It only occurred to me as I finished fleshing out the basic doctrine of The Heavenly Accord of Harmony that I had no way of reproducing and distributing the information, short of painstakingly transcribing each copy. I felt a little deflated, but my boiling inspiration refused to let me mope about it too long, and I decided to keep on with the Good Work, designing a simple pamphlet, trusting the influence of the Goddesses to lead me to good fortune.

On the other hoof, there wasn't much else for me to do.

Not for the first time, I thanked my lucky stars that the caravanners had allowed me and Razzle to join them. Although my wings were fine, my dead leg would still have slowed us considerably between flights. Well, mostly it was a matter of Rusty's presence and firepower that had granted our acceptance, but I liked to think that my natural charisma had something to do with it.

Razzle was earning her keep doing any number of little odd jobs, from babysitting, to crawling under the wagons to maintenance the axles. She insisted she was earning keep for both of us, but Rusty not only assured me that my presence was no burden, but also that Razzle was earning a small wage from her work, mostly in the form of barter and trinkets, though she wasn't hurting for caps either.

That's not to say all was well, my dead leg was undeniably rotting. The reek of decay was pungent, and although I did my best to cleanse it, constantly changing the bandages, the odor permeated everything I did. I wasn't of a single mind as to what to do about it. I wasn't about to amputate as I suspected just how excruciating it would be to regenerate a limb from nothing, if I even could, as even at my worst my bones had remained attached. Nevermind just now difficult it would be to explain how it was my magic managed to repair such spectacular damage.

Granted, there were already questions I couldn't, or wouldn't answer about my condition. The fact that the rest of me was hale and hearty while my leg was sloughing off putrid flesh stupefied those who'd attempted to treat me. I was now refusing to let anyone else see it, insisting I had it taken care of. I wasn't entirely sure if I had managed to keep the flies out of it and every time I changed the bandages I was afraid I would find it gravid with the twitching and wriggling of maggots. Somehow, after all the horrors of war and my own experience treating complex injuries, I had never been able to get over my squeamishness regarding parasites, or those tiny white grubs that looked like sticky rice.

I did not feel relief as we neared our destination, instead, my anxiety mounted. I had no idea if this Tinker would be capable of repairing the harness, I didn't know if it even could be repaired. I'd been under the impression that the armor was indestructible and the fact that it had proved otherwise rattled me far more than I was willing to let on. It meant that the armor could, and had failed me. It meant that I could actually be killed, I could rot and die just as I was watching my leg wither away before my eyes, and it couldn't all be fixed just by closing the clasp.

I'd started having nightmares, full of plain, ordinary tedium. In one I was back in high school, meeting friends I hadn't seen in years. Then they would betray me, mocking and belittling my every fear and weakness. In others I fled in a blind panic, and even though my pursuer never caught up to me, I never got away either. Some were the most painfully mundane, following the most inane of daily habits such as brushing my teeth or hair, only for them to all fall out. I awoke one morning convinced I had lost a molar, so vivid had been the taste of blood, the sensation of the roots wiggling free and the contours of the tooth on my tongue.

I was a bit more of a nervous wreck than usual by the time we made it to the Tinker's cottage, even my writing had suffered. I enjoyed brief moments of escape in the experience of my lost love's journal, but psychosomatic pain and phantom limb sensations haunted me constantly. It would die down just long enough to lure me into a false sense of comfort, only to strike again with a sudden vengeful intensity when I least expected it. Even Razzle couldn't stand my worsening mood and in turn, I avoided everyone else, except when I could no longer avoid it, such as notifying sentries of bathroom breaks or fetching a meal. I hadn't attempted to eat with anyone since the smell had become overpowering.

***

"I don't do amputations, and I'm not a doctor." Stated a harried voice as I approached the counter in the front office. There was a steady source of sound from any number of clockwork creations lining the store, there had to be hundreds of the devices, of all shapes and sizes, humming and buzzing and steaming away.

