//------------------------------// // Chapter 6 // Story: MLA: Perihelion // by Starscribe //------------------------------// The days were not so kind to Second Chance as they had been to the changeling that had replaced her. It was true the burns were not severe, true the voltage hadn’t been enough to do serious damage and that her body would recover on its own. Second Chance was lucky her brain hadn’t been shorted out. Instead, the nanophage in her brain put her into a near-catatonic state as it self-repaired, consuming muscle and bone and anything else for the materials it needed. Chance woke feeling not only the effects of the burns, but also the bone-deep hunger of a body consuming itself. She was barely conscious of her surroundings, the whole world a mess of gray blurs she couldn’t distinguish. She could find her way to her saddlebags, which hadn’t been removed from her back. Her coat stank fiercely, and the flesh there was red from irritation, but she didn’t notice that either. Chance found her ration packs, and chewed them open with her teeth. She sucked the sugary paste from each one, swallowing enough food for a week and still feeling hungry. She slept some more, couldn’t have said how long. Somepony moved her, from cramped containers that hadn’t felt so bad at the time. She wasn’t even aware enough to realize how filthy she was. Sometimes ponies gave her water to drink, sometimes they didn’t. Sometimes she saw light through cracks in the ceiling, though she couldn’t tell if it was from the moon or the sun. She heard nothing over her radio, nothing at all from her implants except: Nanophage implants in self-repair mode. Please wait or contact a qualified systems administrator. She was too tired to even be annoyed. Eventually something changed. She was led somewhere, struggling to walk but too tired and sluggish to resist. Something removed her saddlebags, and she stood somewhere cold. Water blasted her from all sides, scorching hot and smelling of chemicals. Her eyes jerked open in shock and sudden pain, and it was like someone lifting a fog from her eyes. Well, maybe it wasn’t the water. Self repair complete. Approximately 20 mg acepromazine neutralized. User should expect mild gastrointestinal distress as the waste is excreted. Error: system damaged. Please consult a certified nano-physician as soon as possible. As the world came flooding into her eyes, it wasn’t just the hot water that burned at her. Chance looked around, taking in her surroundings. She was standing somewhere made of concrete, with drains in the floor and a row of water jets in the ceiling. A slow row of ponies marched through the jets, mares and fillies and stallions and colts. They had very little in common, except they all looked dazed, and they were all unicorns. Strange. Chance didn’t get more time to think about it, because something prodded her suddenly in the side, something harsh and pointed. She wheeled back into line without even thinking about it, forcing her eyes back to the ground the way the other ponies looked. Outside the lane of ponies were at least a dozen changelings. Chance knew them now, knew them from pictures Twilight had shown her and the books she had read following her first kidnapping. These were the weaker kind of changelings, the drones that came in vast numbers and had attacked Canterlot all those years ago. They weren’t known for their intelligence, at least not from what she had read. Maybe she could pretend not to have woken, and they wouldn’t notice the difference. It was harder than it seemed. Now that she wasn’t so sleepy, Chance felt fierce agony whenever the jets passed over the tender parts of her back. A little pus and blood dribbled from the openings, and the smell was like death. Nanophage, am I infected? Affirmative. Subject is suffering from minor bacterial infection likely due to unsanitary conditions and untreated electrical burns. Repair not possible. She shivered as the water went from searing hot to icy cold, marching forward at the same speed as all the other ponies. So long as she stayed in line, none of the black creatures with their glittering natural armor would goad her. Why is repair not possible? Subject implants operating in emergency mode only. High-level immune functions not available. Is it… electrical damage? Affirmative. She was almost to the end of the line. The room was filled with fans, blasting a fierce wind on the ponies as though this had been a car wash. Fortunately, the Nanophage didn’t make any sound, and she could still read the messages in front of her even as she started to shiver. What about your self-repair functions? System prioritized vital operations. Scavenging less vital implants was required to protect implants in the subject’s brain. Chance cursed herself again that she had chosen Neuroboost of all the strains to inject herself with. There was good reason the general population didn’t enjoy its intelligence-enhancing and memory-sustaining operations. The cost was a brain that grew dependent on the implants, a brain that could not survive without them. As she had told Twilight Sparkle the day after she had injected herself, removing them would kill her. The same was true of all strains of the Nanophage, in their own ways. The implants took on much of the work of the subject’s immune system, so failure to repair it would result in death by