Fallout Equestria: Dead Hive

by Latrios

Rating: mature
Tags: Crossover, Alternate Universe, Anthro, Changelings, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Other, Adventure
Length: 19711

A Changeling Queen, choosing to stay hidden in the last two centuries since Equestria met its fate, finally leaves her hive for the sake of saving it.

Changelings have had so little reason to stray into Equestria's affairs, even more so with their war with the Zebras. They intended to remain unknown, and they did.

Even Equestria's total annihilation didn't stop them from doing what came natural: Infiltration.

Trouble is, with many less ponies to infiltrate, less work is being done. And with that, things get boring.

And being bored means you get lazy.

Even a Changeling Queen has her limits.

My first story here in FiMFiction, so i'm admittedly a little nervous about submitting it, but here it is.

Excuse the first chapter being so sloppily executed, if you like., starting is always the hardest part.

It's anthro partly because you don't see too many anthro FoE Stories, but it's also because remembering Human anatomy is a little easier than that of a pony's... for me, anyway.

It's in the third person at the beginning, but will shift between first and third depending on a specific condition being met.
No prizes for whomever figures out what that is specifically.
I hope you enjoy reading it. c:

Cover image was commissioned from Siansaar, also known as Carnifex http://siansaar.deviantart.com/

Published 2016-07-09 20:00:01 UTC
Last updated 2018-01-25 07:33:46 UTC

Chapter 1: The Dead Hive

Fallout Equestria: Dead Hive

Just a little more pressure...Just a little more.

...

Just pull the trigger.

...

Pull.

...

Pull, you stupid bug! PULL!

*click!*

...Damnit.

The Changeling Queen sighed, dropping the large revolver onto the table beside her throne once again, head in her hands.

Taller than any average pony, given her status as queen, her lithe-yet-full frame stood somewhere between 8 or 9 feet tall had she not been sitting. She was a few inches more than that if one were to count the gnarled horn that stuck upward from the top of her forehead.

Her body was covered by a long, silken dress, coloured in a seemingly oscillating pattern of oranges and light browns that seemed to endlessly melt with the badlands' ever-shifting desert sands, the edges lined with a black hue similar to the colour of her chitinous skin and the thin layer of fur that covered it from head to hoof.

A split in the fabric at one hip down to her hooves allowed the dress to flow without risk of injury should the wearer have to run and had, at times, allowed her to show a little bit of leg to political visitors whom she was trying to manipulate. What a far-gone era, those times were.

The dress was quite the fancy little piece of attire, sewn for her by a former suitor long ago as a gift, made from the finest silks he had managed to attain which certainly wasn't cheap. Her tall form had made finding long-lasting clothing that she could wear prove a challenging endeavour, so she had loved it, wearing it as often as possible. Asking her about how it lasted well over two centuries would leave inconsistent responses varying from taking good care of it to it apparently being magic silk, but to be entirely honest, she’d likely tell you she didn’t know.

It certainly lasted longer than he had... It was all she had to remember him by, even his name had faded into memory long ago, and it was always a joy when she remembered him again.

The holed hooves at the end of her legs kicked into the base of her throne, adding another fraction
of an inch into the dents in the base, long worn into the chitinous material that fused it to the floor.
Her long sandy orange hair had holes similar to that of her legs, and her bloodshot, tear-stricken eyes
were a thicker but similar shade.

Her eyes of course, were tear-stricken because she had just tried to kill herself. 'Tried' being the operative word.

The gun had been loaded, barrel pressed firmly against her temple, but the lone round inside had been old, the powder losing it’s potency and the blast cap a partially active dud, so it hadn't fired.

It was a wonder the damn thing worked at all, having somehow survived what would’ve been natural decaying of the metals.

The ornate firearm had sat in a wooden box for the better part of 200 years, only being used on one other occasion decades previously.

"My Queen?"

She looked up at the remains of her hive's throne room; to say it had seen better days was an understatement.
The corpses of both giant mutant scorpion and changeling alike were strewn about, the former greatly outnumbering
the latter, the sword and halberd-bearing defenders had fought bravely and aggressively to defend their home.
In the end however, the enormous arachnids had won, their seemingly suicidal siege of the changeling hive had
left all but two dead, the hive's queen, and a single drone, a record keeper who was currently standing at attention in the middle of the room, facing her.

The drone in question stood patiently in front of his ruler as she looked at him, his somewhat scrawny form and luck
having been all that'd saved him from joining his brothers and sisters in the forever after with their ancestors. That,
and the Queen's high-calibre revolver having narrowly spared him from the same fate as the rest of the hive by the giant pincers of a scorpion. His chitin torso remained uncovered when inside the hive, and when outside he, like the now-late members of the hive, wore a thin, loose-flowing shirt, with chitin-based plates sewn into sections around his shoulders and back to act as armour, save for his wings, and keep the sun off. His lower body was covered in a thick, skirt-like cloth covered in segmented plates from the waist-down, a split in the fabric on the front and back allowed his tail to hang free and allow him to run, if need be.

"Queen Deciduous, are you alright?"
He was polite... If not a little insensitive.
"Alright? Alright?! I just lost all but one of a hive of several hundred thousand to a horde of giant scorpions! Of
course I'm not alright!" she slammed a fist into the wooden side table, the surface of the meek little piece of furniture shattered under the force, and little but splinters remained of the top as the unattached legs and the revolver clattered to the ground. The shock from the impact managed to set off the dud blasting cap, the high-powered round throwing the pistol into the air from the recoil, shooting off and tearing through the bodies that cluttered the ground beyond the throne. One of the scorpions, evidently not quite dead, gave a shriek as the round tore one of its pincers from its body. It flailed violently for a moment, and then went still. The two of them winced as their ears rang, the heavy-duty bullets were loud, enough to wake the dead even.

Well, almost.

"The fact that you saved one should still be worth something, should it not, my Queen?" He received a glare in response.

"Don't call me that, drone! I do not deserve such a title after such losses. A hive with only one living changeling is
scarcely more than nothing at all."

"But what of yourself, my queen?"

"You saw me trying to end my life just then, did you not?" she spat. The drone nodded "the only thing that spared me from joining all those I failed is that the round in this old gift of mine failed to do its own job, much like I did. What good is a queen if she cannot defend her subjects, and is left with all but one to lead?"

The drone stared silently for a moment, his queen's eyes met with his, and then narrowed, and her fangs bared. "You know something that I don't? Explain yourself."

The drone stared yet longer, before opening his muzzle again. "Well, the drone teams you had sent around to gather info on various nearby locations hardly ever returned, but we had been receiving various, though somewhat vague, messages of their status for the last two-hundred years, remember? Given their tendency to operate outside of our hivemind's reach, it's only natural that we've had no communication with them. The first groups since the war brought news of survivors, the vast majority of which had hidden in massive numbered underground shelters...Their descendants, in the years since, have started keeping physical copies, as memorizing the all of them got tedious after a while.

“Some told of mutant infestations, the ones who went to the Flutter Valley area sent news of a pony-changeling settlement, and something about Queen Chrysalis was mentioned, but their message was worn and hard to make out, the messenger sending it had come through a sandstorm, not
much else made it through that was readable."

The somewhat less angry expression he received prompted him to continue "We were planning to show you once I had everything put together, I wasn't waiting on any further reports, but that's when the attack happened."

Queen Deciduous dared to let herself feel a little relieved at the news, she had forgotten about the number of love-collecting and recon parties she'd sent out over the years, some would send back groups to trade stations with others in a schedule of sorts, some would return entirely, usually to report limited success or complete failure, some would send messages, and some just never returned.

But so many had come and gone, and it had been months since she last had one of these compiled reports delivered to her, she had assumed all had died to the horrors of the wasteland or chosen to stay away, the badlands in which her hive was based were bad enough, but ever since the bombs fell two centuries ago, only horrors awaited outside their hive's borders, nothing pony-like had made their way to their hive's borders in a long time even before the war,
the last visitor, a mare seeking shelter from a sandstorm going by the moniker Daring Do, had given the Queen quite a number of things to talk about, and had left her the ornate pistol that was now sitting on the floor. A gift from her father, she had said, as she gave the monarch the decorated pistol, along with the wooden box it was held in, as well as a half-dozen of the oversized rounds that it fired.

She had claimed she wouldn't need it.The badlands were obviously still considered a threat to even those monstrous mutants, however, as only the scorpions dared venture into them in large numbers. Deciduous wondered if the mare had ever regretted giving the changling the old handgun. 'I guess I'll never know' she thought to herself.

"There is also some other news, your majesty" the drone piped in, interrupting her musing, and she focused on him again.

"Yes, drone?"

"I took the liberty of investigating the hatchery while you were contemplating killing yourself, given that the communication reports are also kept within' the same stretch of the hive."

Deciduous winced, her ears folding back. "To the point as always with you, and what did you find?"

"I found the reports, as they were what I was seeking, but I believe I sensed some weak movement in the hivemind as I passed the hatchery. I believe some of the unborn young may have remained buried and un-eaten by the scorpions."
The Queen's eyes widened, immediately standing from her throne. "What?! You didn't tell me this sooner?! Hurry, you fool! They won't last on their own!" With that, her horn was surrounded in the greenish-yellow hue of her magic as she teleported herself straight to the hatchery, and leaving her subject to sigh in annoyance before making his way down by hoof.

The Queen rematerialized in the hive's hatchery, her stomach wrenching at the sight of it.

Like her throne room, bodies littered the floor, changeling and arachnid alike. However, the mess here was added
to by the shattered remains of eggshells and fallen changeling nymphs, most of the bodies of which were missing
limbs. Tempering her anguish at the loss, Deciduous walked over to the pit in the centre of the chamber, where
the eggs closest to hatching were kept, which was filled with cool sand to keep the heat of the badlands from them.
Most of the many hundreds of eggs that the hive would incubate sat in specialised honeycomb-like recesses in the walls, where they would be fed a steady stream of the love energy they would need until they could be hatched from the pit. It had been found their bodies tend to adjust to the desert heat better when their first experiences of life were that of sand.

All the visible eggs on the surface of the sand pit had been smashed as the many stored within' the hatchery's walls, their insides lay spattered along the undisturbed sand...

...undisturbed sand...

Wait a moment! It looked exactly the same as the last time she had been there! That could possibly mean...

The Queen sent a simple ping through her hive-mind, one that only the living could respond to, hoping against hope that she would receive more than the one response the drone on his way down would inevitably give.
Her optimism was rewarded, right below her hooves, three weak signals were received by the ping! Deciduous immediately dropped to her knees, ignoring the still-damp moisture of the smashed egg innards as she scraped away the sand with as much combined speed and care as she could muster.

The first egg was found just below the surface, a brilliantly smooth translucent sphere little bigger than a kickball, a dark, bottle-green hue to the outter-most parts of the shell, and a dark blue-and-black core-like centre. If one were to put a light beneath the egg, they could possibly make out the faint shape of the unhatched changeling within, provided it had developed enough.

Levitating the egg into the air in front of her, the autumn-haired changeling steadily sent a stream from her large stores of love energy to the egg, feeding the unattended nymph untill she felt it give a suitably strong response for an egg so far into its incubation period, all the while keeping a close eye on the pit, and the other two eggs still beneath the sand. Keeping the first egg floating over her head, she returned to digging.

It took a few minutes of careful scraping away of the sand and gently moving those she hadn't been quick enough to save before the last two were found, both nestled closely to one-another. A motherly smile worked its way onto her face as she scooped up the two spheres in her arms, holding them close as she fed them the love energy they needed, much like she did the first.