"Well that's fine, but I'm not here for medical services, I need some repairs on a rare enchanted item."

"That so?" The source of the voice came forward, a smudge of grease prominent across her cheek and nose. She wore round spectacles, and a curly, white-streaked, royal purple mane was attempting to escape a bandanna tied behind her horn.

"One of a kind." I added.

She was impressively unimpressed. "You be astonished how often I hear that. Now hoof it over so I can see if it's worth my time."

"I can't..."

She looked annoyed. "Oh?"

"I'm wearing it."

"So take it off." I was obviously trying her patience.

"I'm afraid I can't." I turned to reveal the damage. I felt bad about it, as the mare blanched, retched, and looked liable to faint.

"Nope, nope nope nope. Nope. Nope. No."

"Please, you're the only pony who can help me!" I begged. "Trust me, you've never seen anything like this, it will be worth your time!"

She'd almost left the room, and so desperately, I cast about, grabbed a spare screwdriver that was laying out, and drove it towards one of my good legs.

The unicorn shrieked in anticipatory horror, and then stared in shock as the force field rebounded, the screwdriver ricocheting off into a corner.

"Okay, that was interesting." She admitted, stepping forward. "But what do you expect me to do about it?"

As I explained the general nature and function of the harness, she became more and more enthralled, examining the undamaged sections and observing the magical relays.

"Okay, so, it seems like it should be a fairly simple fix, just need to replace this missing stone and weave it back into the rest of the spell matrix. The problem is that I don't even recognize half of these types of magic, much less the specific spells involved. First things first, I need you to shut it down and take it off."

"I can't do that." I repeated.

She glared at me and explained. "First of all, I'm not touching that kind of magic while it's active. I may not know what it does, but I don't think I want it backfiring on me while I'm working on it. Secondly, if you really want to stand there while I solder and weld metal on your ass, so be it, but you'd better not flinch when you get burned."

"Indigo, it doesn't sound like you have much of a choice, why not let one other pony in on the secret, I'll watch her while you're out to insure there isn't any funny business." I was at a bit of a loss with Razzle's sudden outburst, and without waiting for my approval she explained. "Indigo's actually quite ill and the harness helps keep her alive. It was custom made for her and when she takes it off she loses consciousness, so she's pretty uneasy about anyone touching her while she's unable to resist." She flashed a conspiratorial look and added in an aside, “It's not easy being a mare in the wastelands, and she had a bad experience."

Tinker looked sympathetic and assured me gently. "I have only the purest professional interest in your harness, and I have no objections to the filly's observation while I work. Hopefully, it won't take too long."

I nodded contritely, impressed with Razzle's clever explanation, just enough truth to explain the situation, without giving away any of the most sensitive information. "So, how much do I owe you, and when do we start?"

"I can't give you an exact quote until I'm done, if I can fix it, I won't charge you if I can't. And as to when, I'll need to set up my equipment and prepare a work table to accommodate a fully grown mare. Give me about an hour, and I'll be ready with a more accurate quote."

"Okay, I'd better go inform the caravan, they didn't want to wait around too long. How long do you think the procedure itself will take?"

Tinker shrugged. "At least twenty minutes, maybe an hour, or two. I won't really know until I start working on it. I'm most uncertain about weaving the repairs into the spell matrix, it's delicate work, and as I mentioned, a lot of the magic is unfamiliar to me. If I may remind you the work is also potentially hazardous for me too, so I can't rush it, I don't want to lose another leg." She tugged up a sleeve of her house coat to reveal a gleaming bronze and gold limb of whirring clockwork.

"It's beautiful!" I replied. "D-do you mind if I take a closer look?"

The repairpony blushed. "Um, sure, I guess, thanks." She shrugged off her coat, and rested her leg on the counter while I examined it, admiring the intricacy of all the tiny moving parts, gears and pulleys adjusting seemingly on their own.