infection or minor ailment sooner or later. With how sore Chance’s back felt, probably sooner. Past the tunnel was a desk, a desk with ponies behind it instead of changelings. Well, they looked like ponies. It was impossible to tell for sure with so many of the insect-creatures about. The ponies were what was holding up the line, as they scanned over plastic boxes of… stuff. Chance didn’t look closely, only conscious of the fact that the ponies were giving things to each pony in turn. They were too drugged to resist or argue, just watching as they were given a blanket and various other little objects. Chance got to the front of the line, and dared an upward glance. The ponies at the table looked… strange, there was no other word for it. Their coats looked muted somehow, like all the color and life had gone from them. The hooves moved in a rigid, mechanical way, and now Chance saw what they were doing. In the plastic tray was the contents of Chance’s own saddlebags. The two of them searched over it. They pulled out the knife, tossing it into a container behind their desk with a clank. They ignored her tablet and the medical case, but took her last ration pack. To her horror, they also took the gun, tossing it rotely into their container. One was a mare and one was a stallion, but both were unicorns. Even so, neither used their magic, moving hooves instead with the clumsiness unicorns usually had when they didn’t use levitation. Chance felt a shiver of revulsion pass through her chest, and she looked back down at the ground. A few moments later and they passed the whole container to her across the table, complete with a threadbare blanket tightly rolled at the front. Neither spoke. Another pony opened a door just in front of her, with a pink coat that somehow looked too pastel. There was pain in his voice, and fear. Fear for her? “Come with me.” She didn’t move, staring at him and trying to figure out what disturbed her. She stood in place long enough that the line was forced to stop, and insect anger chittered in the room behind her. The voice in front of her was more urgent. “Come with me or they’ll hurt you.” She didn’t resist, hurrying through the door. Chance wasn’t very good about pretending to be drugged from that point on, searching around the halls for any sign of where they were. The halls were lit with rows of identical electric lights, without a window in sight. The concrete floor looked fresh, and there were cheerful paintings on the walls. “What is this place?” There were no changelings around, at least, not that she could see. The pink unicorn stallion didn’t rush, nor did he go slow. He dragged his hooves along, looking almost as drugged as the ponies in the tunnel had. They passed through a cafeteria of sorts, all white painted walls and plain tables. There was a cheerful tropical scene on one wall, the palm trees eerily whitewashed by harsh white light. “Place,” the unicorn repeated. “Taking you to mares and fillies room. Stay in back—don’t be noticed. Maybe they take you later that way.” She shivered as she realized just what was bothering her about the stallion. As they left the empty cafeteria, making their way into a long barracks of sorts, Chance saw the side of him. Despite being an adult stallion, there was no cutie mark there, just more faded pink coat. She gasped. “Yeah.” He seemed to see what she was doing, though he didn’t stop to let her stare. He continued walking through the barracks, past rows of identical bunks. There were ponies in many of them, almost all adult mares but with a few fillies here or there. All were unicorns, and almost all were just as weak and faded as the unicorn who led her. None of those had cutie marks either. The stallion took her all the way back to the end of the barracks, so far away that the single door was a pale outline. There were very few lights in here, enough that she could just barely see. “There are two guards by the door. Stay back here, and they might not notice you. Stay hidden whenever they walk around.” He left. Chance levitated the plastic tray onto an empty bed, ignoring a distant muttering from one of the nearby bunks. All were double, so she took the bottom bunk and covered up in the blanket, in a way she hoped would conceal herself from the ponies at the door. I need to send a message to Truth. Do I have radio reception? Radio functions not available while in emergency mode. Chance muttered a swear, staring at her weaponless saddlebags and thinking. Whoever had kidnapped her had gone to enormous lengths to do it, building a machine that only might attract her to investigate it. The scale of this place was even bigger than one machine in a warehouse. Was the whole thing underground? I need to get back to Twilight. She needs to know changelings are trying something in Equestria again. How many barracks just like this were there? Were there hundreds of unicorns trapped down here? Thousands? Why just unicorns? Command not recognized. She groaned, but not too loudly. The stallion who had put her here spoke as though he thought she were still in danger. Only remaining hidden would protect her. Chance flipped her tablet’s flashlight on, examining her resources. The ponies at the gate had known what a gun was, or at least known it was dangerous. They had taken her knife too, as though she could’ve fought her way out of a place like this