The three eggs fed to her satisfaction, Queen Deciduous allowed herself a sigh of relief as she sat back on the hatchery floor, lowering the first egg to join the two in her arms, pressing close to her body as she could manage without risk of damaging them. Her teary eyes stung as she watched the unborn changelings, fearing that one would suddenly die right then and there. But she held her composure as best as she could, watching the nymphs within, her slit eyes taking in even the slightest movements the embryo in each one made.

Five. All that had survived out of so many thousands, was five, not two.

"Ahem, My Queen?"

She turned, spotting the drone, a folder in his hand and an assortment of supplies now hanging from his shoulders; canteens, pots, pans, small bags of crystals containing trace amounts of love energy that most scouting parties used for rations. He was packing for a journey across the badlands.

"Y-yes drone?" she half-blubbered back, trying to maintain as much of her composure as she could. She'd be lucky if she could get a hive going again with such small numbers. She'd have to start from scratch, perhaps try to find another hive or-

"Given the nature of the drone teams having likely found places to survive, if not thrive, outside the hive for the sake of love-collecting, I propose that we head to the nearest-possible team, and re-link them to the hive-mind, and from there move to each group's last-known locations. If we're lucky, we might even be within' range of some of the other groups once we find the first one."

Queen Deciduous steadily got to her hooves, the eggs remaining in her arms. Walking towards the drone, and floating the eggs to him, his own magic taking them. He stared at them a moment, seeming somewhat curious at the faintly moving forms inside them, before hovering them above his head.

"Then we shall pack supplies for the journey and then some, but leave some behind should any of the groups return here first in the meantime while we are gone. A message, as well, informing them to stay or seek us out at their own leisure,”

Opening the folder in one hand, the drone looked inside for a moment before closing it again and handing it to his Queen. She opened it, staring at the files inside, collections of messages, some old and some new. A very out of date map of Equestria covered in scribbles and markings to indicate what had changed, as well as a tally of known infiltrator groups and their encounters with the factions of the wasteland.

She looked back at the eggs, their position above the drone’s head leaving them near eye-level to her. A small smile appeared on her muzzle as she stared at them, glad for each little movement the inside of each made. “Just a few more days, at the least.”

She reached out and stroked the surface of the egg closest to her “Just a few more days, “ She trailed off, and her smile disappeared again. She crouched down to bring herself to eye level with the drone “So, what is our first destination, drone?”

"The nearest group was not far from a small village near Saddle Arabia."

“I see. Prepare one of our heat-resisting containers for carrying the eggs, and then make ready to leave by noon.” The drone nodded, turning and walking out the entrance from which he entered, the eggs floating gently behind him as he disappeared.

Watching him leave, Deciduous straightened up, taking one more look around the hatchery. “I can only hope that someday this image, this horrible and distressing image, will become no more than a bad memory... ” With that, she turned and walked out, heading for her bedchambers to prepare for her departure, and to think on the morning’s events.

Author's Note

Third Time's the charm,right?

Editing done by Echo_Off

Special thanks to KKat for creating fallout equestria.

Apologies to those who don't approve of my use of anthro in this story, humanoid anatomy is easier for me to remember, so i'm rolling with it. :3

EDIT: Made the ending a little less awkward to read.

Chapter 2: The Badlands

Chapter 2: The Badlands

Deciduous sat on the edge of her bed staring at the revolver in her hands, occasionally glancing to her side at the extra rounds gathered in a small pile on the sheets.

Her preparations for their departure completed an hour beforehand, and she had made it a primary concern to take care of her lead-spitting trinket. She took time to inspect the ornate finishes, and to remove the used and faulty rounds from the chambers.

‘Daring Do’ was engraved along one side of the barrel along with the twelve months of the year along the sides of the rotating chambers in descending order, every other month aligned with one of the bullets. What exactly was that supposed to mean? A ‘revolving year’ perhaps? Did it even mean anything at all, and did it have anything to do with Daring Do herself?

She never could quite figure out the significance of the inscriptions, nor the ‘A.K.’ on either side of the hammer. However she had figured out during her first use of it that it was heavily modified from whatever model it was in the past. The sheer stopping power of the rounds gave it an ear-piercing bang, and the recoil was powerful enough snap the wrist bones of any unsuspecting user.

The large round meant the revolver had to be in turn equally large, looking positively absurd in the hands of any normal-sized pony. It seemed to fit in her much larger hands however, because most pony-sized one-handed weaponry either looked absurd in her possession, or downright could not fit in her hands at all, requiring levitation. The only real advantage was that her strength made her more than capable of handling the otherwise-wrist-shattering force of the weapon firing.

Sighing, she re-opened the loading gate adjacent to the hammer and started putting the bullets inside. There was no possible way of her knowing which rounds would or wouldn’t fire. For all she knew, the entire weapon would explode in her hand as soon as she tried firing, but a chance at losing some fingers was nothing major to the insectile pony. She could regenerate to an extent so a loss of fingers would never be anything major, but the process was slow and agonizingly painful and could take weeks at a time, leaving her energy reserves thoroughly depleted.

“My queen, the preparations are complete and the dead have been buried... or rather, they were somewhat haphazardly pushed into the burial pits en masse to meet the noon deadline you had set.”

Queen Deciduous looked at the drone; he wore the same outfit and supplies as earlier, with the addition of extra containers of food and water. He also carried the eggs and their heat-resistant transports, each a large black cube lined with chitin and reinforced steel, behind him in his magic field. He carried a halberd in hand, standard issue for the hive’s fighting forces, and a dagger strapped to his leg, neither would last long against a foe like those who had culled the hive’s population, but something was better than nothing.

Nodding, the queen stood upright, picking up the spent and unspent casings and placing them into the wooden box. The box itself she then placed into a large pack, which she hauled over her shoulder. While it bore a small portion of supplies, its main purpose was carrying what valuables the hive had that could likely be sold.

One of the first steps she’d have to take for the sake of recovering what remained of her changelings would involve being able to arm them better than what had been available to the dead. She would need firearms and ranged weapons, not halberds and swords.

“Good, show me where they now rest, I wish to bid them and the hive a farewell before we depart.”
“As you wish, your majesty.” He turned and left, the queen following behind as the two made for the hive’s own burial chambers.

Queen Deciduous could feel a crippling weakness in her knees as she entered the chamber, what was meant to be a seemingly bottomless pit for the dead’s remains to be moved seemed distressingly small for such a high influx of bodies, the pit neared full, only a few feet from the overhang that reached out from the doorway, bodies lay crumpled and broken, not a single hint of movement to be seen. Clearing her throat and choking back her flow of tears, she spoke to her subjects one last time.

“My changelings... It is… I am... such a disgrace. For living on while the many thousands of you now lie dead. I only wish... I only wish I could’ve saved more of you. I must now leave, in the hope that I can recover those who survived this slaughter. I shall not collapse the hive, as my mother had once told me to do should it fall. I will return in future to rebuild, so I shall merely seal the entrance, only a changeling born of this hive will be able to enter or leave.”

Her eyes began to mist up, and she was straining to keep herself upright “Farewell, my Changelings, my subjects. May I rebuild the hive, or else meet you in the forever after.” Turning, she hurriedly exited the room, stumbling on her hooves in her instance on leaving as soon as possible.

------------The Badlands, one hour later------------

The Badlands hadn’t changed much since the war, didn’t change much before or during it, either. Tall monoliths stood out of the sand, slabs of rock worn away by time and sand, all a varying shade of the orange sand they stood upon. Many attempts since the pony tribe unification had been made to try colonise the Badlands. Many had failed before they could even start, with the would-be-town-founder killed by creatures that inhabited the seemingly-endless desert.

Keeping watch as his queen finished sealing the hive, an effort that apparently required more effort than the queen made it sound, the drone eyed the sands of the badlands around him, keeping his eyes open and ears swivelling for signs of movement from the sand that could indicate a potential living threat. All he got in response to his wariness, however, was the blowing sand. And he found himself constantly tilting his head to one side to empty his ears of sand-buildup caused by the wind. Eventually, Deciduous emerged from the pit leading to the hive’s entrance. Which now looked little more than a slab of stone sunken into the ground, seemingly ignored by the desert winds.

“Alright drone, now is time for us to go. We must head north at once, and find somewhere suitable to make camp for when the sun sets.” She received a look of confusion from the drone.
“North, my queen? But Saddle Arabia and, by extension, the town we’re after is to the east, across the Celestial Sea, no less.”

His question was seemingly ignored as his queen started walking, prompting the drone to force himself into a short,quick jog in order to join her. The equipment he carried did not agree with being put off balance as he moved and he stumbled a few times to catch up with her. “My queen! I need to know why we are heading north instead of east!” He received an annoyed sigh in response, the queen’s pace slowing.

“Drone, I had expected you to have figured out my reasoning yourself, given that you have had much more time with the map than I. With what we have, we could not even hope to make that direct a route. Come here and let us inspect the map, that I may show you what I mean.” Retrieving the map from one of his many packs, the drone held it out whilst walking alongside his queen.

“See here,” She pointed at the section marked ‘Badlands’ “As the badlands sits in what is effectively a giant basin, the high cliffs surround us on all sides, leaving the only non-flying way out these single roads to the north and south. This is where ponies dug their own way in, using long, sloped paths to descend.”

“I know that, my queen! But why don’t we just fly?” He received silence in response, prompting him to look up at the growing scowl on her face, shrinking back as she focused from the map to him.

“I had assumed, incorrectly, I see, that it would be obvious, but if I must explain yet again, I shall; The eggs you carry. They are the potential future of the hive, and as such their survival is of the highest importance. Even above yours. The eggs and the equipment we carry will make surpassing the cliffs to the east, which I might add are the tallest in the badlands basin, incredibly difficult, if not impossible.

“In addition, we would have to pass through the swamplands beyond that, and we’d then be met by one of the widest parts of the Celestial Sea. We’d have to then navigate the shoreline to the thinnest possible crossing further to the north.

“Moving north from the get-go means that we’ll not have to scale the cliffs and, provided fortune has had enough of screwing me over, Dodge Junction’s many railways will have a clear line leading straight to Baltimare. The peninsula of Horseshoe Bay will give us the shortest journey across the sea.”

After a pause, she continued “The only other route would involve having to pass the cities and mountain ranges yet further north.”
The drone stared at the map for the longest time, and sighed, looking back at his queen “You are correct my queen. I apologise.” Returning his attention to the map, the drone walked on. Various spots on the map had been scribbled out, a green line moving to a circle nearby to account for errors fixed in more modern maps. Thick, straight black lines were strung out between the cities, new railway lines, and a large filled-in red circle was drawn around the general area of southern Equestria, marked ‘Hoofington?’. It was scribbled out, replaced with ‘Unknown radiation source. Cripples hivemind. Lethal. Avoid at ALL costs’.

Going there was clearly out of the question. He inspected the badlands section of the map further, nothing the thin, dark line of leading through the center of the location. A path, clearly. “If I am to guess correctly, this pathway in the middle here is where we’re headed?” He pointed to the line in question. It weaved its way through the Badlands, leading to either the north and South entrances.

“Well surmised, drone. That path, provided that it has not faded further with time, is covered in heavily packed sand. It will lead us to our exit in the least amount of gallivanting around in the sand. Barring sandstorms and the like, that is. But enough of this slow, ‘shuffling-along-whilst-reading-a-map’ pace, put it away and we shall begin our journey proper.” With a sway of her hips as she lengthened her stride to a proper walking pace, the queen began the trek north, the drone following close behind.