"This is a work of art." I proclaimed. "I mean, I can't imagine putting together something like this. It must have been a lot of work."

"Oh, well, it was..." She chuckled uneasily. "It didn't start out this way." She assured. "I started with a wooden peg. Then I made a jointed piece of wood. I have no idea how many I've gone through, either outgrowing, breaking or upgrading models over time. Took me at least a decade to figure out how to incorporate functional clockwork with the joints, and I've been fiddling with it ever since, and I'm not done yet. I'm pretty sure my prosthetics are a reasonable approximation of natural function, but of late I've been trying to surpass them, studying the cybernetics available and trying to determine how best to combine the technologies."

Razzle cleared her throat to inform us. "The caravan is leaving, Rusty says he'll join us after his contract expires with them, he'll meet up with us in Brayton. Sorry to interrupt your little game of 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours', but somepony needs to keep us on task."

I hadn't even noticed she had left, much less returned.

"I should probably go prep that table." Tinker stated, obviously uncomfortable with the filly's inappropriate comment.

"Let's go look around the marketplace." Razzle suggested cheerfully. "I saw some knives that caught my attention."

•••

I climbed onto the table trepidatiously, not just because I was liable to fall over onto the pile of sharp edged tools. My wing clipped an overhead lamp in the process as it was, but being here under this scrutiny, knowing someone would again be manipulating the very forces that tied me to existence, beyond my capacity to control or understand was terrifyingly similar to the first time. My grip on reality was tenuous at best, and at the moment visions, memories, feelings and sensations were rushing through my mind, confusing my perceptions as panic rose. My heart was hammering in my chest and my blood pressure spiked painfully. I started breathing sharply, on the verge of hyperventilating as my eyes blurred with tears. Mercifully, someone opened the clasp, and everything ceased to be.

***

I arose from the darkness in a frenzy, kicking, biting, screaming and bucking. As I calmed down, reassured by the regular flapping of my wingbeats that I was not, in fact, under attack, I felt a little sheepish. Guilt welled up as I landed, surveying the damage I had caused. My heart sank as I noticed the frightened gaze of two pairs of eyes peering out cautiously from behind a table and inside a cabinet respectively.

"I-I'm sorry." I stammered, a lump forming in my throat as tears trickled from my eyes. "I-I... I just... d-don't kn-know wh-what..."

"It's okay." Tinker coaxed gently, stepping slowly towards me. I noticed she was limping, a large hoof-shaped dent in her magnificently crafted leg. I collapsed on the floor sobbing, covering my face with my wretched killer's hooves, realizing how close I had come to murdering two ponies who had been nothing but helpful to me.

I bawled all the harder as they tried to reassure me that everything was okay. Eventually I calmed back down, clinging to the explanation that what I did was the fault of those who had hurt me, and that things could get better if I learned from this experience instead of blaming myself for it. Finally, an incessant itching managed to distract me from my despair. I looked at the soggy brown odiferous bandages on my leg reluctant for what came next. Underneath a fetid later of slime, the limb was whole and healthy, aside from a slight pins and needles sensation that normally followed a significant healing.

"So what do I owe you?" I had intimated from the weak vestiges of daylight slanting through the window that the weary mare had been working on me for several hours.

She laughed, almost a scoff, and ran a hoof through her mane. "Well first I'm going to need a stiff drink. Then I'm going to need help cleaning up the lab. I'll figure it out after that." She sighed. "At least you paid the deposit up front."

I was dismissed to clean away my refuse, and was permitted to join in for drinks after polishing my coat to a shine. I noticed my hooves hurt exceptionally in comparison to my recently healed leg, especially my opposite foreleg.