anyway. Alexi had always been the fighter—she probably would’ve known how to get out of this. Aside from her tablet, Chance had her trauma kit, jacket… She stopped, her eyes going back to the trauma kit. The red cross and asclepius of human healing was set into the plastic, along with the english words "Healing is a matter of time, but it is sometimes also a matter of opportunity." Her hooves shook as she undid the clasp, and found the hard plastic pressure cylinders still intact. Nanophage system. Ready. Prepare for interface with supplementary injection… she read from the side of the first red cylinder, universal_trauma_4481 and universal_trauma_4482. Command acknowledged. Chance levitated the red injector up to the back of her neck, right where spine met brain, and pressed the trigger. Her neck burned with a brief pain, along with the alien sensation of something cold crawling into her body. It didn’t last long, the pain quickly fading into the stimulants and analgesics included in the injection. She returned the empty tube to her medkit, lifting up the blue cylinder and putting it over her belly. As before she heard the rush of air and felt a brief flash of burning pain, then the sensation faded. The drugs took away her pain, but they also took away some of Chance’s senses. She barely registered the words: Self repair systems restored, integration of Nanophage strain universal_trauma in progress. Chance drifted for awhile in the river of time, conscious of little. Ponies near her moaned in some kind of general pain, but she wasn’t really aware of it. She couldn’t have said how long she lay there, awash in the warm feeling of painkillers. Then she heard a familiar voice. Chance sat up, shaking her way out of the blanket but leaving it covering her possessions. Her ears perked up, listening. “Celestia… Luna… Precursors… somepony… anypony…” The pony sounded almost like she was praying, though there was a despair in her voice Chance had rarely heard during her time in Equestria. It was like the wailing of the damned souls in Dante’s 8th circle, conscious of how helpless they were and knowing full well nobody would come for them. Chance glanced once towards the front of the room, but the pair of changelings guarding it weren’t even looking in her direction. Mostly they seemed to be watching the room from the outside. She got to her hooves, walking slowly and quietly so her steps wouldn’t echo too loud. She didn’t have far to go, just a few more beds down the line. There she found the speaker, twisted up on her blanket and shaking all over. Lyra Heartstrings looked like a sponge someone had filled full of paint then squeezed dry again. There was no luster in her mint mane, no sparkle in her eye, and no cutie mark on her flank. Chance felt that same twisting of revulsion and horror in her chest, but this time she forced herself not to look away. She walked along the bed, but the mare didn’t seem to see her. Chance made her way to the side, so that her head was only a few inches above the mare’s. “Lyra?” she whispered, her voice as loud as she could make it without being afraid she would be overheard. Lyra looked up, focusing as much on Chance’s face as the space around her. She was unmistakably listening at least, which was something. “Honored Precursors…” she muttered, her words slurring. “Please… help me… spare my Bon Bon…” Chance ignored the words, though she couldn’t ignore the guilt that mixed with confusion in her chest. Lyra Heartstrings was one of the members of an ancient cult turned modern archaeological group called the Precursor Society. Some of its members, Lyra included, still held on to the less modern beliefs. “What happened to you?” Chance held Lyra’s face in her magic, forcing the unicorn to meet her eyes and not look away. She tried, fear flashing there through the daze. She struggled a little more, wrapping herself up in the thin blanket. “Dark star…” she muttered, through a wave of faint sobs. “Falling forever… all gone…” “What’s gone?” Lyra wasn’t coherent enough to reply. She broke into fierce tears, curling up on herself in bed. Yet even as she seemed incoherent the mare turned up again, her eyes pleading. “Help me… Precursor… please.” Chance was no Precursor, nor had there ever been any. The gods Lyra prayed to had burned cities full of children and murdered their own planet. Yet for all that, Second Chance was not helpless. Her injections weren’t called “Universal Trauma” for no reason. Lyra whimpered and moaned as Chance left, grasping feebly towards her with one hoof. “Please… don’t leave…” It was all Second Chance could do not to weep as she heard those words. She did not stay away long, returning with her remaining two canisters following her in her magic. She stopped beside the bed again, looking serious. They still hadn’t attracted notice—there were plenty of moaning, suffering ponies here. Chance could not help all of them—she hadn’t brought a whole hospital with her. “Two lives,” she had told Twilight. The first was her own, already dependent on the Nanophage to keep her alive. The second would be Lyra’s. “Listen to me, Lyra.” The pony abruptly realized she was there again, falling silent and staring up at her. She was almost like a child. What kind of torture could do this to a pony? She didn’t look tortured—other than the missing color and cutie mark. “Human science can