*** *** ***

Another six or so uneventful hours passed as the two made their way along the orange sand. On the way they found the trail, a large mass of packed-together sand and large stones stretched into the horizon to the north and south. At this point the travelers had begun to run low on what energy they had, the queen wiped the sweat from her brow and eyed the drone alongside her as he occasionally stumbled on the rocks littering the path, the odd gasp for breath escaping his muzzle. Though any attempts to inquire if he was alright were met by shrugs and replies of ‘I’m fine’ He clearly wasn’t

To the west, the glow of the setting sun was turning the sky a vivid shade of red. The queen mused to herself as the sun disappeared behind the horizon ‘It’s getting dark. The wind’s been picking up, too' “We’d best find shelter to rest for the night, drone.” An annoyed and somewhat strained, but relieved, groan responded back.

Up ahead, the two saw the remains of one of the many attempts to set up a life in the badlands, a small line of buildings. Stores, perhaps. Some such places, past attempts by the ponies to colonise the badlands, still lingered even long after their creators passed. Little more than ghost towns remained, buried or dismantled beneath the shifting sands, preserved. These ones seemed fairly recent; not all of the buildings had collapsed, and a couple still had glass in their windows. Built just before the megaspells hit, most likely.

Four buildings in all, neatly sitting next to each other in various states of disrepair, only the two-storey building in the center seemed to have its walls and doors mostly undamaged. Shielded from the sides on the ground floor by the other buildings. How the front hadn’t been battered to pieces was anyone’s guess. The lack of sand piling up on the windows seemed to indicate either the back wall had stayed intact. Or it had fallen and another wall was blocking it further. A sign above the door, partially faded from age and the sandy winds, read: ‘Lon… Star’s... eneral sto… an… Robro… eplicas Museum’

Deciduous pointed to it, about to speak when she spotted something in the distance far behind the structures, a dust cloud. A very large dust cloud. No, not a dust cloud... a sandstorm! And it was closing in fast.
How had she not seen that before?! The wind had been picking up for the last hour, how could she have not noticed?! “Quickly, drone, get inside!”

......

the lack of immediate response forced her to tear her eyes from the encroaching wall of sand to notice the drone’s unconscious form on the sandy road just behind her. He had passed out.

“Argh! Damn you, you stupid drone! Why couldn’t you have collapsed after we got to shelter!?” Rushing to his side and turning him onto his back using her magic to lift many of the packs off of him and into the air. She hooked her arms under his shoulders and proceeded to drag him to the door. She leant against it, removing a hand from the drone to turn the knob, it wouldn’t budge, the door’s lock clattering against the frame.

“I do not have time for this!” Pulling her pistol from her pack and pulling the hammer back with her thumb, she shoved the barrel into the keyhole and fired. The door slammed inwards as the force all but tore the lock from the door.

The storm slammed into the rear walls as she dragged the drone inside, the sand wailing as it plowed through the thin spaces between the buildings. the entire structure groaned in protest, but held. Sighing in relief, Deciduous went about propping up the unconscious changeling against wall, and set about barricading the door to keep it closed.

*** *** ***

The drone wasn’t quite sure of how much time had passed, but when he did crack open one of his eyes, he was only a little surprised to find his vision wasn’t obscured by sand. The whistling of the sandstorm echoed through the empty building, The boards on the walls creaking and groaning. It left an eerie sensation. Though it was being drowned out by the fire sitting in front of him.

The boards on the floor had been torn up, leaving a large vaguely-ring-shaped hole of sand in the middle of the room. The fire within crackled and sparked, another board of the dismantled floor was levitated into the flame, sliding into place under the pot floating gently above it. He attempted to talk, only managing a single quiet ‘muh-’ before it erupted into a coughing fit.

He could remember seeing the buildings close by, and his queen talking to him about... something? And then he’d passed out. Too much weight on his back? Exhaustion? Heatstroke? He decided dwelling on what felled him was pointless, he had let his queen down by doing so. Speaking of his queen, where was she? And what was he leaning against?

“Awake, are we?” The sudden voice had caught him off-guard and made him jump, but his exhaustion prevented him from doing much more than a short spasm. He felt a pair of arms wrap around his torso, holding him still. Opening his other eye showed nothing but the warm, silky surface of a dress. He allowed himself to look up, seeing his queen and the calm, relieved smile on her muzzle. He felt his ear brushing against the her chest, her heartbeat a steady, pleasant pulse. He managed a slow nod, content to otherwise remain still. A few minutes passed in relative silence before he decided to attempt moving again, but the arms around him squeezed a little tighter.

“Rest easy, my little changeling, we are in no immediate danger. The storm will pass, and by morning, we should be able to continue onward.” he felt one of her hands move up and stroke the crest running along his scalp, a thumb brushing over an ear.
‘My little changeling’ she almost never called her subjects that. It was always ‘drone’ this or ‘worker’ that. He had heard of such behaviors from her before from other hive-members. Though from what he’d heard, it was usually reserved for the newly-hatched nymphs.

“My queen... forgive me... ” He rasped, his throat dry and voice croaky. He felt the lip of one of the water containers lightly pushed against the edge of his muzzle, prompting him to drink. He heard a soft giggle from his queen. “Always so dramatic, aren’t you? You aren’t dying.”
She stroked him again, pulling the receptacle from his lips as she spoke. “Hush now, my little changeling, you are in need of rest, but by no means was your little fall mortally wounding. I am, however, disappointed in your refusal to accept my help when it was offered, I am by no means treating this as a failure, though.”

Pulling the pot from the fire, Deciduous probed around the drone’s packs for utensils, finding none, and settling on using her magic to instead levitate a large -and somewhat charred- wad of meat out of the pot, splitting it into chunks and offering a piece to the drone. “I’m not the best cook, but I tried my best. Have a bite, it should at least be edible.”

He screwed up his face at it, his horn flickered as his magic petered out. He gave a whimper, his collapse had taken more of a toll on him than he realised. He simply didn’t have the energy to use his magic properly. He allowed her to place it into his mouth, but he quickly reopened it, holding his tongue out and panting loudly in an effort to let the unbelievably hot food cool. From what he could taste past the burnt charcoal-y outside, it wasn’t too bad. Though he stole a few glances of his queen scrunching her own face up at the taste. If any of the other drones or workers had seen him getting fed and held like a newly-hatched nymph, he’d never hear the end of it. Though at least he knew that the queen wasn’t oblivious to her terrible cooking.

He swallowed, and took another gulp of water. He was content to doze off again, until Deciduous spoke up. “I want you to understand that, as the last living changeling in my hive, I cannot afford to treat every action of yours with the scrutiny of an army general or the leader of an empire. As your queen, forgiving mistakes is my job. You are children and subjects both, in my eyes. Next time however, should you be struggling to carry the supplies you’ve given yourself to carry, you must let me know. Is that understood?”

He nodded, and she continued, “One thing I’ve learnt over the years i’ve lived is that a mother’s love for her children is one of the strongest bonds there is. Losing you as I did the rest of the hive would surely destroy me. Who would take care of the eggs then?” The drone thought about it, but wasn’t sure if his queen was actually expecting an answer. He opened his mouth to respond, but found himself shushed again by a finger pressed against his lips. “No talking, my little changeling, just rest.” A rhetorical question, then.

The two were silent for another half-hour, the drone taking the time to look around the inside of the building. It appeared to be a store, that at least solved what part of the sign on the front of the building was on about.
Deciduous was sitting on the floor, leaning firmly against what appeared to be a bench or a bar, judging by the wooden overhang. The drone himself was lying on top of her, propped up against her torso.

Shelves lined the walls, decorated with empty jars and rusted scrap metal. Broken light fixtures hung from the ceiling, bulbs either broken or missing. And a staircase in the corner, leading upwards to the second floor. A sign was posted on the wall the staircase ran along, exclaiming ‘Robronco replicas Museum’. What on Equus was a ‘Robronco’ again? Some cyborg stallion who hadn’t figured out how to use the toilet?

His thoughts and visual wanderings were suddenly interrupted when Deciduous sighed as she swallowed a hefty gulp of water, and took a deep breath. Staring at the the glow of the fire dance in the door’s warped glass window, a faint tune humming in her breath. And then she began to sing...

”The cold hands,
The sad eyes,
The dark foalish silence.
It’s so late,
But I wait,
Through the long night with you,
With you.

The warm tears,
The bad dreams,
The soft, trembling shoulders.
The old fears,
But I’m here,
Through the long night with you,
With you.

Remaining soft as she hummed the tune, she continued. Her voice picked up pace.

Oh, what has it cost you?
I almost lost you a long, long time ago,
Oh, you should have told me,
But you, had to bleed to know.

As quickly as it had picked up, the tempo dropped again, almost immediately starting the next verse.

All your past sins,
Have since passed,
You should be sleeping,
It’s all right,
Sleep tight,
Through the long night with me,
With me.

Once again the tune and pace picked up for another change, only to drop down once more as it did before.

No, I didn’t start it,
You’re broken hearted from a long, long time ago,
Oh, the way you hold me,
Is all that I need to know.

It’s so late,
But I’ll wait,
Through the long night with you,
With you.

She let the last word hang, quietly moving back into a hum, and finishing the tune.
Deciduous moved her vision from the fire’s reflection as she finished the last verse, looking down at the drone and smiled. He was snoring quietly. Likely slipped into sleep while she sang, or possibly just before she looked down. It wasn’t important to her either way what he had thought of her little performance. Just that he was asleep was good enough for the queen. She leant her head down and nuzzled his ear. “Sleep well, my little changeling. the night shall be long, but I am here should you need me.”

*** *** ***

The drone was still sleeping when his queen awoke the next morning, the dawn’s sunlight steadily creeping through the store’s windows, only just reaching the firepit. She had kept him as comfortable as she could manage, given the circumstances. Watching over him as he slept against her, It brought a feeling of comfort to the changeling monarch. It was one she always relished whenever she experienced it.

She, she always had seen her changeling subjects from above due to her naturally large height. None ever grew taller than the average pony, leaving the queen effectively towering over all of them. It reinforced her little self-indulged perspective of seeing her drones as her children. Very few were actually hers children though. Though it certainly left a rather... off... feeling in the back of her mind whenever she took on a consort.

Shaking the odd thoughts from her head, Deciduous chose to let the drone rest rather than wake him. Gently holding him in place with her magic while she stood up, moving him to lean him against the bench she’d been leaning on. She opted to investigate the rest of the building, perusing through the sparsely occupied shelves. The only thing she found of note that she couldn’t see from the floor was a bottlecap, which she unceremoniously tossed into the corner, deciding it to be of little use to her.

The first floor proved to be otherwise void of anything useful, perhaps the second floor would yield better results? Eyeing the sign, she wasn’t any more certain what Robronco was than the drone. Save for it being a pony-owned company. Not that it mattered, it certainly wasn’t stopping her. She began her ascent.
The stairs not collapsing under her body’s imposing size was a good start, though she had to fight with her dress to not catch on the splintery wood. Keeping the thing intact for over 250 years only to have it torn on an old set of stairs would just be embarrassing.

Unlike the front door, the second floor’s had been unlocked. Inside was an assortment of glass cases on pedestals running along the walls, each marked with a plaque. ‘Pip-Bucks Through the Ages’ hung on the wall. There was a stand for something in the center of the room, but it was empty, gone long before the changelings had found the building. Against the far wall, a big metallic box, with a keyboard and green, flickering screen attached, buzzed quietly. How was it running without power? Internal source perhaps? But how had it lasted so long?

