice flying," I said, grasping Cacha's rear hoof, boosting her as Snow lifted.

"Second," Cacha said, "If you did, you would leave us behind, because we can't fly."

"Third," I said as they both reached down to grasp my forehooves, "We were ordered to do it this way, and 3G1 gets annoyed when we disobey."

Together they hauled me up onto the wall with them. From there, it was a simple matter for us to jump down to the ground on the other side.

"And fourth," I said, "The circumstance in real life in which we would need this skill could be quite different. What if you have broken your wing and can't fly? What if we are in a narrow corridor and need to get up through a hole in the ceiling? What if..."

"You win the argument," Snow said. "Did you notice that we were able to coordinate our actions without discussing them?"

"We were, weren't we?" I agreed. Progress had been made!

We were approaching the final obstacle when I noticed a familiar black-maned, medium-grey pony had entered the area – the commander, 1R2. I hadn't spoken to him since the time he had objected to the new laws regarding the treatment of the Hellites. I wondered what had brought him down here.

After our previous conflict, he had been under observation for several months. Within that time, it had become clear he had accepted that I was the queen and was no longer going to rebel against me. That rebellion had resulted in me giving him the tongue. That may have seemed a strange course of action, but it had proved to him that Hellites were not contagious, or a threat... mostly, thus voiding his objections.

I stopped near 3G1. I was interested in hearing the exchange between these two. Cacha and Snow stopped beside me, also curious.

"1R2, what are you doing here?" 3G1 asked, as the commander approached him.

"I came to see how you were managing with the new cadet I assigned you. How's it going, training the most dangerous pony in H'ven?"

Well... maybe I hadn't convinced him that I was mostly harmless.

3G1 looked puzzled. That changeling really must have spent the last year hiding under a rock.

"Do you mean 1C3, 1C4, or 5N0? That 5N0 one that says very little, and when she does, it makes no sense. She just follows what the others tell her to do. 1C4 hasn't given me any real issues, but 1C3... she is troublesome at times. She seems to have a problem with authority. She even showed up with the other two in tow the other day, insisting I train them as well. There were no commands given through official channels."

"You are kidding me, right?" 1R2 asked, rubbing his chin with his hoof, his bemusement clearly visible.

"I know. It's shocking, isn't it?

"No, you dolt. I'm talking about you. What part of an order directly from the queen isn't official enough for you?"

"I haven't had any orders directly from the queen. Everything I have heard about this came from 1C3." The lack of puzzlement on 3G1's face showed that he really didn't think things through. He was good military material – the sort that did things without question, if the orders came through the expected channels. He had reached his maximum rank already.

"Don't tell me you haven't realized that 1C3 is really 1A1. She's the queen, you dolt!" 1R2 said. "Had you really not worked that out?"

3G1's eyes went round, and he stared at me without saying anything. It was as if he was waiting for the punch-line to an elaborate joke.

1R2 faced me. "Your majesty, is there any particular reason why you are pretending to be CIBO here?"

I nodded. "I didn't want to scare this fellow too much," I said. "I imagine that training the queen would worry most... ponies."

"With your record of blowing things up, yes," 1R2 said.

3G1's eyes went even rounder.

"You are enjoying this, aren't you, 1R2?" I asked.

"You can call it my revenge," he chuckled.

"It seems to be stressing the wrong pony though," I pointed out. I wondered if 1R2 knew about changelings yet.

"True, true," he agreed. "I must think on this more. Perhaps I will need to resort to leaving a spider in your bunk."

"And if I shoot it?" I asked innocently, batting my eyes for effect.

This time 1R2's eyes went round.

"You would, wouldn't you," he muttered.

I nodded.

"Okay, you win, again," he said. "I really should know better than to challenge you, even in jest."

"So 1C3 really is the queen? You aren't joking, are you? And you know her, personally?" 3G1 managed after some stammering. Evidently he had manage to reengage his brain, but not well enough for him to leave gaps for others to answer.

"Yes, I've known her for quite some time. From before she came to power, in fact," 1R2 said, nodding. "We have even kissed."

