//------------------------------// // 6. No Singing! // Story: Catherine the Great // by Scarheart //------------------------------// Edited by DJ_Neon_Lights, Kudzuhaiku, and TuxOKC. “So,” Speaker said once the next chapter started, “You want answers? I don’t have all the answers.” Frank narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean, ‘you don’t have all the answers’?” “Well, we do have a Newton.” “Newton? Who’s or what’s Newton?” The changelings parted, forming a path from the living room to the dining table. What approached appeared to be an older changeling, though it was difficult to say. Beatrice and Frank exchanged worried and confused looks as the changeling Speaker called Newton approached them. He had the walk of the elderly and his eyes seemed to have a duller glow to them. “Mother and Father of ze Queen,” he introduced himself with reserved politeness. “I am Newton. I vunce vas ze Keeper of Lore, appointed by ze Mother, Queen Chrysalis, many years ago. I am ze most knowledgeable of my brothers unt sisters in magic and lore. I vill answer your questions to ze best of my ability.” The smile he flashed was reserved, as though merely to observe social politeness. “As ze foremost authority best qualified to explain ze magics of both our world unt yours, ze details fall upon my shoulders and mine alone. Do you have any questions?” By the time he was done speaking, Newton had seated himself next to Speaker, stiff and tall. His expression and mannerisms screamed evil Nazi scientist, an unsettling thought, but who were the humans to judge? “Okay,” Frank said, the word coming with the speed of a strolling tortoise. He noted his coffee cup had been refilled with the efficiency of ninja wait staff. Taking a sip, he then asked, “What is it about my daughter that fascinates you bug people so much?” “Changelings, Daddy!” Catherine glared at him. “They’re called changelings!” Under his breath, the man muttered, “Bugs. Changelings. Whatever.” Louder, he said in a soothing voice to his daughter, “Honey, I don’t know what they want you for. Your mother doesn’t know what they want you for.” His gaze became icy daggers as they fell upon Speaker, then Newton. “I want answers.” “I assure you,” Newton said, “You vill have zem.” He paused while changelings whisked away empty dishes. He tapped a passing changeling with a light touch of his hoof. “Coffee, if you please?” “No.” And the changeling went about his business. “More coffee?” the impolite changeling asked Beatrice, smiling a smile that would warm a cold, dead heart. “Why were you rude to him?” the woman asked the changeling. “Never give Newt coffee,” warned the changeling. She wagged the sloshing coffee pot at the stiff changeling giving her a stony glare, then leaned in to the woman. “The caffeine. He’ll never shut up. Put a pot of coffee in him and he drags everyling into his mad lectures.” Newton snorted, his facade cracking just a little bit. “I am not mad.” “Mother gave you an independent mind,” she said with a shiver. “We are all afraid of becoming like you. Thinking for yourself and doing things for yourself. When I look at you and think about the things you have said and done, I sometimes wish I was under Mother’s control. So,” she finished with a flourish, “no coffee for you!” “You are ze cruel sister!” Newton’s face fell as he pouted. “In all of my years, I have never had such an insufferable sister such as you!” She was not moved. “Save it, big brother. I am not going to suffer through another one of your caffeine benders!” The changeling turned to Frank. “Need a warm up, hun?” “Yes, please.” Frank held out his half full cup. “Not fair,” grumbled Newton. His pout grew larger. All eyes were upon him. Finally, he sighed after a pregnant pause had a litter. “In any case, ze magic is to be explained, ja?” Frank huddled around his coffee cup, hunching his shoulders forward as he leaned heavily on his forearms. “No singing.” “Nein. There will be no singing.” Frank tapped the tabletop with a solid finger. “No dancing.” “There will be no dancing.” “Can we shuffle in rhythm?” asked one of the changelings, daring to dream. “Ni!” Frank thumped the middle of his forehead upon the unfeeling wooden table. Not once. Not twice. But three times. A whimper escaped his lips. “Why me, Lord? Why, oh, why must you beset me with this test?” The changelings murmured amongst themselves. They buzzed and chirped. Newton blinked, tilting his head to one side as an ear flopped forwards and back. “To whom do you pray to?” he asked. “Nevermind,” Frank replied. He sighed and straightened in his seat. “Nevermind. Just... look, let’s get to the point. Nobody sings. Nobody dances. Nobody shuffles. I want to discuss what is going on with you guys and why you want my daughter. Is that such a hard thing to do?” “Ni,” came