Choosing to inspect the cases first, Deciduous began walking along the edge of the room. Stopping to inspect the item within each, and then read the inscriptions about each.
The first was a massive, clunky thing almost the size of the terminal. Wires and cables twisted and wrapped around it, and a small screen with a massive crack running through it, a piece of paper tucked neatly behind the fractured glass read ‘Pip-Buck ver. 1.0’. her eyes moving to the inscription below the absurdly oversized… Thing.

‘The first Pip-buck!

This replica shows us Robronco’s first fully functional portable computing system. While incredibly large and ungainly, and partially running on increasingly expensive coal, the one-point-oh was portable… For about thirty minutes maximum at a time to avoid dislocation of the arm.’

Chuckling to herself at the mental image of a pony anchored down by such a massive chunk of scrap metal and a dislocated arm brought a smile to her muzzle. Deciduous casually walked to the next item along the wall.
The next device was considerably smaller, but still far too large for anyone to really consider wearing such a thing. It looked like a bulky piece of armour, but with a screen on one side, and it kept the first version’s messy assortment of wires and cables. The paper behind the screen read ‘Pip-Buck ver 2.3’

‘A replica of the first, last, and only model of the offical built-in armour Prototype!’

‘2.3 was a brief attempt at fitting the Pip-buck into what was at the time prototype pegasus combat armour. The prototype was abandoned, however, with the unveiling of Steel Ranger Power Armour, and the project was dropped in favour of designing power armour prototypes for the Pegasi.’

Nothing too interesting here, a piece of scrap metal with a screen. Even if it was functional, it wouldn’t fit her. She skimmed over the next ones on the list, eventually stopping on a pair that shared the same case. Much more portable-looking than the original models, sleeker, smaller, and only fourth from the end of the ‘Pip-bucks through the ages’ section.

The device on the left seemed average compared to the Pip-buck 3000 further along the exhibit. Albeit minus some particular flashy lights. The one on the right, presumably the MkII-L, was slightly larger, but it looked like it was supposed to be that size, like it could fit someone like her!

Pip-Buck 2000 and 2000 Mk. II-L Prototype!’

‘The Pip-buck 2000 revolutionised how Robronco made their portable technology, incorporating rust-proofing, heavy durability and enhanced versions of SATS. As well as increasing screen size and adding backlighting. The future model 3000 surpasses it in every way, but it’s nice to see what had changed between the two.’

‘The 2000 MkII-L, on the other hand, isn’t quite there. Based off of the 2000, It was originally presented to the princess as a version designed to fit her form, but was rejected. This prototype was mostly a proof-of-concept, as the very recent 3000’s one-size-fits-all capability made it obsolete. It was just easier to base the prototype off of the 2000 as opposed to the well-rounded 3000. Though there’s no official records of her having purchased or acquired one anyway.
The L’s version of SATS, while capable of longer duration and mass target acquisition, suffers from the spell having lost some of its potency. It was also found that, because of the Pip-buck’s increased size allows for a higher-powered lamp, multiple interface jacks and a more precise Eyes Forward Sparkle, it had frequent power-fluctuations. As a result, it requires regular rebooting. It was also unable to incorporate most pip-buck’s specialised locking system, and is instead held in place with an assortment of small magnets and a damage-resistant latch.

This is the only one in existence, and is fully functional. Do not attempt to steal it, it won’t fit your arm, and will be traced.’

“Huh... Well this is a no-brainer.” Deciduous mused to herself with a shrug. She retrieved her revolver and casually smashed the glass case open with the butt of the handle. Picking out the Pip-buck from within, she turned it over in her hand, eyeing it. It… Seemed okay? How did one gauge the suitability of a Pip-Buck? And did she actually care? Not particularly, no.
Fitting it to her wrist, she was surprised to find it quite a snug fit. Closing the latch and firmly anchoring it in place, she found the switch marked ‘Power’ and pressed it. A flash occupied her vision, a sudden jolt going through her brain, and she passed out.

---__(1st Person)__---

When I opened my eyes again, I was staring at the ceiling. In the corners of my vision however, I could see words appearing. A bright amber-yellow silhouette of an alicorn appeared in the top-right corner of my vision, but I couldn’t follow it with my eyes, as it kept moving no matter how I shifted my eyes. It was broken into segments with lines pointing to my limbs and torso, all marked ‘OK’, though strangely enough, the wings portion of it was marked ‘???’.

More text flooded my vision;

Pip-buck 2000, Mark II-L - Initialising...
Initialising SATS Ver. 0.7 - Complete
Initialising Inventory Management system - Complete
Initialising Body Condition Monitoring - Complete
User Compatibility Error; Wing Type; Unknown...
User Compatibility Error; Subject pony type; Unknown...
Unknown user detected - Alerting authorities, please wait...
Authorities unreachable at this time, sending ping...
Emergency Ping software not found...
Adjusting compatibility to suit new user...

Error; Power source status; Insufficient…
Error; Pipbuck software out of date! Please update…
No compatible update software found...
Cancelling future update check…
Eyes Forward Sparkle now initialising…
Munitions Level Monitoring - Activated
Medical Supplies Monitoring - Activated
Magic Levels Monitoring - Activated
Alert; Magic levels above normal threshold...
Seek medical attention if this is not normal...

Initialisation complete...

Have a very safe day.

An amber-yellow pony appeared over the text, giving a thumbs-up and a wink before vanishing.
Blinking as the text disappeared, I stared at the ceiling a little longer, expecting something else to pop up in my vision. When nothing else happened, I sat up, looking around. This display - Eyes Forward Sparkle, I believe it was called- also gave an indicator near the bottom of my sight. Showing the cardinal directions, as well as a hollow, yellow blip moving around. It neared the door, and I was preparing to reach for the revolver when the blip revealed itself to belong to the drone.

“My queen! Are you alright? I heard the glass shatter and a sound like something hitting the floor. You weren’t responding in the hive-mind, what happened? I feared you dead, or worse... ” His voice trailed out as I waved him off, getting to my hooves and looking at the Pipbuck latched onto my wrist. “I’m fine, drone. Just an... an incident with this... thing. I am unharmed. I think.”

Turning my attention back to the room, I had to wonder what a place like this was even doing way out here. Why did the pony who owned this place think anyone would come out here in search of a museum? The entire idea made my head hurt, so I opted to instead avoid possibly damaging my brain further trying to make sense of this, and check out the terminal by the wall.

The metallic box mystified me to no end; How did they get the text to appear on the screen? How did the keyboard transfer letters to said screen? Why didn’t I consider these questions with the pipbuck? Shaking my head to rid my mind of such unanswerable queries, I focused on the text on the screen.

Robronco Terminal; version 1.0

In a vain attempt to win against Stable-Tec’s revolutionary design, Robronco created these terminals in a bid to outclass the superior company via having all of their terminals contain a basic ‘cheat sheet’ program on how to hack through Stable-Tec Security.
For the sake of the museum, we have left this program intact and locked out all other access, if you can crack the code at the most secure encryption level, you could win a prize.

A prize? Hmm, if it’s still there, or if it was even there at all, it could be worth something. I glanced at the keyboard, not quite sure what I was supposed to press. Choosing to smash my fist on the keyboard and see what happened, the screen gave an affirmative-sounding *plink!* the screen changed, coming up with an assortment of words and jumbled characters. Alright... this should be easy...

Seventeen tries later, I wasn’t so sure as I smashed my fists against the top of the infernal machine. Why wouldn’t this hunk of metal tell me its secrets?! A polite cough from behind got my attention, turning to face the drone as he chewed idly on a piece of dried meat. My queen... He messaged through the hivemind If I may take a look on your behalf? Perhaps I can solve this problem.

I stared at him a moment. Then back to the screen, and then back to him. With a sigh, I relented, backing away from the terminal and allowing him to try his luck. There was no way he was going to-

He got it on the first guess. The screen flashed bright green before moving to a more complex set of passwords

Ah yes, I thought so. The password was Robronco, my queen.

After shutting my dropped jaw in surprise, I have a pseudo-confident smirk “I see, well if you could beat such a difficult challenge so easily, perhaps we’ll only have another one before we get this supposed prize.”

I’m afraid not, my queen. That one was on the easiest encryption difficulty, there were only four options. Laughably easy even. He shut up almost immediately after seeing my frustrated glare. The easiest difficulty, surely not. I wasn’t that bad with technology, was I?

Was I?

Notes:

Pipbuck acquired!

Determining party stats and perks, please wait…

Queen Deciduous (Level up! - Level 3)

Trait: Seasoned Veteran - Your long lifespan has allowed you to learn many things over the years, all SPECIAL Stats are permanently increased by 2. However, your skills suffer from much of this experience now being outdated, and adapting to what has changed takes twice as long as it would any normal pony or changeling.

Trait: Changeling Queen - Your unique appearance, height and body composition makes you stand out in a crowd, inciting both fear and suspicion… and granting a natural +1 to Strength. Your chitinous body gives you +2 DT.

‘New’ Spell: Disguise - As a changeling queen, you have the ability to shift your body’s appearance, height, weight, and voice with ease. Except for flying. Buzz Buzz.

Trait: Catastrophic Loss - The loss of your hive has left you in massive distress, you suffer a -2 to Endurance, Charisma and Agility. This trait’s effects will fade over time.

Trait: Technological Incompetence - You’re so bad with electronics, you could probably make an ice machine catch fire given the chance. You suffer a massive -75 to the Science skill, and it can never go above 25... Ever!

Changeling Drone (name taken - proposing name-change) (Level up! Level 2)

Trait: Follow the Leader! - In groups, you are strong! You gain a +1 to all SPECIAL stats when within command radius of a Queen. And +2 to all skills with every other changeling drone present. This effect stacks, but not against other changelings.

Author's Note

This chapter has yet to be fully edited by my Editor, Echo_Off, as he dares to have this thing to call a life and not spend every waking moment checking the spelling, punctuation, grammar and story flow of a crummy little piece of fanfiction. I'm not being serious about that, of course. I shall update this once his editing of it is complete.

The song Deciduous sings is Billy Joel's 'Through the Long Night' with one word changed for the sake if it not making sense otherwise.

Thanks ot Kkat for making Fo:E, and all that stuff :3

Chapter 3: Barricade

Chapter 3: Barricade

Sand, sand, and yet more sand.

By the maker, how I hated sand…

The five or so hours of walking through it after leaving the strangely-placed museum didn’t help my opinion of it much, either. The noon winds sent coarse walls of orange into my face, tangling it with my hair and leaving blockages in the holes of my hooves, leaving a yet-more irritating itching sensation.

I found that fiddling -for lack of a better term- with my new pip-buck was a good way to ignore its grainy presence. Messing with the dials and buttons taught me how to select the menus on the screen… And how to cause the device to freeze, forcing me to reboot it. It even showed to contents of my inventory. How did it do that? I recall the vision-obscuring text earlier mentioning ‘inventory monitoring or something of the sort... but how, though? One interesting thing I learnt however, was that my revolver was called The Yearling. It felt like the name should’ve been more significant than I felt it was.

Glancing up from my new wrist-bound equipment, I could see the walls of the badlands basin rising in the distance, a faint column of darkness the path led towards seemed to indicate the passage into outer Equestria was still intact... or maybe it had collapsed just inside where I couldn’t see it from this far away. I couldn’t really be sure, my drones had habitually avoided the area to begin with, choosing instead to fly over the walls to minimise pony contact outside of intended observation areas.

I, meanwhile, had spent nearly every day since the war underground in the hive. Save for occasionally stepping outside to stop my body’s excess chitin from dying off at a lack of any need to shield my body (Which, after a certain point, would cause it to start turning pale, drying up, and falling apart). It needed to protect me from something, it may as well have been the heat. Though intense sunlight was evidently not a substitute for radscorpion pincers.

