A Collective Unconscious

by The Fruity Cousin

First published

Take a peek into the last days of the Changeling race.

What thoughts went through Princess Cadence's head when she banished the changelings that fateful day in Canterlot? Nopony knows, but that hardly matters now. Following the changelings' expulsion from Canterlot, their race suffered a catastrophic loss of life, their population reduced to less than 5% of what it had been. Their troubles were not at an end, however. For after its near defeat to the changelings, the nation of Equestria enacted in an aggressive policy to eradicate the last few that remain.
In this tale, follow the survivors of the failed invasion in their final actions and moments, and take a glimpse into the machinations of the Changeling Hive Mind.

Chapter 1

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Chapter 1

Tall, long-dead grass, colored a withered brown like much of its sun-baked surroundings, undulated under a dry breeze. The moistureless wind made it seem as though the scorched land was a mass of murky waves, a dead sea stretching endlessly into the far horizon, dotted with small sandbars of the corpses of the stunted trees that futilely attempted to grow in the inhospitable soil, and only succeeded in shriveling up and dieing. How fitting was it, that within this parched wasteland, a creature also born within a hostile environment would arrive in these lands near-dead.

The tides of the dry-reed sea were broken as an insect-like equine made its way through the grasses that towered over it, rustling as they were pushed out of its path. The quadrupedal creature stuck out like a sore thumb, its black carapace contrasting sharply with the anhydrous, brown palette that colored the landscape. Along the creature’s segmented chitin ran many ichor-oozing, hairline cracks, opening and closing with each wheezing breath it made as it stumbled out of the tall grass, arriving under the diminutive canopy of a shriveled tree, and half-fell over, half-sat down near the base of the trunk. The frayed and torn remains of its insectoid wings fluttered against the deep-blue carapace of its back as its perforated hooves dug into the dehydrated earth at the roots of the tree, using the many natural holes, and the recent additions of chips and cracks, in its forehooves to scrape away the dirt.

While its body was preoccupied with the dirt at its hooves, closing its one remaining compound eye in concentration - the turquoise visual cells that had comprised the other recently shattered - the creature focused on the mental echoes originating from the back of its mind. Bracing itself, the tattered insectoid connected to the unique form of communication possessed only by its kind, a cognitive connection it shared with the rest of its species: the Changeling Hive Mind.

<-why did this happen to-> <-nopleasenoohnoplease-> <-the Queen, she caused thi-> <-Gods! Why have you for-> <-elp! Please, someone-> <-one know where nurse-Epsilon-93-><-ohgodohgodwhygod-> <-ey’re coming! They’re-> <I’m bleeding! Oh Gods, I’m-> <e’s dead! The Queen is-> <-we need to regroup! We-> <-’re all doom-> <-ere am I!? I->

Thrust into the uncharacteristically chaotic forum of the hive mind, the changeling was momentarily disoriented by the sudden flood of panicked transmissions into its mind. Taking a moment to right itself mentally, the insectoid accessed the Hive Mind archive to take stock of the losses its kind suffered at the citadel of their mammalian-equine enemies.

As of 14:29:00 today, population was of 2,671. As of 19:40:26 today, population is of 117.

The changeling ceased moving, its mind unable to process the ineffable diagnostic announcing the near-eradication of its species. The battered creature was lost to the world, with only the dull mental roar of the other surviving members of its kind and the faint rustling of the dead grasses around it to remind the shattered creature that the world had not ceased in existence. Time was meaningless to the insectoid until it was shocked out of its thoughtless confusion when the main forum of the hive mind was alerted by another diagnostic.

Current population of 116: worker-Beta-429 deceased as of 19:45:07 today.

Seemingly triggered by a switch, the clamor of the insectoid’s kin rose to even greater heights, as the news was relayed to the remaining changelings by their shared telepathic communication. Ignoring the morbid frenzy the other members of its scattered species were immersed in, the creature created a personal forum, away from the pandemonium of the main forum, and busied itself with composing a message of its own, and once having finished, transferred it into the Hive Mind.