the word with growing sadness. Newton, meanwhile caught an elbow from Speaker. “Answer his questions, Newt. I don’t think I can keep our brothers and sisters from breaking something. They’re going to get bored and they’re going to want to explore. This house won’t keep their attention for much longer. I’m a spokesling, not an egg watcher!” Newton cleared his throat and adjusted his wings. “My explanation vill be thorough. It will be concise. It vill be easy for our human hosts to understand.” “Hooman.” “No, it is pronounced ‘human’. You have been doing it wrong.” “What kind of bean?” It was starting again. Those infuriating gabbering random words, always tearing the conversation from the subject Frank wanted to focus on. He roared. Oh, how he roared! “Just stop it!” His wife jumped in her seat, her hand to her chest as she stared at Frank, dumbfounded. "Can any of you stay focused for more than five seconds?! It's like talking to overly caffeinated squirrels!” Beatrice leaned over to Catherine, who was every bit as shocked and amazed as her mother. “Cathy, sweetie?” she whispered in a warm, playful tone. “Why don’t you go and count the changelings, then find out their names. Would you like to do that?” Angela nuzzled the girl. “I would like to help you, my Queen. There are many of us who do not have names and don’t know who they are yet. You can help them find themselves. It will be fun!” “Okay, Mommy.” Catherine slid down from her chair and went the long way around the table, avoiding her father as fearful eyes locked on him. Guilt was what she saw, in his posture and in his own eyes. She could also… Catherine blinked, shaking off the strange feeling. “I’m tired. Can I go lay down, Mommy?” She paused, looking over her shoulder at Beatrice. “I don’t feel good.” Her mother immediately rose to her feet. She brushed her fingers over her husband’s neck and shoulders as she passed behind him. Any changelings in her way fell away like automatic doors. “Potato?” Cabbage asked her, full of worry. He appeared at Catherine’s side, opposite of her mother. “Strong is her potential. Guide her, we must,” Cabbage said with sage wisdom to Beatrice. “What?” Beatrice asked Cabbage, completely flummoxed by his show of intelligence. “Wik,” he told her with a vapid smile. “What?” Beatrice repeated, even more confused now. “Also wik.” She blinked. “What do you mean?” “Also also wik.” A thousand years of wisdom cascaded forth from the mouth of infallible knowledge. Cabbage was in someone else’s element and he relished it on a bratwurst. Or something like that. The woman dismissed the changeling and his dopey smile. “She’ll be fine. She’s just tired and ate too much,” Beatrice reassured the changeling with a smile. It was odd there was something missing from Cabbage’s head. “Frank, please don’t yell. These poor things have done nothing but behaved as well as they could, given what they’re going through.” “Poor things?” Frank blinked. His coffee cup was refilled. How many cups was it? Three? Why was his mouth burned? “Poor things?!”—he smiled at the coffee wielding changeling—”They broke into our house, won't stop singing, and that one creepy one won't stop staring at me!" He flung a finger upwards as he put on a justified indignant air. Wesley waved at him from where he stood on the ceiling. “I’m going to chalk that rant off to the caffeine talking,” the changeling with the coffee pot told him with a flat stare. “I’m cutting you off.” She buzzed off towards the kitchen. “No more coffee for the hooman male!”  Frank's eye twitched. He took a deep breath in a vain attempt to quell his growing frustration. “Fine! Fine! I’m sorry! Give me space. Can you guys give me a little space? Please?” Chittering changelings slid out of the kitchen. Even Wesley did so, albeit with great reluctance. With a grunt, Frank’s stalker dropped from the ceiling, flipped upright in mid air, and caught himself on his wings. Wesley flew backwards, keeping his eyes on the human and grinning like a demented vampire. It looked menacing until his rump bumped into the wall, knocking a framed picture off. It was caught by another changeling, Silky, to be exact, who hissed. “Dummy,” she told him, her horn flaring. Her green aura surrounded Wesley’s left ear and she dragged him into the living room. He in turn struggled, looking dejected. Soon, it was just Speaker, Newton, and Frank at the table. The two changelings sat themselves in the empty chairs and made themselves comfortable. Frank guarded his cup with his arms and was again hunched over the table. His head went with his eyes, turning from one changeling to the other. The late morning sun bathed the table through the dining room window. Outside could be heard a couple of lawn mowers. In the living room, the television turned on and the volume was