Eventually, I found the ‘Radio’ section of the pip-buck’s interfaces, most of them were listed as ‘unknown signal’, most of those and a few of the others (which were listed simply by frequency numbers which I couldn’t comprehend) were out of range.

Shrugging and selecting one of the available signals, the sound of a guitar strummed suddenly out of the device’s speaker. It was partnered with a steady drum beat and a cheerful whistling tune, a trio of backing singers ‘ooh’d a tune not dissimilar to that of the whistler. I turned my head and glanced at the drone as he turned in response to the sudden sound, the two of us sharing a look with one-another.

I was glad that he didn’t seem to be struggling with the reduced weight he was now carrying. He then moved his attention to the device as the whistling stopped, the brief pause in vocals was quickly filled by the voice of a stallion singing, the backing vocalists sang along with him.

‘Heartaches by the number,
Troubles by the score,
Every day You love me less,
Each day I love you more,
Yes, I’ve got heartaches by the number,
A love that I can’t win,
But the day that I stop counting,
That’s the day my world will end.’

This rather out-of-nowhere number was surprisingly catchy, the chorus was cheerful despite the implications of the lyrics, I hadn’t even noticed I was swaying my hips to the rhythm with every step I took. The backers returned to their oohs and hmms as the lead stallion sang.

‘Heartache number one was when you left me,
I never knew that I could hurt this way,
And heartache number two was when you came back again,
You came back but never meant to stay.’

The chorus again, the trio returning to sing along. I found myself humming to the words, the drone joining in as I let my tail swish back and forth with my hips.

‘Yes, I’ve got heartaches by the number,
Troubles by score,
Every day you love me less,
Each day I love you more,
Yes, I’ve got heartaches by the number,
A love that I can’t win,
But the day that I stop countin’
That’s the day my world will end!’

A cheery whistling solo followed, much like the one at the beginning of the song. The ease of which its sound and rhythm managed to drag me along was borderline terrifying, yet I felt powerless to resist it. Was this feeling what happened whenever the ponies broke out into song, as I was told they did before the war?
If it was, how had I not encountered it before? I’ve had seven hundred years or so, yet never had such things happen when near me before. Maybe my radio was cursed or something? Or maybe this was simply my first time actually noticing it? I had sung just the night before, Maybe it was a pony thing? It’d probably be best to just go with it being a pony thing, at least for now. The less thought about spontaneously bursting into song and dance, the better.

‘Heartache number three was when you called me,
And said that you were coming back to stay,
With hopeful heart I waited for your knock on the door,
I waited but you must have lost your way.’

One last time the chorus came and before I realised what I was doing, I found myself singing along. The drone hummed to the tune, letting his path zigzag as he streamed along behind me, following the swish of my tail like a wave.

“Yes I’ve got heartaches by the number,
Troubles by the score,
Ev’ry day you love me less,
Each day I love you more,
Yes, I’ve got heartaches by the number,
A love that I can’t win,
But the day that I stop countin’,
That’s the daay my woorrllld will eennnndd!”

The second the song finished, I mashed every option on the pip-buck I could see. Silencing the accursed thing before it could steal me into another lyrical hallucination with a *click*, I gave a relieved sigh. The surge of emotions that had gone through my mind as I sang along had felt fantastic, But still alien to me. It was as though I wasn’t in direct control of my body. It was probably best I avoid the radio for now... and probably for a good, long while after that.

The steep walls of the basin were close now, and it was clear the incline exiting it had not, in fact, collapsed. Though it seemed that ponies had, at some point or another, built a massive wooden wall near the top of the incline. Like a security gate of sorts. It couldn’t have been used for the radscorpions, they could just burrow under it, so it must’ve been to stop ponies... or changelings, perhaps.
My pip-buck gave a *beep* as we approached it, automatically switching to a map screen and marking the location as ‘Barricade’. Was that the name of the place or a statement of the obvious? Also, since when did this thing have a map?!

As we closed on the wall, the sun hidden behind the walls of the basin incline, closer inspection revealed the obstruction to be made of massive, ancient tree trunks. Bound tightly together with rope and chains, each as wide as I was tall, and shaved of all their branches with the tops sheared down to long spikes. Seemed more like a fortress wall than a barricade, at least from this side. For all I knew, It could’ve been a junkyard or a toxic waste dump on the opposite end.

Inspecting closer still lead me to a hole in one of the trunks, a doorway carved out of the ancient timber, and a solid iron door with a closed view-slit at eye-level (at regular-pony-height-eye-level, anyway) and another just below it. I figured there couldn’t be much harm in knocking, though I elected to drone to do so in my stead. I couldn’t be too careful, after all.
Walking up to the door, he brought the side of his fist down on the metal, each impact causing it to rattle and groan against its hinges.

*THUD. THUD. THUD.*

“Calm yer’ ass out there, I’m comin’” an elderly-sounding stallion’s voice echoed from behind the door. With a click, the door’s view slits slid open to reveal a pair of worn eyes and the barrel of a double-barrelled shotgun. The eyes gave a confused look when they saw the drone. However upon seeing me, they widened in horror. "ALICORN!” He suddenly bellowed.
Alicorn? What? I was confused, did he mean like the princesses or something? The hive’s gathered observer information mentioned nothing about- *BANG!*

My ears rang as I felt myself pushed backwards from a sharp splintered impact to my torso, though I retained my balance. While I had been zoned out and wondering what was going on, the old stallion had fired. The drone had dodged out of the way, but the searing pain in my stomach not unlike that of hot pokers made it clear he wasn’t aiming for him. I looked down at the greenish-yellow blood oozing around my stomach and staining my outfit, slowly flowing down my torso.
“Awwww…” I muttered, tasting blood leaking from the corners of my mouth “...That was my favourite dress…” I staggered forward a step, clutching at the wound, and suddenly found my vision spinning vertically. That was how spinning vision worked right? I’d never actually- Oh right, I’m on an incline, that’s just me falling over backwa-*Thud!* Ow.
“My queen!”

The back of my head stung, having collided with the sack of valuables I’d been hauling over my shoulder as it hit the ground. The ringing in my ears soon faded, though my hearing remained somewhat muffled. As I stared at the sky and high walls of the incline, my vision began to blur. I coughed in an attempt to flush out the blood pooling at the back of my throat, when this did little but splatter blood on my face, I moved my head to the side, letting it flow out onto the ground, trying to breathe.

I spotted the black, holed hoof of the drone entering my vision, and heard muffled yelling as he crouched down. I felt his hands grip my jaw and point my face to him. I was mostly staring into space at this point, surely the fool realised that what he was doing was not helping in the slightest.

Without my jaw to the side, I could feel the blood pooling up in my throat again, and let out a choked cough. What little focus I had that wasn’t towards panicking about drowning in my own blood was eyeing my Eyes Forward Sparkle. The alicorn in the corner of my vision had appeared, the torso segment flashing, the ‘OK’ had been replaced with text rapidly flashing between ‘CRIPPLED’ and ‘Bleeding!’, and a droplet icon flashing next to it.

‘Huh’, I couldn’t help thinking as my vision darkened, ‘So that’s what being shot feels like… Probably should’ve worn a disguise…you stupid bug... ’

_-_-_-_ _-_-_-_ _-_-_-_

“So... Daring Do, is it? Can’t say that’s the most original name I’ve ever heard”

“Says the one whose name is the term for a tree that loses its leaves in winter”

“Touché. I’ll give you that one.”

“Still, I appreciate your insistence on letting me weather this sandstorm from inside your hive.”

“It is quite alright, I assure you. We may not go actively searching for explorers in the badlands, but we help those we can. Though I must insist you keep our location and existence secret. There will always be those who will attempt to seek us out for their own gain.”

“Thank you. You have my promise, Queen Deciduous.”

“Please just call me Deciduous, Miss Do. My mother passed away but a week ago. I was awaiting confirmation from my sister Evergreen as to whether she should choose to come back and rule the hive as is her right as the eldest. Her lack of response forces me to assume she is either unreachable or dead. So I have taken up the mantle. Though I must commend you on your knowledge of changeling hierarchy.”

“That’s fine, I guess. Though doesn’t that seem a bit presumptuous? To assume she’s dead, I mean?”

“Quiet, you… I made good on my efforts to locate her and was met with few results. Now, come and join us in the main chamber, I’m sure the young would love to hear your tales of adventure. It’ll be a good way to pass the time whilst the storm rages.”

“Hmm, have you got drinks?”

“Of course! Vintages fit for a Queen! Haha!”

“Then I would be honored...”

-_-_-_- -_-_-_- -_-_-_-

I opened my eyes slowly, still in a daze. I had no idea where I was, or how much time had passed. The wooden ceiling above me indicated I was indoors, but that was about all I could gather from looking straight up. The feeling of blood in my throat had gone, now replaced with dryness and the faint metallic taste of iron. Turning my head to the side, letting my vision clear and groaning at the stiffness of my neck, I got a good view of… a dark brown wooden wall … Huh. Turning it the other way, however, I got a better view of the room I was now in.
I spotted the drone in a chair, hunched over the side of the makeshift bed I now found myself in, his face planted firmly in his crossed arms, sleeping.
Smiling and returning my attention to the rest of the room. The walls bore a hideous shade of brown, it was a surprisingly stark contrast to the dusty and worn walls of that museum in the badlands. The walls here looked like they had been steadily rotting over the years, having become almost fluffy-looking with how much it had swelled and splintered with age.
I saw jars sitting on shelves running along the walls. They were all filled with varieties of liquids, most of which seemed to be various hues of dark red. A bookshelf sat on the far wall, filled with medical books and tools in varying degrees of wear and tear.

Returning my attention to the bed I was lying on, The worn blanket itched, the feeling of the fabric against my skin felt... off. Like my entire body was numb. Though it -and the unsurprising revelation that the metal on the outside of a pipbuck is cold- also gave me the oh-so-helpful knowledge that I wasn’t wearing my dress anymore... or anything apart from my pipbuck, the tattered quilt was the only thing covering me.
Moving my hands along my torso, the numbness turned to a mild stinging pain as it neared my stomach, at the center of which lay what felt like a field of small holes in my skin, covered by a coarse but tightly woven fabric. Bandages…? Oh right, I got shot. But surely healing magic would’ve sufficed? Or a potion? Ponies still used potions, right?

Sitting myself up -well, more attempting to sit myself up than actually succeeding- was rewarded with a sharp pain in my back as I felt my back muscles spasm and my wings twitch in distress. I figured that since I had been shot, at least some of what had hit me had gone all the way through, tearing into my wings and getting lodged into the natural plate that shielded them from outside forces.

I instead shifted onto my side, using the flat of my hand to sweep over my back to the best of my ability. Maybe I could pull the fragments out, if some had gone through as I predicted... nope, smooth as aged glass, save for the seam between the two to release my wings. What was in there was on the inside. Even if I were to open the plate, it wouldn’t make pulling them out any easier, and it’d likely just invite more bleeding if any of it was dislodged. Or worse, caught between the two, then it’d just tear the skin off completely.

Opting to return to laying on my back, I pulled an arm from beneath the blanket to wake the drone. Initially, I just rubbed his head, stroking the fleshy crest along the back of his scalp. When that yielded no results, I shook him. Still nothing, so I gave him a shove… still nothing! With an annoyed sigh, I shifted back to my side, facing him I pulled my leg up with a strained grunt and placed a hoof firmly on his forehead. And then forced him over, knocking him onto the floor with a shocked chirp and a defensive hiss. I couldn’t help but let off a giggle at that, though I was not quite sure why exactly I thought that was funny.