help you. If I use it, though, you’ll be dependent for life. You can’t undo it.” “Please…” Lyra squeaked again, reaching toward her. “Precursor… came to Equestria… save us… dark star…” Chance lowered the first canister with her magic, placing it near Lyra’s neck. She held the other one over the mare’s belly, doing her best guess at where she could find a vein. It didn’t really matter, of course. A vein just meant it would work faster. “Be healed.” She injected both canisters simultaneously, holding them firmly even as the mare started to squirm and buck in bed. Lyra didn’t fight for long. A few seconds of fighting and she went quiet and still. The twisted pain faded from her face, and she smiled vaguely out at Chance. “Thank… you…” “Don’t thank me, thank modern medicine.” Chance sat down beside her bed, looking down at the plain concrete floor. “Well technically, I suppose you could just thank morphine. Guess it can even cure… whatever happened to you.” Some time passed. Chance let herself drift, watching the room without much recognition. Her back stopped burning and started throbbing, and she knew her own body was well on its way to fixing itself. She tried to sleep as she sat, but was too nervous for that, too afraid for what might be waiting for her when she awoke. Hadn’t she seen Lyra the day before she left? They hadn’t spoken, but the unicorn had seemed well. Either she was stolen the same day, or… or the changelings were involved in that too. Stealing ponies away to replace made enough sense, she supposed. Couldn’t have the real ponies breaking in to spoil the ruse. Could changelings drain so much from their captives that they were left in this barely-alive stupor? Even if that was true, it didn’t explain why only unicorns had been stolen. Replacing Chance made sense, she was the apprentice of a princess and had a position of influence. But what was the point of replacing a relatively unimportant freelance harpist? Was Lyra’s position with the Precursor Society important enough to be worth stealing? Chance didn’t actually know enough about the group to know, but judging by the disdain Twilight had expressed when she talked about them… “Second Chance.” Lyra looked up from the bed, her eyes seeming to focus on her. However much time had passed, the mare looked much better. Color hadn’t really come back to her coat, and her cutie mark was still gone, but it wasn’t as though Chance expected the Nanophage to be able to treat either of those things. Chance watched her, hooves resting on the empty canisters of Nanophage. “Are you back?” “I feel strange.” Someone shouted from the doorway. Chance didn’t really listen—she had been tuning out the business of this place as she focused on Lyra. “Congratulations Lyra, you’re the second pony in history to be treated with nanomedicine.” Lyra smiled weakly. “That sounds great.” Her face grew more fearful, and she leaned up, glancing towards the door. Chance followed her eyes, watching the group of changelings there. There were nearly a dozen of them, all dark drones with strange lengths of wood levitated in their magical grip. They moved down the line of bunks in a systematic way, selecting ponies and dragging them out into the hall. “Did they take you yet?” Chance shook her head. “Take me where?” The unicorn gestured urgently, pulling the blanket up over them. “Quick, get under here! Don’t let them see you!” Chance didn’t object, hopping up onto the bed, cooler than she expected after Lyra had been resting on it for so long. The mare hastily covered her with the blanket, then moved forward to the front of the bed and sat upright in that strange way of hers. Chance shivered, trying to be as small as possible. She was a unicorn, which meant she was bulkier than pegasi but slimmer than earth ponies. Would that be small enough not to be noticed? Insects chittered angrily, and she felt something shift on the bed. A second later and Lyra hit the ground, screeching. “No! Not her!” It made no difference. Something ripped the blanket off her back, and Second Chance was dragged screaming from the room. * * * Brigid Curie glided through the halls of the Great Pack’s domain with all the fire of mighty Lugh sweeping behind her. At her step dogs bowed and conversation stilled, as all assembled gave proper respect to their god. Bree had many bodies now, each one identical to this one. Each one had a fork to drive it, a non-sapient copy of her thoughts and memories that could repeat actions or patterns she had done but never conceive of anything new. The dogs never noticed—never noticed that whenever they asked questions the forks didn’t know how to answer or did something she wasn’t expecting, that there was a brief delay, as Bree switched from one body to another and dealt with the situation personally. In that way, she was more than a distant leader even to great numbers of dogs. Bree could be their tribal god, bringing order where it was needed and persuasion where dogs required it. Of course, visiting dogs was only incidental in the mission Bree had given herself this night. She passed into the army cavern, where dogs stood with hard plastic rifles and thin alloy armor on their bodies. Even Leo had to show his identification here, but Bree did not. What mortal would ask their god for ID? She passed the training cavern without even looking in, hurrying past soldiers that