<Request: abandoned hive “Badlands” tunnel schematic. ~ drone-Sigma-728>

Disconnecting itself from the Hive Mind, Sigma-728 returned its concentration to the physical world around it, and surveyed its browned surroundings. Noting that the blistering sun had passed its celestial apex, dying the sky orange as it neared the withered horizon, the crippled drone returned to the task at its hooves.

“-close by-”

Lifting its head, Sigma-782 paused from its efforts and turned its equine ears towards the distant voices wafting out of the rustling dead stalks.

“-is where it went! Its tracks lead this way!”

“Faster! The bug can’t be far ahead!”

The insectoid looked around, its eye widening with fear as the voices steadily grew more distinct and the swishing of the reeds became like crashing cymbals; the changeling searched for a place to hide from its pursuers, before looking down at the shallow hole by its hooves. Pale green light flickered around the shattered stump that remained of the horn that had once adorned its forehead as the drone drew upon what little energy it had left to perform the spell that formed the root word of its kind’s namesake. Engulfed in green flames, Sigma-728 changed. Where the changeling once sat now stood an unassuming brown beetle, barely bigger than the sun-stricken leaves of the tree-top now high above it. The transformed insectoid at once scurried into the dirt hole and flipped itself over, sticking its legs into the air just as the crescendo of crushed reeds reached the grassless clearing, and two armored ponies burst from the tall grass. Their golden armor glinted in the fading sunlight as the two gray stallions searched the area for their quarry, swords grasped tightly in their mouths, readied for combat. Spotting the hole in which the disguised creature laid prone, the closer of the two equines approached the shallow indent and peered inside.

“Anything?” the pony’s companion asked around the sword in his mouth. Turning away, the first equine sheathed his weapon and replied:

“Nothing, just a dead insect.”

“Well, c’mon,” the other replied, sheathing his own blade “we have a bigger bug to catch. Let’s return to the rest of the search party, it’s nearly dark,” he said, making his way back into the dry stalks. After sparing one glance back at the hole in the ground, his comrade followed him. The receding swishing from the grass announced their departure from the withered clearing, until once again the only sound in that lonely place was the gentle whispering of the dried grass to the setting sun. This dusken near-silence continued for a few minutes after, until it was broken by the soft eruption of emerald flames in the hole by the tree, from which stepped the drone, returned to its original form. Sigma-728 swept its gaze along the golden-grass wall along its dry enclosure, the chitin of its coal-black frame shaking from exerting the last of its magical reserves. Another minute passed, and with its uneasiness sated, the changeling turned back to the hole, once again half-collapsed upon the ground, and resumed its burrowing.

Hours passed, the day’s honeyed orb having long dipped past the horizon, and the night’s milky sphere having risen in its sister’s place, bringing with it starry skies that shone down upon the drone’s scuffed carapace as it delved its way further past the shriveled roots of the dessicated tree. It was an hour from midnight when the creature felt its honeycombed hoof push into the dirt at the bottom of the hole and be met with a hard surface below. Scraping the soil out of the way, Sigma-728 soon found itself facing an obsidian-esque wall. With rejuvenated efforts, Sigma-728 used its shaking appendages to chip away at the hardened surface before the bottom of the hole gave away and unceremoniously deposited the already-battered insectoid on the hard ground below. Raising itself up with quaking legs, the changeling looked up to the hole from where it had arrived, catching a glimpse of the silvery moon before it turned its attention away from the midnight sky and into the gloomy darkness of its current surroundings. Turning back and forth, the dirt-encrusted drone looked into the gloom of the tunnel it now resided in. Alerted of a response to its request by a mental echo from the hive mind, the creature reconnected to its personal forum.

<Request: RE: “Badlands” tunnel schematic in personal memory archives. Elucidate request. - drone-Zeta-233>

<Request: RE: Landed near Badlands border. Chased into the territory. Managed to escape guards by entering into local abandoned hive. Need schematic to find hive center. - drone-Sigma-728>

Its answer sent, the changeling plopped down upon the obsidian-esque tunnel floor, and, overcome with the fatigue that accompanies a day spent hunted, soon fell asleep. And, there, lying in that hazy shaft of moonlight, Sigma-728’s dreams were filled with night, flame, and thunder.