While I took the time to return to lying on my back and re-blanketing myself, I watched the drone gripping his forehead while standing up again, his emotions shifting rapidly when he realised I was awake. Mostly between anger at the sudden kick to the face, and relief when he realised his would-be assailant was just his queen.

Rushing to my side, clearly deciding on the latter, his wings buzzed with eagerness. “Thank the Maker! You’re alright! I was worried that you’d be in a coma or something like that.” The warm smile I had been giving him lessened a bit. ‘How peculiar... no “my queen”? No “your highness” or anything like that? I must’ve been out awhile if he was behaving anything like that.’ Drones that spend an extended period of time without the queen controlling the hivemind tended to lose their reflexive referring to my title. A minor thing, really, but it still irked me when I noticed it.

He seemed to catch on to my confusion, as he quickly spoke up again. “Oh! You’ve been unconscious for almost a day now, the town’s doctor wasn’t sure you’d make it. And without you heading the hivemind...” He looked at the floor, his ears folding down “I‘ve been… scared. I was fearing the worst, And I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to get to my other hive-mates on my own.” He paused “And on that note...I’d like to...um… givemyselfaname!” He spat it out so quickly I initially feared it to be something bad. I stared at him for a moment, taking in what he’d said... And then promptly burst into laughter.

“BAHAHAHAHAH! A name? That’s all? I was expecting you to want to run off with the eggs or some equally absurd and illogical idea!” I gave him a rough pat on the head, which he seemed to enjoy just a little bit. “Little drone, I do not die so easily. I’m not at a hundred percent yet, to be sure, but a single shotgun- uh shot? -isn’t going to kill me so easily. There’s no need to be so dramatic.” To be honest, it probably could’ve had I not been brought here.

Speaking of which... “Anyway, how did we even end up... wherever it is we are? Last I recall, I was face-up, watching you unintentionally drown me in my own blood.” His ears drooped, sadness seeping steadily from him. While I felt a little bad for him given that he was only trying to help, I still needed answers.
Letting him have his little guilt-trip, I sat myself upright while wrapping the blanket around my torso and mentally biting back the aches and pains coming from it. Leaning against the wall, I felt… okay. Not spectacular, but okay.
“I’m sorry about that, my queen,” Ah, there it is. “It’s just… you were in pain and I wasn’t sure what else I could’ve done...” He would’ve spoken further, but the door opening cut him off. The mare that stepped in was likely the aforementioned doctor...or maybe a scientist, the unmarked lab coat she wore made it kind of hard to tell. Not that I was focusing much on that anyway, I was more interested in why she had half a zebra face.

Right down the middle of her head, her grey fur ended with a thick line of scar tissue running down her face, along her muzzle and past her neckline, suddenly changing to white and black. If the colour change wasn’t distinct enough, the end of her muzzle went from the smooth shape of a pony’s to the black-skinned and slightly bulkier one of a zebra. I couldn’t see where the scars ended, but her left arm being covered in stripes made it clear it went past her shoulder at the very least.

This was surprising, shocking even, but I had to remain calm and polite. Calm and poli-“Holy Shit! What are you?!” I slapped my hands over my mouth, wincing and mentally kicking myself as the mare’s body steadily radiated annoyance… Good going, Deciduous, seven hundred years old and you still can’t keep your mouth shut when something surprises you. I cleared my throat and tried my best to save face “E-excuse me, that just slipped out. Your appearance is somewhat… Unusual.”

“I could say the same of you, Bughorse McCheeselegs,” she responded tersely. Ouch. She folded her mismatched arms over her chest “You’re no perfect picture, yourself. You’re lucky the old stallion at the gate used second-rate buckshot he loaded himself instead of the solid-slug rounds we give everyone else. Judging from where he’d aimed, he’d have torn your spine out.”
She unfolded her arms, taking a moment to look at me, her eyes trailing down the vague shape the blanket covering me made against my body… With how slowly she was going, I wasn’t sure if she was giving me a checkup or checking me out. The short burst of flustered emotions that appeared when she caught my confused look made me less sure of the former.

“Speaking of the gate, what were you doing out there? Usually when someone arrives from the badlands gate it’s somepony we’ve sent out that way, not someone coming in.”

My ears folded back, I wasn’t sure if I should even tell her my plans. For all I knew, she would try to find the hive, or stop me from heading outward. I didn’t want to take that chance. Although,I didn’t want to have to leave my hive in the first place either. I would’ve been happy to spent the rest of my first millennium safely underground, but no. Besides, the hive was sealed, why would I have to worry anyway? I decided it’d be best to worry about it later and ask a few questions of my own.

“I have a better question: Why help me? As far as that old stallion was concerned, I was one of these ‘Alicorns’ he was going on about.” She huffed again.
“Given what little we know about alicorns, it seemed pretty far-fetched that you were one of them, though I can’t blame the guy for putting a round through your gut. Alicorn abduction is a terrifying thought.”
“And on that note, what exactly are they?” I asked. My infiltrators had given me limited news on this particular subject, they never reported encountering any, but heard mentions of them from time to time over the last decade or so. The incredulous look the half-zebra was giving did irk me a bit, but she sighed and explained to me what she knew about the Alicorns.

What I learnt surprised me. Apparently, the alicorns had shown up out of the Maripony area some time roughly a decade ago, abducting ponies to bring back to join a thing of theirs called ‘Unity’. She didn’t really have much to go on as to what ‘Unity’ was, but if it required being foalnapped, It was probably for the best that I didn’t know.

I spent a good few minutes conversing with the half-zebra after that, exchanging names and explanations of our appearances. Apparently her story was that she was the reason the town she was born in stopped using pre-war surgical laser technology, her survival had been an unintended miracle. I only gave out the basics: ’I’m a Changeling, I’ve lived for a very long time, and I need to get to Saddle Arabia’ was all I would say on the matter.

Much to my annoyance, it only ended up with her asking a flurry of yet more questions like ‘Why Saddle Arabia?’ ‘How long have you lived for?’ ‘How do you plan on getting to Saddle Arabia?’ ‘Where even is Saddle Arabia?’ and ‘What the hell is a changeli-’ I tuned her out, staring off into space.
The drone meanwhile, spoke to me from the hivemind, having moved over to the far corner of the room where the eggs lay, still in their cases.

‘My queen, are you alright?’

‘Yes, just ignoring these questions I’m not going to answer. ...Drone, how are the eggs doing?’

‘They’re stable, my queen. I had to feed them some of my own love reserves while you were unconscious, but they’re alright.’

I let out an internal sigh ‘That’s a relief. Thank you drone, I’ll be sure to give you some of my own love reserves in recompense once I have my strength back in full.’

‘Hopefully that shouldn’t take too long then. Thank you, my queen.’

‘Think nothing of it, the last few days have been… stressful to say the least.’

‘Yes, my queen.’

We sat in silence for a time, the literal half-zebra still prattling on with questions I had long since ceased listening to. I kept my vision on the Drone, watching as he removed an egg from its case, gave it a light tap with his horn, and watched as the little form inside began to glow.
It wriggled a little, the shape of a muzzle was very distinct, opening and closing softly. Its little arms fidgeted, little more than flat nubs on the end, and its entire lower-body resembled that of a grub.
It was beautiful.

‘...Drone?’

‘Your highness?’

‘You mentioned something about a name, correct?’

‘Yes, my queen. I was… Considering the idea of giving myself one while you were unconscious.’

‘I think that’s acceptable.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. I’ve decided that it’ll be important to distinguish you from your future hivemates in a way other than by age. Do you have a name in mind?’

‘Er… No.’

‘Hmm, how about… “Carapace”?’

‘Carapace? It’s simple, easy to remember… Carapace… I like that one.’

‘Very well, Carapace-’

‘Heh…’

‘When we get the hive back to its full strength, I am making you my first new hatchery guard.’

‘I-I… I am honored, m-my queen.’

‘Indeed. But for now, keep checking on the eggs, and let me know when the doctor stops talking.’

‘She...already did a few minutes ago. She’s been staring at you since.’

‘Oh…shit.’

Notes:

Deciduous - Level Up! (Level 4)

New Perk(s)

Gutshot: You really aren’t good at this whole ‘Social’ thing, are you? Being shot in the gut has shredded your wings and left shrapnel in your rear plates, you receive a -50% to your torso’s durability, -30 to Maximum Health and a minor loss in speed until it heals. Also, you can’t fly.

Surgical Lasers = Bad: Your recent info gathered from the unfortunate half-zebra has left you more nervous around pre-war medical equipment, you gain a +5 to the Medicine skill when healed with traditional methods, but technological pre-war pony stuff will not heal you past 75% HP. Thankfully, potions do not fall under this category.

My Hive, My...Family (Level 1): You have bonded with your changelings for the first time in a way that a pony wouldn’t consider outrageous, weird or some strange form of slavery. You give a +10% exp bonus to changelings in your hive. This perk has 10 levels, each with different effects.

Mother-Figure: While none of them are specifically yours, the changelings are your children. The young are therefore the most important, and add +5 to your DT should they be in danger.

Carapace - Level Up! (Level 3)

New Perk:

Identification: You have a name! A feeling of individuality flows over you, adding +1 to all of the Skills you excel in most.

Author's Note

Apologies to the, like, five of you that are actually following this thing for me taking so long.

A part of it was me being lazy, and another was me writing over 6,000 words, hating the later half and chopping it up to begin again with something completely different.

I aimed for this chapter to be around 6000 words...only managed about 4,700 or so...

I basically cut my losses, finished self-editing this to the best of my ability, and then uploaded this. There's likely some stuff I've missed in the editing, as self-editing never really works out, no matter how hard you try.

Special thanks to Kkat for creating FoE, as usual.

Enjoy c:

Chapter 4; Barricade part 2

Chapter 4

This strange zebra-pony split of a doctor and I stared at one another for what felt like ages. She seemed upset, but mostly radiated confusion and curiosity if my emotion-sensing abilities were anything to go by. In the continuously lengthening moment of awkwardness, I got to look over the doctor’s face further.

I wasn’t able to get much else from her bizarre appearance save for -like the skin and fur on either side of her head and face- she had mismatched eyes as well, the zebra side a pretty green with the pony side a vibrant blue.

Opting to try and end the silence and the awkwardness permeating it, I decided to ask another question that had been rattling around in the back of my head.

“So, does you being half zebra mean that half of what you say is in rhyme?” She blinked, taken aback by the odd question before regaining her composure.

“What? No! I can’t think of anyone that’s ever done such a stupid thing!”

‘Huh, how about that,’ I mused. ‘I guess that tradition died out in the war, too... Aww, now I’m gonna be disappointed whenever one speaks to me without rhyming...’ If I ever meet another one, that is.

“Why would you ask such a thing? Is that something else changelings do?”

Her question caught me from staring into space again. I shook my head to clear it of the curiosities of zebra linguistics, and refocused on the conversation.

“Er...no, changelings do not speak rhymes in every sentence. It used to be a thing Zebras did before the war… At least supposedly…”

“Before the war? So, are you really well educated, or are you like a really good looking ghoul or something? Minus the holes in your legs, of course.” A ghoul? What in the world was a ghoul? I turned to the newly named Carapace, the drone catching on to my confusion almost immediately and throwing a ‘brief’ explanation through the hivemind.

‘Ghoul. Infiltrator teams ran into them on numerous occasions. They are ponies, -and zebras in very rare cases- who’ve taken excessive amounts of magical radiation yet have not died. Many of them pre-war, these ghoul-ponies have lived for a very long time at the cost of their bodies looking decrepit and rotten. When the radiation rots the pony’s brain away to a sufficient degree, they turn ‘feral’ and are little more than vicious, snarling monsters.’