stiffened and saluted as she passed. Leo might be intolerable, she thought as she went, ignoring the dogs and their animal respect. At least all this training civilized them. Walking on two legs all the time and wearing clothes. It’s a start. She reached the hall the knights used, slowing around the corner. Bree reached up, straightening her hair and brushing a little dust from her white dress. Bree couldn’t have said why she bothered. Either that, or she didn’t want to admit it. He’s so much like Charles. The door opened at her wave, swinging outward toward her with the grinding of stone on stone. She strode swiftly into the meeting hall, white hem rustling around her legs. The knight alone waited inside, his own robe as white as her dress in the harsh artificial light. She could dimly hear voices from another cavern, the voices of his “squires.” Well, the fool could play pretend with the dogs all he wanted so long as he did as he was told. “Lady Brigid Curie.” He brought his fist to his chest in the characteristic Tower salute. “An honor as always to see the appointed regent of our king.” He gestured to one of the chairs, which were larger than was comfortable for humans but still about the same shape. They were more like stone thrones than real chairs. I bet he was in his fifties when he went cybernetic, she thought, as she made her way to the chair. “The honor is mine, Sir Knight. Your service is a light to our mission and the whole Tower.” She hopped up onto the chair, which was too high off the ground for her feet to reach it. Instead they swung freely, and she frowned at the uncomfortable sensation. Pretending he’s still made of meat, sitting down like he’d get tired. Idiot. “My light comes from God.” Sir Leonidas did not sit until she had. “I thank you for making time so quickly. This matter is urgent.” “Too urgent to have used the radio?” She tried to keep the bitterness from her voice. Tried, and mostly succeeded. As though coming here makes the slightest difference. “Our mission requires much of me, Sir Knight. The Tower cannot afford for me to be distracted.” “Indeed not.” He leaned across the table, seeming either not to notice or to care about her anger. To the knight’s credit, he didn’t react to her child’s body either, hadn’t ever treated her with any less respect than her position demanded. Perhaps slightly more respect. “His Grace knew as I knew that when you came, communication would not be possible. It was wisdom to send a regent as skilled and wise as you. I fear, however, that the direction our mission has taken must soon change.” Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t actually object. His complaint had been polite enough, so she could do him the respect of paying attention through the whole thing. “The guards who watch our border have discovered something… disturbing. I know Richard ordered you to conceal our presence at all costs, yet… I wonder if he might change that directive if he saw what we have discovered.” Bree raised an eyebrow. Leonidas had already tried to get their orders changed a dozen times or so. Often his objections were flimsy, and they knew it. What Leo really wanted was to return to his friendship with the diarchs, to reassure them that he was well and discover from their own lips what had happened to Equestria and how the old war had ended. Because he was a knight and not a technocrat, the man had no subtlety at all, so he had just told her that the first time they met. “I doubt it.” Her words were bitter, no longer bothering to restrain her annoyance. “Forgive me Sir Knight, but His Grace was quite specific. I don’t know of anything you could discover that would change our mission.” “We will see.” Leo reached down with his hands to the holodisplay in front of him. He doesn’t even use radio control. Of course she didn’t actually say that out loud, or let him hear the laughter which followed. After a few moments of manipulation, the holofield projector set into the table began to glow, an image already floating there waiting for her. Bree couldn’t restrain a shiver at the sight of the bodies. There were five in all, each one an adult stallion of either the earth or pegasus tribes. They all had their throats cut, and were pierced all over by many other wounds. “Where was this taken?” Bree collected herself, forcing her voice neutral again. The easiest way to do that was to stare at the table and not think about what she was seeing. “In one of the exterior burrows. It doesn’t connect with the complex, and no guard was around. One smelled something strange a few hours ago, dug down to investigate, and found this.” Leo did not look away from gore and death, nor did he look the least bit perturbed by it. He did seem somber, though. “Notice anything about their cutie marks?” Bree couldn’t help herself. Despite the somber scene, despite the dead and the severity of the situation, she had to choke back a giggle. Only machine discipline made it possible. “Excuse me, their what?” He gestured with a finger, pointing through the holospace at the bright shield on one of their flanks. “That’s what these are called. Simon told me the name hasn’t changed since I was gone.” “Cutie marks,” she repeated the word, still sounding amused. Then she looked back up and felt sick all over again, sick that she could possibly find anything about this situation funny. “They’re