Tinker nodded as I mentioned it. "We're quadrupeds, we aren't meant to hobble around unsupported for too long, just like we can't stay bedridden indefinitely. I saw a client once who'd been hobbling along on three legs for so long the bone came through his hoof!" She took a long drink. "Can't really help somepony at that point." She muttered morosely. "In any case as to the business at hand, I have some questions. I understand you may not feel like sharing all the information, and that's fine, I respect that things have been done to you from which recovery may be difficult, even downright impossible, and I have a tremendous amount of admiration for your commitment to do good in the world, especially bringing up such a strong willed foal alone, given the average morality of Wasteland residents. But I want you to be honest with me, because there are a few things that I cannot ignore. First, I must state the obvious. You were not unconscious, you were dead. Don't bother to deny it I checked and verified your vitals, or rather lack thereof several times throughout the procedure. I have assisted in cases where a patient was in a medically induced coma, the deepest levels of unconsciousness possible, I've seen what levels a person can reach before they can be revived and I can state you were absolutely, verifiably well beyond any possible doubt irreconcilably dead. I was quite alarmed at first, as I hope you can imagine, and I thought the filly's bland insistence you were fine was just childish denial, until I realized she was fully aware and entirely unconcerned, at which point I was forced to conclude that this was not the first time she had seen you die." She took another long drink, seeming haunted. "I'll take your silence as confirmation." I nodded weakly. "Secondly, I'm not sure I want to know how it works. My leg, you might have guessed, harnesses my latent, and occasionally active, magic. I know pegasus have a bit of magic of their own, but even the most powerful of unicorns wouldn't be capable of powering all of your regeneration talismans alone, using their full concentration. This is nothing compared to the rest of your charms, from the shielding to all the ones I don't even recognize. You are extremely fortunate the gem that broke was a simple relay piece, easy to replace and not containing very difficult enchantments. Reintegrating it was a whole different story." She took another drink, obviously rattled.

"Whatever it is that's holding you together, it's dangerous, I'd even go so far as to call it evil. I have never seen such vile black magic, as that's the only thing it could be. I used to think that magic was simply a tool, that spells could be put to use for all manner of things, and evil acts were simply a matter of evil practitioners. I don't think that you're evil." She said, forestalling my evident discomfort. "But there is something terrible inside you, and I honestly think it's only a matter of time until it consumes you. Don't be too alarmed, I think you have it mostly under control for now, and it will likely take years for its corruption to destroy you." She shrugged.

"Though there's no accounting for the corruption of the wasteland itself. What I'm trying to say is, that when I first joined the relay stone back into the gem network, I thought I was just going to fit a few spells back together. I did not expect that several spells attempted to ... Seize me. It was like hands of darkness, reaching out and grasping at me, my magic... I didn't think I was going to escape at first, and it took almost everything I had to pull back out. Fortunately for you, the spell matrix was able to knit itself back together. I was afraid to do so much as monitor it from that point, fearful that the most cursory use of my magic near you would suck me back in. It was a while before I could do more than watch as your leg altered underneath the bandages, twisting, bulging and growing... Healing, but to my eyes I imagined mutation, corruption, defiling... It stopped eventually, and I'd gathered ahold of myself, but I consider it a blessing that I was so cautious about bringing you back. Razzle had commented on the fact you had been panicking when we put you down, and suggested it possible you would wake up in the same state. I don't blame you, I imagine wherever you were while you were gone, it probably wasn't unlike what I glimpsed when I disturbed the spells you're under, I'm not surprised you were lashing out like that." We were silent for a bit, then Tinker finished her drink, smiled ruefully and offered. "Well, guess it's time to start cleaning the lab."

She let us stay the night, mostly because as it was, it took until the wee hours of the morning to finish picking up the disarray. "Don't feel too bad." Tinker reassured the next day. "A lot of the mess was my own design, I don't think it's ever been this clean." The admission only assuaged my guilt somewhat, as I knew she had been rather upset about discarding several damaged devices into her scrap bins. Still we had done her something of a service, helping organize all of her tools and supplies into a more efficient order. "Now then," She added, after we had completed our primary business transactions. "I've noticed that you wear a pipbuck, but I don't think I've ever seen you use it."