If there was one word I could use to describe him when he got like this, it’d be ‘boring’...

‘Thank you, Carapace.’

‘Hee…’

Well, he clearly liked that name.

Returning my attention to the mare, I figured I should probably stop giving her the impression that I go blank whenever I stop to process something. Lying and dancing around the subject after giving away so much information was going to be too much of a hassle. Especially with all these holes in my gut.

“Er, no, I’m not one of these ‘ghouls’ you speak of. Honestly haven’t heard much about them before.” She didn’t buy it.

“Not heard about ghouls? What, have you been living under a rock?” More like a few thousand tonnes of sand, but she didn’t really need to know that. With an annoyed sigh, the doctor left the room, returning moments later with my dress in her hands. She tossed it into my lap, placed a small glass filled with a foggy liquid on the bench, and then walked back out with a half-hearted “I’ll wait for you in the next room. Get dressed and take that second dose of painkiller there, and you can answer those questions I asked on the way.”

On the way? To what? It didn’t really matter, I suppose. I looked my dress over for a moment; the middle had been patched, albeit somewhat poorly, with an only vaguely similar bit of cloth. It’d have to do, so I asked Carapace to hand me the glass.

Gulping down the painkiller and slipping my dress back on -with a bit of difficulty given that I was still sitting on the bed-, I only just now realised I couldn’t see my Eyes Forward Sparkle. Bringing the PipBuck up to my face, I realised the interface wasn’t lit up. Groaning in annoyance, I felt around it with my hand until I found the power button. With a whir, it sputtered to life and text appeared in my vision again, the first two lines being ‘ERROR: POWER FAILURE DETECTED’, and ‘RELOADING LAST AUTOSAVE’.

I was greeted with my EFS popping into place again. The alicorn indicator faded in, its torso segment listed as ‘INJURED’. My wings, however, were still listed with question marks, the icon flashing the same way the torso had when I was shot; I could only assume it meant the pip-buck believed they were crippled.

The numbing sensation that had started fading returned when I drank the glass’ contents, so feeling it flow back into me gave me a few moments of bliss as I simply laid back and enjoyed it. Even so, I still felt a few lingering jabs around my innards as I twisted my body to get my legs over the side of the bed; leftover bullet fragments, no doubt. I had to get Carapace to put the egg back into its case, so as to be ready to help me should I lose my balance. As soon as I placed my hooves on the floor and lifted myself from the bed, I found my body suddenly wracked with a dozen different tiny pains. I stumbled, almost falling over in my numbed state, but I managed it.

I figured I may as well look upon the eggs myself before following the doctor outside, so I walked to the containers still settled in the corner. Crouching down, I opted to inspect the largest of the three, pulling the large orb from its protective case and holding it in front of my face after faintly tapping my horn against it. As when Carapace had done it, the orb shone as the grub inside began to glow. It's little nubby limbs fidgeted as its body twisted and wriggled within the confines of its egg, occasionally pushing against the sides of the shell with it’s short horn.

It was going to hatch very soon indeed.

‘Carapace, this one is close to hatching!’

‘I can see that, my queen, there hasn’t been anything else here to grab my attention.’

‘Stow the attitude or I shall revoke that name.’

‘Understood, my queen.’

‘Good. Dispose of the case for this one, we shan’t need it.’

Carapace, with a nod, went about checking on the other two eggs before dismantling the now-empty case. Sinking his fangs into the case’s surface, his horn flashed as he began siphoning the excess love energy out of it. As he went about that, I focused more on the egg, the glow fading from my previous spell. The grub inside fidgeted a little more, but eventually went still as I held the sphere to my chest. It seemed to press against the side of the shell closest to my body.

Carapace eventually brought my attention back from staring at the unhatched changeling, the other two cases strung over his back. With a noticeable clatter from his armor, we exited into the next room where the doctor was waiting; I couldn’t help but smirk as I got a faint hint of surprise as she gaped at my height. My little moment of reverie was cut short by a jerking sensation as my horn caught against the top of the doorframe, yanking my head back as I passed under it.

My widened eyes could only see the top of the doorframe and a small section of the ceiling beyond it. My ears, on the other hand, were greeted by the sound of stifled chuckles and snickering. I pulled my horn free and stood up with a grumble, glaring daggers at the doctor who currently seemed more focused on attempting to stop laughing at my blunder. She caught my withering stare and seemed to shut up... until her eyes moved an inch further upwards, and her face was immediately again full of laughter, this time without any show of hiding it. I snarled at her in an attempt to silence her, but I spotted a chuckling Carapace covering his mouth and pointing above my head. I reached up and felt around my horn, and my face flushed with further embarrassment as I realised pulling my horn free of the door had pulled some of the frame with it.

A good minute of laughter at my expense followed as we left the building, though I was somewhat thankful the others in the town staring at us were doing it more for our appearance rather than knowing the joke. The town... or settlement, I wasn’t quite sure... seemed to have an overall circular shape, walls mostly consisting of the same tree trunk walls I had seen from the badlands. Where there wasn’t wood, the walls were made from things like scrapped wagons and sheet metal. An enormous double-doored gate was visible in one of the walls; an old road sign nailed to one of the doors read ‘You are now leaving…’ with the rest of it had been scribbled out and ‘BARRICADE’ splattered on in dark red paint. At least, I hoped it was paint…

The doctor led us to one of the smaller buildings along the walls, a general store, if the poorly spelt sign was any indication; although given what the ponies did to themselves, I’d be surprised if any of them could actually read. The interior of the ‘Jenerul Stor’, as the sign had labeled it, was sparse, containing a single pony sleeping behind a desk with a wall of miscellaneous junk behind him.

“Hey Scrap Metal, you’ve got customers,” the doctor suddenly spoke out, jarring the stallion from his nap. Unsurprisingly, his face scrunched up in confusion and disgust when he saw Carapace. His eyes widened and pupils shrank when he spotted me, though his emotions changed from fear to wonder quite suddenly.

“So this is the Alicorn you were talking about, doc?” He eyed me with distaste. “From what I’d heard about, I hadn’t expected something a bit less nasty-looking.” Nasty!? “Does it talk?” It was more instinct than anything else, but that little bruise to my pride had me hissing in retaliation.

“Yes Scrap, she can talk. And no, she’s not an Alicorn as we thought. This is Deciduous; apparently she’s a changeling, and not just any. She’s the Queen..” A Queen, I mentally corrected him.

“A changeling?”

“Yes.”

“The mythical shapeshifters said to be able to change their appearance to look and sound like anypony and feed on their love?”

“That’s right.”

“Her?”

“Mhm.”

“...Get out of my store.”

“I’m serious!”

“I’m serious too, Syra. Get out of my store.” Okay, this was getting stupid. I shoved the ‘zony’ aside and planted my hands firmly on the desk, shoving my muzzle into the store owner’s.

“Look here ‘short, dark and skeptical’. Changeling or not, I’m here to do business. So you can either shut up and sell me things, or keep bickering like an old married couple and miss out on what I have to sell. Sound fair?” I didn’t give him any time to retort. ”Good! Carapace!” The changeling squeaked at the sudden mentioning of his name and hurried over. “The bag of valuables, please.” I felt him place it in my hand, not turning to look at him.

Holding it out to the stallion, he stuck his arm in and pulled out the first thing he could grab onto: a golden goblet, a treasure from a conquered hive long ago… and scarcely used since as little more than a paperweight.

I grinned as his jaw dropped. Almost immediately, he shut it and reached behind the desk, pulling out a small bag that rattled with the sound of small metal bits clashing against each other.

“One hundred caps, hands down.” Now then, let’s see if I can maximise my trade.

“Three hundred,” I countered.

“One-fifty.”

“Two-seventy-five.”

“Two hundred.”

“Two-fifty,” he stuttered, clearly unsure about whether to meet my offer any further. I could tell that he really wanted this thing, though.

“Two-ten. That’s all I’ve got. I’ll throw in this old ten-mil’ and a couple holsters too, if you’re still interested in selling.”

Hmm... Fair enough. Got to take what I can get…

I spent a good five minutes staring at the blocky chunk of metal that was apparently the 10mm pistol I had traded for, as well as the bag of what I found to be bottlecaps. I had to ask the doctor- Syra I believe- multiple times to confirm I hadn’t just been ripped off. But they were indeed both a firearm and a commonly-used type of currency.

Bottlecaps as currency, oh what a world I live in.

Carapace lifted the pistol from my hand to look at it, pulling the slide back and dropping the magazine out of the grip, inspecting it... How did he know how to do that?

My question would remain unanswered as he handed it back to me, picked up the magazine and started loading bullets into it... when did he get those?

Clearly, my insistence on figuring things out as I go was not helping. My senses had surely been dulled by two centuries of sitting on my throne and seeing if I could beat the wall in a staring contest. My assumption of this was further bolstered that the zony had disappeared a few minutes ago and I hadn’t noticed. My complaint-riddled train of thought was halted for the umpteenth time today as she tapped me on the shoulder, startling me.

“So listen, I just spoke with the ‘weaponsmith’ as he calls himself, and he wants to take a look at that pistol of yours.” I handed the bulky thing to her, but she just shook her head. “Not that one, the one you brought with you.” My eyes widened; how did she even know about that?

She seemed to catch on to my confusion as she responded to my question immediately.
“Carapace told me in exchange for not telling what those things were.” She pointed at the egg I had my other arm curled around, drawing my eyes to it. “Must be pretty important if something so conspicuous should be kept secret… not that that Pip-buck of yours isn’t special in and of itself.”

I spied the light of the afternoon sun passing through the egg shell, highlighting the silhouette of the wriggling grub inside;maybe it knew someone was talking about it. With a little smile, I returned my gaze to the Syra, nodding and standing up.
“Very well, I’ve nothing else to do. Show me the way.” The zony turned, gesturing with her head for me to follow.

I looked through more of the town as we were lead through it. Watchtowers occasionally stuck up from the wall marking the town’s perimeter, a pony with a long rifle in his hands standing at the top of each one. A small group of ponies was tending to a farm near the base of one of the towers, the long strands of dark green plant matter seeming quite out-of-place compared to the rare grassy weeds growing through the rough terrain beneath my hooves.

What really caught my attention was the animals one of the ponies was tending to. It looked to be a cow, but at the neck it split off into two different heads, the rest of its lumpy, hairless body a fleshy pink. It was quite unsettling to look at, to say the least.

The weaponsmith’s shop seemed to have few differences with the general store, the only major ones being the sign -which was, surprisingly, spelled correctly- and the metal bars over the windows. The interior was another story; weapons hung on the walls from pegs, the entire place reeked of gunpowder, and metal.

The owner stood behind the bench at the back of the store, the cyan-furred mare resting her elbows on the metal top as she polished the pistol in her hands with a damp rag. Looking up as we approached, she raised a single solitary eyebrow at my appearance. I wasn’t sure whether to be impressed with her calm demeanor or a little offended at my visage not being as intimidating as usual.

“Good, you’ve brought her with you.” She stepped around the desk and stuck a dirty hand out, which I reluctantly shook. Bringing my palm to my face after made me scrunch up my nose at the smell of grease and brass. Brilliant, that smell is going to stick with me for ages now.

“Name’s Tinker,” The gunsmith uttered in her oddly calm attitude, she stuck her other hand out, still holding the rag. “May I see the weapon in question?” I was silent for a moment, a sudden elbow in my side from Syra urging me to do something. With a begrudging sigh, I reached into the pack and pulled out Yearling, handing it to her.