turned down low. Several changelings could be heard gasping in astonishment. “Let us fall down and worship!” cried a changeling. It sounded like Reggie. “All praise the idiot box!” the converts intoned in reverence. Frank sighed. It was a tired, worn sigh. The changelings were too much. They were easily distracted. There was no direction and very little cohesion. The man thought they behaved like sheltered children, seeing a bigger world for the first time. Perhaps it was even more overwhelming for them than his experience to this point with them. If only he could convince himself to believe his own words. “Let’s do this,” he said with a sense of defeatism. “Before it all drives me insane. I don’t care if you tell me unicorns move the sun.” “Alicorns, actually.” Newton supplied in an attempt to be helpful. He considered his words and amended them. “Vell, one. Princess Celestia moves ze sun where ve come from. She has done zo for a very long time unt is considered one of ze most powerful magic users in existence. She vas so powerful, Queen Chrysalis had to select a public event in vich to confront her. She reasoned Celestia vould hold back a great deal of her magic in a duel, allowing for her to be defeated. It succeeded unt ve had Canterlot conquered.” “Newt,” Speaker said in pained tones. “Vat?” The changeling cast his brother an irritated glance. “Why did you start there? Look at Mr. Hooman.” He pointed with a hoof. Frank wore a flat, unforgiving stare. “Conquest?” He blinked. An eyebrow twitched.. “Canterlot?” Newton took a moment to process the two words and associated with what he had just divulged. “I see. Keep in mind, Mr. Thomas,” he said as he flicked both ears at him, “Not all changelings were for ze invasion of Equestria—” “Equestria?!” “This vould be so much better if you vould let me sing about it,” Newton lamented with stoicism. He might as well have been as emotional as a corpse. “It haz ze catchy beat. Even better with ze glow sticks, ja?” Frank could feel the vein in his forehead throb. He could feel his neck and face warming up. His boiling point was very close. It was as though these bug… horse… things were bound and determined to make him snap. “I sense something,” Speaker told Newton with trepidation. “Something I’ve not felt since…” The changeling whipped his head at Frank. The man looked furious. “Tell him about Catherine, Newt. Please tell him now. For the love of our Mother, please tell him what he wants to know!” “Vas?” Newton shifted his attention to Frank, who was a volcano ready to pull a Vesuvius and fast. “Ja! Ja! Of course!” “My daughter. What. Do. You. Want. With. Her?” Frank was grinding his teeth. It was audible and jarred the hearing. The tendons and muscles in his neck were stretched taut. “Why do you need her to be your queen?” Newton inhaled, ready to unleash a verbal tirade. “Brother,” Speaker conversed in a warning tone, “if you so much as spout one stanza of something even remotely resembling a song, I fear Frank will kill you until you die from it.” The scholarly-seeming changeling had no intention of singing. He sneezed, coughed, then cleared his throat. “Ve vant your daughter to be our queen because ve need a young mind that is open to magic unt can be taught to use ze abilities already within her. You humans have a great deal of magic in your world, yet you do not use it. You do not even know it is there! Ve feel if your daughter Catherine can be taught how to use ze magic already within her, she would learn to accept us without fear of harm to herself.” Frank was shaking his head.“Magic? Here? You’ve got to be frigging kidding me!” A sneer curled his lip up. “I know you guys have it, but humans? Nope. There is no proof that it exists!” “Magic requires vill, Mr. Thomas,” Newton said. He shifted in his seat, leaning forward a little. “The mind has to be open to it. For us, it is as natural as ze act of breathing. We sense it because ve vere born accepting magic into our lives. For you humans, it seems to be dormant. Perhaps even dead for most of you. The magic within you is strong when you are young, but I theorize it shrivels away to near nothingness the older humans get. Catherine is at ze age where her imagination is at its strongest unt our attraction to her is irresistible.” “Why is it irresistible?” “The secret has several factors ve look for to come together. I do not know how long ve searched, but the portal led to many openings. Ve would search at the end of each portal, find nothing, unt go back to the cave where were found ze portal which led to your world.” Newton sniffed, relaxing a little as Frank’s anger slipped away and was replaced by guarded curiosity. “For weeks ve searched, ze portal leading us from one spot to another. I am certain ze portal led us to ze same world. Ve only went out