"Oh, well that's because it's broken, at least the display, the geiger counter still works."

"I could fix that for you." Her eyes glittered with excitement.

"How much would that be?"

"Oh, no charge, I've just always wanted to pop one of those babies open, and most ponies treat theirs like children, and would die before taking them off. You also seem to have a more advanced model."

I was a little perplexed that she was so anxious to get her hooves on it, I knew they weren't terribly common, but they weren't exceptionally rare either. In any case, free was free and I'd love to have my data back. "Sounds good to me."

I swear she skipped back to her toolkit to dig out a small tool with a manual. She was humming as she removed the personal computing device, and it felt interesting to be without it. "I'll have it back to you by the end of the day." I suspected she didn't need that much time to effect the repairs, and I had a nagging fear she would dismantle it down to its basic components, but I knew that I couldn't trust a more talented set of hooves.

"Oh, and before I forget, Razzle had mentioned you wanted a lock for your harness clasp. I think it's a good idea, and I can probably make you one for, oh, about fifty caps or so." It was pricy, and we both knew it, we also both knew it would be worth the amount for Tinker's quality of work, and finally, we both knew I wasn't about to entrust any old locksmith with my secret.

"I'll have to think about it." I replied honestly. My caps were uncomfortably low, and we hadn't redeemed much for our extra ammo, and had decided to keep the bulk of the medical and food supplies, mostly for the benefit of Razzle who had managed to avoid serious injury with uncanny ability. Granted, her primary strategies included using me as a bullet sponge, avoiding all direct confrontation, and taking advantage of her size to become a more difficult target. It had been a tough decision to hand over the Zebra rifle to the filly, but it had less recoil and would be easier for her to train on.

It would have fetched a great deal of caps. I would of course keep Lucky's standard issue rifle. I was trained and more than competent in its use, so with a bit of maintenance and minor repair it would remain more than serviceable. I couldn't deny an attraction of sentimental value either, I probably was going to keep it until it fell apart, as much as I would with his armor. Pragmatically, I would upgrade as the opportunity presented itself, but they'd be cluttering the inventory in my saddlebags even after they'd inevitably fall to pieces.

At the end of the day, I'd decided that I couldn't afford not to purchase the lock. First, I got distracted by the renewed functionality of my pipbuck, Tinker explained that she'd needed to back up the data to a terminal and give the device a hardware factory reset, she mentioned the technical repairs, repairing a damaged circuit in the video processor, and elaborated for quite awhile on how difficult the decryption process was. I heard bits and pieces, but mostly I was absorbed into reviewing my music, video, and image files, organizing them into their respective folders.

I snapped back into awareness as Tinker informed me she needed to examine the clasp so as to properly fit the locking mechanism. I spread my wings and knelt to give her clearer access, struggling to keep from flinching at the invasive touching. I hadn't quite realized before now just how protective I was of my harness. It worried me a little, aside from some measure of understandable self defense, I realized there was a touch of unhealthy possessiveness. I remembered with a shudder what Tinker's pronouncement about the array earlier.

"All right, It should be ready tomorrow morning." She informed me cheerfully. I reached for my saddlebags to pay her. She laughed. "There's no need, your small companion paid me already."

I almost didn't recognize the filly when I saw her again, which was, indeed the point of the sleek, stealth camo barding she was wearing.

"What do you think?" She asked sweetly, drawing hooffulls of knives with a flourish.

"I think I don't appreciate you enough." I replied seriously.

"Aww, don't get all maudlin on me." She protested, though she was blushing cheerfully. "Besides," She added. "It's conditional."

"On what?" I was perplexed, uncertain what I had to give that I had not already offered the filly.

"I get the key."

It was an odd request, and I think my puzzlement showed. "Of course, I can't very well reach it myself."

Her eyes grew wide. She'd obviously expected some kind of resistance. "Does that mean... You trust me now?"