She eyed the revolver in her hands, bringing it back to her little bench and pulling a massive tome out from beneath the desk and setting it next to the weapon in question.

She flipped through the pages, eventually stopping and pointing to a picture on the paper, looking between it and Yearling. Eventually her eyes widened and she gestured me over. Had she looked up from the book at any point, she might’ve noticed me walk up beside her and start peering over her shoulder. The pistol pictured in the book resembled mine quite clearly, but without the fancy etchings and engravings.

“Huh, how about that… but where did you get this book? I was lead to believe a lot of pre-war books were destroyed or used for fire or food or whatever you ponies do with books.” The glare I received in response certainly dissuaded those ideas… especially the annoyed sigh I heard from Carapace. I made a mental note to file that under ‘maybe’.

“This is a modified version of this revolver in the book,” Tinker began. “The ‘Ironshod Dragoon’ was made during the earlier days of firearms in Equestria, back when the place was called ‘Ironshod & Son’s’. They made a few thousand of these before better revolvers and semi-automatic firearms replaced them. High calibre, but good luck finding any ammo for it.” I put the handful of bullets and spent casings I brought with me on the table.

“Let’s see; eight rounds, four empty casings, casing condition seems-” She suddenly gasped, gently placing the ammunition down on the table and backing against the wall. “Are you mad, you crazy bug-alicorn thing?! The blasting cap on most of these has been hit by a firing pin already!”

“Yeah, so? What of it?”

“‘What of it’? Do you not realise how unstable something like that is? It could’ve gone off in my face!”

After yelling at me for a few more minutes, Tinker eventually unloaded all the ammunition with primed blasting caps from the revolver. She handed me a crude leather holster to put it in so I didn’t accidentally shoot myself and then shooed out of the store before I gave her something else that could blow up in her face. Well, that wasn’t very polite of her...

Further being lead around by Syra brought me to the centre of the town, where a rather nondescript pedestal not far from the gate was surrounded by grooves in the sand. Wagon tracks or something perhaps? Did ponies even still use those?

“Yeah, some do from time to time” Syra said when I asked. “Mostly traders and the more large-scale caravans. Some either have slaves pulling them, or have old gem-powered engines or talismans running. Some just like to pull their homes around with them.” Huh… neat, I guess.

“Either way, as I explained before, I need to get to Baltimare if I’m to find more of my changelings.” Syra turned to me, looking thoughtful, before speaking again.

“Well, I have one idea, but before I voice it, I’d like you to answer a question of mine: you’re a Queen, correct? Your drones more or less come from you, don’t they? What’s stopping you from just starting your hive again?” That… was a good question, but at least I had an answer to it.

“Because, my dear zony, I do not have the love reserves to support rebuilding my hive from its current location, it takes around a day of travel through the badlands to get to it by flying, and the drones would not grow quickly enough to be able to replenish them through outside work. Additionally, the hive itself would need my presence to keep the new hivemind stable.

“In short; no matter how you look at it, the hive would starve itself from that location. So I’ll either need a new hive, or I need to bring together enough changelings to make returning to the old one viable.”

Syra returned to her thoughtful look, digesting my response. “I see… Well that answers my question, so I suppose I can tell you my idea.”

Syra’s suggestion had ended up being a matter of waiting for the next trader caravan to come through and sticking with them until I got to the next nearest settlement, a place called Rail’s End that made use of a stretch of railway line to get through some of the fiercer parts of the Equestrian wasteland that ponies rarely trod. As we waited and the shadows grew longer, I had time to work on a disguise I could use for future pony interaction. I settled on a black-furred unicorn mare, opting to keep my mane’s natural colour. My dress changed to match my disguise’s shorter height, though the patch around my stomach retained its presence, much to my annoyance. Uninspired, but functional enough.

I was just starting to work out a name with begrudging assistance from Syra when the gate opened. In rolled an old covered wagon, the pony driver sporting a wide and friendly smile on his muzzle, bouncing his head from side to side and moving to a beat only he seemed to hear. A small group of ponies were settled on the roof with him, looking around and waving to those who would wave back.

His cart, a mixture of wood and metal, clanked along calmly, despite the fairly loud and exposed bit of machinery at the front that I could only assume was an engine of some sort.
The wagon slowed to a halt as the gate closed behind it, the ponies hopping off of the roof and opening the doors along the sides and rear of the vehicle to reach inside. They began pulling out crates that they hefted up with both arms and began carrying them towards the general store.

The lead pony, the one who had been bobbing his head to an unheard song, approached me with his confident smile and a faint emotional aroma wafting around him. It was subtle enough that I couldn’t quite place what it was supposed to be. With a huff, he put down the crate he was carrying, placed a hoof on it and leant on his knee, still grinning like an idiot at me.

“Hey there pretty thing, haven’t seen you before on my usual runs to this town, what brings you here?” The amount of smarm in that grin of his was enough to make me groan, though I had to drown it out with a nervous smile. I was not used to behaving differently in a disguise, and it was very tempting to tell him to jump off a bridge, but I needed him if we were to get anywhere any time soon… and I doubt there were very many bridges of suitable height left, let alone anywhere around here.

The stallion continued to hold his gaze with my eyes, smirk dripping with a lustful infatuation. The loose vest on his torso was unbuttoned to show off the surprisingly immaculate tattoo on his chest of a red-furred mare with a suggestive smile on her lips. His patched brown pants seemed fairly uninteresting, despite the myriad of different fabrics holding them together… probably because most of them were other shades of brown.

“I’m… Autumn Breeze…” I mentally groaned at my continuously awful improvisation abilities and my odd jaw movements trying to account for my shortened pony teeth compared to the sharper, more carnivorous changeling jaw. “And I’m... seeking transport on your caravan to get to the next town.” My delivery was awkward, trying my best to keep the sneer from my face. Carapace, having donned his own dark green earth pony disguise, had remained quiet, but I could just imagine him wanting to scoff at my poor delivery.

The caravan pony either seemed to not notice my odd manner of speaking or didn’t care, as he continued to beam and offered me a hand to help me into the wagon. I returned the smiled and nervously accepted his assistance.

“Well, my lovely mare, I do believe I can help you with that. The Morning Glory caravan service is at your disposal… for about 50 caps per pony, of course.” I mentally rolled my eyes at the name while he felt me up with his eyes. Disgusting. “Though for you, sweet thing; I’ll give you a discount if you give me a little smooch on the cheek...” Not the most ideal of trades in my favour… but it wouldget me out of here, so...

Having to make do with what I got, I begrudgingly agreed to very lightly peck him on that grinning cheek of his, and instead of 100 bottle caps, had to only pay 80… a whole 20 caps cheaper, don’t I feel special? I couldn’t afford to go giving away what trinkets I still had from the hive left and right, but still.

I begrudgingly climbed aboard the cart and waited as the pony in question went about his business. I was bored within five minutes, deciding to use the time to fiddle with my new Pip-Buck some more, despite how absolutely awkward the thing still felt on my wrist. At least I could just remove it if I so desired; I could just unhook the latch and be rid of it, no special tools required. On the other hand, its injury detection systems could be quite useful, and the S.A.T.S. spell listed in the wall of text that flooded my vision every reboot could prove handy in combat; provided it didn’t shut down on me like it did when I was shot.

A good hour later and the pony in question, still smirking, finally left the last building he had attended to, having exhausted the crate of goods he had carried with him.. Hauling himself back onto the cart, he waited a bit longer for his entourage, Carapace, and Syra to join us, and we set off.

As we rolled out of Barricade and into the open wasteland, the town gates shutting behind us, I felt the need to speak and break a bit more of the metaphorical ice.

“So,” I began, pausing as I struggled to think of something to say. “What’s your name? I can’t imagine something as… distinct… as Morning Glory is your name… is it?” The stallion immediately burst into laughter, shaking his head.

“No, no. Not at all, but I can understand how you’d come to that conclusion, given how I introduced it, but Morning Glory is the name of my little caravan company… even if it’s just me and these four, it keeps up in caps and good people in supply of stuff they need. Myself included.” He gestured to the two stallions and three mares riding with us, throwing a smirk at me.

I looked his compatriots over, then glanced back at him, still curious.

“So who might you be, then?” I asked, and then immediately regretted it as I saw one of his partners pull up an old radio and press the worn-out ‘play’ button.

A somewhat jazzy tune began playing as the ponies began nodding their heads to the beat, then lightly slapping their hands against their thighs or nearby objects as my ever-so-gracious host stood up and cleared his throat, beginning to sing. Oh maker, what have I done?

“Oooooooh-well I’m the type of guy who will never settle down,
Where pretty mares are, well you know that I’m around,
I kiss ‘em and I love ‘em, cus’ to me they’re all the same,
I hug ‘em an’ I squeeze ‘em, they don’t even know my name”

He struck a pose, throwing his arms out to the air as his entourage began to sing along, humming and oohing in tune along with him. One of the stallions brought his hands up to his mouth in the motions replicating playing the saxophone that began blaring with his chorus.

“They call me The Wanderer,
Yeah, The Wanderer,
I roam around, around, around, around, around…”

He didn’t even hesitate to start his next verse as his little backing entourage continued their tune, gesturing to the three mares accompanying him, and then the tattoo on his chest as he sang.

“Well there’s Flow on my left, and there’s Daisy on my right,
And Lily is the girl that I’ll be with tonight.
But when she asks me which one I love the best,
I tear open my shirt and I go ‘Oh Rosie on my chest’
‘Cause I’m The Wanderer, yeah The Wanderer,
I roam around, around, around, around,”

I made a mental note to at some point ask how exactly a tattoo on a chest consisting of fur was supposed to work.

“Oh well I roam from town to town,
I go through life… without a care!
And I’m as happy as a clown,
I with my two fists of iron but I’m goin’ nowhere, no”

Brandishing a pair of pistols seemingly from nowhere, he spun them on his fingers, tossing them into the air and catching them again as he began the next verse.

“Yeah I’m the type of guy that likes to roam around,
I’m never in one place, I roam from town to town,
And when I find myself, falling for some girl,
Yeah, I hop right onto this cart of mine and drive around the world.

Yeah I’m The Wanderer,
Yeah, a Wanderer,
I roam around, around, around, around

Let’s go we’re lettin’ go~”

He then let his little backup troupe do their own little humming bit as a sort of mid-point to the song, the faux-saxaphone player going into a solo, and I took the time to look around. Noticing that Carapace had begun swaying from side to side with the beat, I admit it wasn’t long before I started doing the same; this song was catchy. “The Wanderer,” as he seemed to fancy himself, soon picked up with his opening verse again as a finisher.

“Oh yeah, I’m the type of guy that likes to roam around,
I’m never in one place, I roam from town to town~
And when I find myself-a fallin’ for some girl,
Yeah, I hop right into this cart of mine and-a drive around the world
Yeah I’m The Wanderer,
yeah, The Wanderer,
I roam around, around, around, around…”

He continued as I turned to watch Barricade slowly fade into the distance behind us; this thing moved faster than expected. Oh well, I guess we’re starting off on our adventure… I could only hope it got better from here on out.

...Why did I get the sinking feeling that wasn’t going to be the case?

Author's Note

Here it is! I FINALLY finished it! And I'm really.... not that proud of it, honestly ;w;

But I've been on-and-off with this chapter for over a year, I am done with it. I just want to get the next one underway. I apologise for any inconsistancies, feel free to point them out and I'll get to them. I'm just really fed up with looking this chapter over in Google Docs.

But hey, on the plus side, the story's got a new picture. And it's a fair bit longer than the last ones c:

Enjoy... I hope c: