An Exercise in Inter-Universal Politics

Chrysalis, to her utter shock, awoke.

She spent a lot of time processing that fact. She woke up. Not only did that mean that her spell actually worked, it also meant that Twilight hadn't just instantly murdered her, something she would have been infinitely justified in doing. Guess the entire "kind heroine" thing wasn't just an act to ace one of Celestia's tests.

So. The first—and only—step of her brilliant plan was working. She was wherever Twilight was. So far so good, apparently. Surprising. Now she just had to pray that this plan would go the exact opposite of the last one.

Ok. So, she was alive, and she was... strapped down on a surgical bed. Figured. Maybe Twilight wasn't actually the heroine after all and she was about to be subject to some kind of horrible torture. Which, honestly, she almost certainly deserved. Not that Twilight would know that.

Speaking of not knowing: an interrogation. That's what it had to be. To be honest, she'd had a few awkward dreams about that happening to her. Mostly by Cadence or her husband, not Twilight, but she supposed it didn't really matter who did it to her. She doubted that her mother would come out in the middle of it and (rightfully) call her a whore, but it would probably mostly follow the dream otherwise. Except the sex part, of course.

Chrysalis shook her head. Or, at least, tried to. Her entire body was essentially completely immobilized. Focus!

So. Surgical bed. Straps. Some kind of strange beeping noise, which she quickly realized went in tune with her heartbeat.

Then, suddenly, light. Blinding light. Chrysalis closed her eyes, wincing in pain. Her head—oh, her head. God. She hadn't noticed before, but there was some kind of evil creature eating away at her brain. Or, at least, she felt that way. But that couldn't be true, the poor thing would have starved to death already.

"Ms. Chrysalis!"

That definitely wasn't Twilight. The voice was male, and coarse. As if rock salt could talk.

"My instruments tell me you're awake. So let's take a little look around, ok?"

Chrysalis felt her head turning. She didn't have much choice in the matter: where the straps moved, she moved. And the straps wanted her to turn her head to the left.

"Look at your arm."

Chrysalis did, squinting in the light.

Yeah. Interrogation. Definitely.

She was hooked up to some kind of tube. She heard the ponies used this sometimes. Not very often, of course, but sometimes the magical anesthetics didn't work. That thing was going directly into her bloodstream. No doubt it would soon be coursing with one of the Zebra truth potions, or some similar spell. Well, alright. She was a Changeling. She had a natural resistance to that sort of thing, even without all the trials she had to go through before becoming queen. With that experience, there was no way this stuff was going to effect her.

"I got light sensors on your horn. If it so much as flickers, I'm going to inject you with some anesthetic. Now."

She heard shuffling.

"It doesn't matter if I'm present, it's automatic. And the anesthetic I'm using is, well, pretty strong. You might come out of it retarded. I don't know how your body works. Are we clear?"

Chrysalis tried to nod, but, obviously, couldn't.

"Now, if you want to use that magic to pinch the tube or whatever, I'm going to flood the room with chlorine gas. Also automatic. And if you're not dead at the end of that I'm going to blow you straight to hell. Are we clear?"

Chrysalis tried to nod, again.

"Good."

Silence for a minute. Maybe more.

"So I'm curious. Can you talk?"

Chrysalis struggled to open her mouth.

"Yes."

"Hm," the voice muttered, seemingly confused. She heard a swallowing sound before it continued talking. "So, the leader of the enemy force, appearing in this world, alone."

"Not an enemy force," a new voice muttered. This one was a bit higher-pitched, and much louder. "We haven't declared war yet."

Chrysalis heard a buzzing noise, and all sound stopped for about a minute. She tried to take the respite to calm herself, breathing deeply. She heard a buzzing noise again.

"The leader, alone," the voice asked, mockingly. "Do you really think we didn't realize this was a trap?"

"It's—Not a trap!" Chrysalis chocked, trying to maintain composure. "I- I surrender all the remaining Changeling forces. I swear, this isn't a trap. I need—I made severe lapses in judgement, I need—"

Chrysalis took more deep breaths, trying to calm down. God dammit, why was this room so bright? She felt like she was going to melt.

"Don't give me that," the voice said. "Tell me your plan, now."

Chrysalis closed her eyes, breathing as slowly as she could manage.

"TELL ME YOUR FUCKING PLAN!"

Chrysalis gasped, trying to hold back a scream. Her eardrums felt like they were about to burst. She hadn't even realized how quiet the voice was until it got loud, and that dichotomy was causing her severe pain. She struggled to get a response out.

"I need to speak to Twilight. Only she will understand."

Chrysalis waited for the voice to speak again, listening to nothing but the sound of her own breathing and the beeping next to her. She closed her eyes against the light and tried to regain composure.

When she opened them again, the room was dark. She blinked.

"Hello?"

No response from the voice. Beside her, the machine beeped in time.

"A-Are you there? Is anybody—?"

Nothing.

"Hello?"

Silence.

Chrysalis felt something go into her arm through the tube. Her eyes widened and she tried to light her horn, ignoring the previous warnings of the voice. But no magic flowed through her. She was spent, empty. That damn spell had—

Oh, Celestia, what were they pumping into her? It wasn't truth serum. She could feel it wasn't truth serum. What was that? She hasn't—in all her training, never anything like—There wasn't much but—

But—

Chrysalis, Queen of the Changelings, fell asleep without even knowing what hit her.

* * *

Lieutenant Thom Taylor spun in his chair, away from the instruments in front of him.

"Heartbeat off the charts," he stated, monotone. "Brain activity incredibly high. Blood pressure incredibly high. Don't think I've ever seen anything more stressed."

"Hm. Easy to break," Captain Veladre muttered, scratching the side of his head. "Too easy?"

"No, sir," Taylor responded. "She was off the charts before interrogation."

Veladre turned around, facing the two idiots who were apparently in charge of this thing. "What next?"

Acone and Marshal shared a look, then shrugged.

"She wants to talk to Twilight," Acone stated. "So give her what she wants."