That was true, if somewhat out of context on both counts.

"Why would her shooting a spider be so bad?" 3G1 asked.

"May I, your majesty?" 1R2 asked.

I nodded. "You may as well. You've already terrified this poor pony. You may as well finish the job." 3G1 was about to get an education!

1R2 smiled before continuing. "That would be because the last time she shot a bug, it left the black mark on the sky!"

Yup, 1R2 definitely knew about changelings. I wondered if he knew he was speaking to one now. Ah, that question was moot.

3G1's eyes went pale, then turned blue. A green pseudo-flame burst into existence above his head, dropping down, following his contours as it burned away his pony disguise. Within moments we found ourselves staring at a black, pony-shaped bug.

1R2 raised an eyebrow at the display.

"Changelings look like this?" Snow asked.

"Yes, 5N0, this is what most of them look like. Only the royalty are any different."

"Thank goodness they wear glowing disguises," she said. "If they did not, we would not be able to tell them apart from each other!"

She had a point! Admittedly I was getting used to telling the royal aides apart, but that was often due to differences in voice, speech, mannerisms and as often as not, context.

I looked back at 3G1. His stress seemed to have peaked, and he was standing there, dead still. It was most unlike him. Usually he expressed himself as if he was in command of a situation. Having satisfied myself that he wasn't about to expire from that stress, I turned to 1R2.

"1R2, when did you find out about changelings?" I asked.

"I was brought up to date when I was allowed to return to my old position," he said.

Of course. The commander of the death squads would be high enough up the hierarchy to be included in the little secret shared by all Hellites and changelings.

"And you knew 3G1 was one?" I asked.

"Until just now, no, I didn't. I know of them, but not their identities. Had I realized, I wouldn't have dropped the bug joke!"

I faced the changeling. He was still standing rock-steady. His featureless blue eyes really made it hard to judge where his thoughts were. "3G1? Are you all right?"

He relaxed, then suddenly, but gracefully bowed before me. "My queen, I am sorry for my impertinence. Please forgive your humble servant."

Ah. He was worried about his own hide!

"It was my choice to not identify myself. You hold no blame."

"You are not displeased?"

"No, 3G1. You have been training me well. Would you have been able to do so if you were worried about offending me? I'd still be jumping over the barricade instead of climbing it, wouldn't I?"

"This may be true," 3G1 admitted, slowly nodding to himself.

1R2 spoke. "3G1, you can claim something not many, if any, other ponies or changelings can claim. You are the queen's personal trainer."

That perked him up.

"I am, aren't I?"

"Yes, 3G1," I said. "That you are. Now, assuming the commander does not wish to speak to me, shall we get back to training?





"Teaching us that spell was a brilliant idea," I said. Cacha and I could now thought-talk with each other and with Snow. It was a much more pure form of communication, not to mention private, if we chose it to be. It fortunately came with targeting parameters, allowing us to select with whom we wished to communicate. While I intended to continue using regular speech for day to day conversations, there were times when that was simply inadequate.

Now was one such time.

Snow, Cacha and I were practicing our combined skills again, but in real-life circumstances. We were running the catwalks of the lower levels. It was dark, except for the distant lights that dotted the lower levels, our eyes providing the only real illumination. We weren't just running either. We were freerunning as a team. Some maneuvers were too difficult for a single pony to attempt, but as a team, they were possible.

Warnings, intentions, locations of convenient hoofholds, everything that would be impossible to communicate quickly enough via speech flashed between our minds as concepts, as images, as data. Cacha would know exactly where to put her hoof because I had just mentally shown it to her. I would know to move slightly to the left to give Snow adequate space to land. Together we could plan a complex leap that used our combined reach within a fraction of a second.

In reality, most of these complex and potentially dangerous moves were totally unnecessary, but we could imagine a time when such precision could be the difference between life and death. We had seen our enemy only once, and come away from the encounter either severely wounded, or dead. That would not happen again. Next time we would be ready.

Next time, those clockwork spiders would learn that nobody, mechanical or otherwise, fucked with the ponies of H'ven and got away with it.