all… weapons or armor. I’ve seen them on the Equestrian natives before, but I don’t see how they matter.” “I regret the wise regent has not had the opportunity to familiarize herself with Equestrian culture. Despite the simplicity, I have no doubt the modern variant is just as rich as the ancient.” He gestured, and the image vanished from the holospace. Bree exhaled, though of course she didn’t actually breathe anymore. Even so, she couldn’t help but feel better. It was wrong for the gruesomely slaughtered to be just laying there like that. It brought back memories of London, of flattened buildings and bombs screaming as they fell. Of scavengers with thick masks over their head picking through the dead and dying alike with equal coldness. She shivered involuntarily. I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m not weak anymore. “In any case, the marks demonstrate beyond doubt in my mind these ponies belonged to the guard—Celestia’s Solar Guard, since it was all pegasi and no bats.” Bree nodded. “I… trust your men can see to a proper burial for them, in keeping with those rich pony customs of theirs.” Bree shook her head. “Don’t take me for callous, Sir Knight. It pains me greatly that this fate has befallen the Equestrians. Even so, I do not see how this changes our mission. Equestria is itself still a barbarian place. The ponies have made of it what they could, but that doesn’t mean it’s free of danger. We cannot get involved because a few soldiers die.” “Indeed not.” Leonidas rose to his feet suddenly, a towering figure of dark skin and strong muscle. There was nothing childlike or graceful in those features. “Were this some skirmish, we might never have known what had caused it. I probably would have guessed their demise came at the hands of some monster from the Everfree, which is very near and full of wild creatures.” Bree stood too, though her head barely reached the table. She probably could’ve stood on the chair and not been even close to a height with Leo. At least the king isn’t yelling at you again. Of course, there was a still darker thought. What will Richard do when he discovers Tesla and I lied to him? Bree prayed she would never learn the answer. Leo was still speaking. “I sent my squires to scout the whole territory and secure it. Dogs are always traveling out by night, I could not allow one of them to be hurt by whatever enemy had killed these ponies.” She nodded, walking around the table so she could get a better look at him. “You do your duty well, Sir Knight. Our guard could have no better captain.” Even as she said the words, she felt dread growing in her chest. He wouldn’t tell me all this if he hadn’t found something. Leo turned and shouted down one of the doorways that led into the squire’s barracks. “Bring the prisoner!” Metal armor clanked as the squire came into view, dragging something along behind her. Yuna might be a female, but she stood taller than Leo and that was without powered armor. With it, metal joints glittering and servos grinding, she was nearly as large as the doorway. She held thick rope in both of her gloved paws, dragging until she was only a few feet away from Bree. The young technocrat briefly disconnected herself from the puppet body, returning herself to virtual space. She dropped onto her knees and wretched in pure, animal instinct. There was no pain, and nothing came from her lips. No pain but the one she remembered, from when she had been biological and subject to the weaknesses of flesh. Bree snapped back to herself fast enough that she hoped none of the others would notice, straightening. “—interrogated it thoroughly. I am quite confident the beast is honest with me.” Leo’s voice, colder than a grinding glacier. She forced herself to follow the rope to the pony on the end again. Well, it was only vaguely pony-shaped. Its skin was black and shiny, more like a bug’s exoskeleton than a pony’s coat. It had hooves and stood slightly smaller than an equestrian adult, with transparent wings on its back and a curved horn. It might’ve been cute, had it not been tortured. She couldn’t look at the bleeding stumps that looked like they had once held antennae. Its horn had been hacked off as well, its whole body was torn with many wounds. Wounds that could’ve come from the short knife Leo kept always at his belt. “Why?” She interrupted him, unable to hide her horror. “Why would you do this?” Knights were supposed to be good! Bree was the one lying to the king, the one planning to take over Equestria! Knights of the Tower had a code, and honor, and all that stuff! Worse, Leonidas was more than just any knight. Leonidas was the knight mothers told stories about to their children. The unsoiled champion of the east God himself had taken to his bosom. As Leo spoke, insect eyes looked up at Bree with unmistakable horror. “What one changeling sees the whole swarm may know. Without its antennae, however, it is powerless to report us. Even drones can kill with their magic… though they are mostly likely to kill themselves to prevent capture and interrogation. We didn’t give it the chance.” Leo walked up beside the terrified captive, thick rope tied about its neck and green blood seeping from its wounds. “Tell the lady regent what you told me. What does the swarm intend for Equestria?” It squeaked in a barely-intelligible slur of pain and loathing. “Invasion!”