in small groups as ve understood a little more how ze portal worked. One end vas stable and ze other moved once a day. “As ve went through, ve searched for something ve could identify with. We were lost and were frightened. Our connection to our Mother vas severed. Ze failed invasion had severed ze link. Ve feared ze worst had happened to her.” Newton teared up a little bit, but remained unwavering. “Though I wanted to stay in Equestria and find her, ze others had already abandoned ze hive long enough for us to be considered deserters. A dishonorable word to be associated with, but Queen Chrysalis never responded to our cries across to her mind. Mother abandoned us, so it vas reasonable for us to abandon her. Ve changelings have a strong will to live.” Frank pushed his empty cup away. “So, what happened? How did you guys find the portal in the first place?” Both changelings at the table exchanged looks. Speaker nodded. Newton nodded back to his brother. They bobbed their heads in time with each other before the elder snorted and shook his head. Spreaker frowned, not at all pleased. “Apologies. Ve vere having a mental discussion,” Newton said in a flat tone. A slight glare was flipped at Speaker. The younger changeling looked away with a huff. “Ve were guided by a... portal master... a being who guarded the cave in which ze portal ve used vas located. He gave us succor and shelter until ve could find our new queen. Once we found her, ve all vent through and ze portal vas closed behind us. Ve need guidance, Mr. Thomas. Ve need guidance because ve do not know this world. Ve found ze link we desperately needed, ze beacon to lead us, to give us hope. Do you know vat it is like to be without hope, Mr. Thomas?” Frank shook his head, not sure if what he was hearing was believable. “Probably not the way you have experienced.” “I sense you believe there is some connection, ja?” “A little. Maybe. I don’t know.” “Ve are very sensitive to ze emotions of sapient beings, Mr. Thomas. Changelings are empathic creatures. Ve are attracted to emotions. Positive emotions, especially.” “So, there were factors about my daughter which added up and attracted you all like bugs to a zapper?” Frank grinned at his own stupid joke. He grew serious before the changelings could take offense. Judging by the flat lines along their lips and the narrowing of eyes, it was too late. “Sorry.” “Ignorance plagues changelings as much as it plagues humanity,” Speaker noted, being a thoughtful philosopher. He still seemed sore at whatever exchange he had with the older changeling. Frank shifted the subject as they had gotten off track. “So, why my daughter? Why not someone else? Can’t you survive alone?” “Without a queen,” Speaker said, heaving a great sigh, “We cannot properly transition from a collective mind to many independent ones. Mother kept us under her control. Her thoughts and commands were also our anchors. She never allowed our minds to develop as individuals, save for when there was a need for it. Aside from Newton, we had two purposes. The first was to serve as hive keepers. We kept the hive clean and did all the menial tasks.” Frank had steepled his fingers and peered over them while Speaker spoke. “You mean janitors,” he observed. “Well, yes.” “And the other purpose?” “Decoys. In ze event ze hive was invaded, our job vas to assume her form unt draw attention away from her while she organized resistance unt dealt with ze threat as she saw fit,” Newton replied, happy it seemed, to see the human was no longer exhibiting hostile emotions. “So, you guys were disposable. Civilians who served as meatshields for your leadership.” The human shook his head. “So Gordon—” “Acted completely on instinct and became an imitation of your daughter in an effort to protect her.” Speaker fidgeted with his wings. “He was the first to change his form. It is our greatest ability, to look like other creatures.” “Vat is strange,” Newton mused, turning his head towards the kitchen, “is ze energy required to change from a quadruped to a biped form is enormous. It had always been far easier for us to assume ze forms of ponies, as zey are closely related to us. Ze drain on Gordon’s magic should have—” There was a loud thump and a clatter of pots and pans striking the floor. “I’m feeling a bit raw! Ow! Oh, ow! I can feel my everything! Everything hurts! It’s raw! So very raw!” “And there ve have it! Magical drain resulting in cramps, ze massive headache, unt a complete loss of bowel control!” Newton smiled, as though he enjoyed the last bit personally. Like rats leaving a sinking ship, the kitchen was vacated of all changelings, save one. “What?” Frank quipped in a deadpan. “No song and dance number on that?” Cabbage yelled from Catherine’s bedroom, “Pudding in the pants dance!” And then the music started...