"Oh, honey..." I dropped down to meet her at eye level. "I've trusted you implicitly since I woke up in a strange stallions body to find you holding the smoking pistol that shot me." I pulled her into a hug, and remarked. "I just realized how bizarre that sounds."

"Indigo Breeze, you're an idiot." She groaned, but I could feel her squeeze back with enthusiasm.

"Anyway, I was thinking we should pitch camp outside of town, get used to living on the road, rather than getting spoiled to an inn and blowing all our caps."

"Seems reasonable." She agreed.

"Did you spend all yours, too?" I asked teasingly.

"Of course not, I know how to budget, unlike some ponies."

I laughed, and we headed out into the wasteland together, feeling more sure of myself than I had in a long time.

Being so close to the small village we were rather lackadaisical about our watches that night, mostly resting up from the night before and gathering our strength for the road ahead. Throughout my half hearted watch I worked on my philosophical papers, trying to elaborate on the individual elements of harmony, and see just how they reconnected as a whole. As I finished up for the night and went to sleep, I had a brilliant flash of insight, making a note to ask Tinker about it in the morning.

As things turned out she came to us, frantic and nervous. "I hope you didn't tell anyone else about your camping trip tonight, a band of Zebras came into town offering a bounty on your head. I don't know what you did or why, and I don't want to know, but you'd better get out of here before anyone starts looking for you in earnest."

"Who's Earnest?" Razzle asked blearily. I stood up and started packing my things away, the filly would pick up on the idea soon enough.

"I guess commissioning you for a printing press is out of the question then."

"A what? Why?"

I explained about my evangelistic intents while we tore down the camp. We would get a solid head start on our pursuers by virtue of flight, but it probably wouldn't be long for word to spread, and we wouldn't be able to show our faces anywhere resembling civilization.

"Well, I don't generally condone religious brainwashing, what you're trying to do sounds relatively harmless, and I can't argue that I don't appreciate regular paying customers, so I'll work over some designs, make some estimates, and when you're ready, send word and we'll work something out."

"I can't thank you enough, I just hope I don't put you through any additional trouble."

She laughed. "Trouble keeps things interesting. I haven't had this much intellectual stimulation in ages. But don't worry too much about me, I've been in worse straits than helping a couple fugitives out of town. Take care of yourselves."

"You too, I hope we do business again soon, and that it goes a little more smoothly next time."

And we took off, before the sun had even begun to think about rising. Since we were in fact fugitives now, we decided to strike out directly to the Bughole as we'd taken up calling it. Given what we knew about it, there was a pretty decent bet that they wouldn't be mobilized to turn me in, whoever they turned out to be.

I was fidgeting by the time we came close, it wasn't anxiety, but almost excitement, like the adrenaline before a fight, but without fear or dread. I probably should have felt those things, but I just was too damned curious about what came next. An old mule was tending to a small shed that proved to be the entrance of the mountainside mine shaft.

"Howdy there ladies." He greeted, grinning vacantly, hardly seeming to see us. He probably seemed affable, harmless to anypony's scrutiny, just an old slightly befuddled stallion. It was probably just the bartender's warning that was making me read into the old coot's eccentricities as sinister threats, but I felt strangely uneasy, like I could sense something I didn't know I could. It was like having a new kind of eyesight, or sense of smell and taste, I could just feel that something was amiss, that all was not as it seemed. "I suspect you're here about the job. We're a large company, handling infestations of pests all across the wastelands, so we're always open to new hires. Sometimes we send out agents on jobs that are improperly reported and instead of clearing out a few anthills they're devoured by fire breathing ants. The job is fairly straightforward, but occasionally unexpected things happen, being an exterminator is mostly routine, but you should always be alert, adaptable, and resourceful. Ingenuity is the most important trait an exterminator can have." His voice droned on in the most boring monotone I had ever heard. Razzle's expression had all but completely glazed over. He took a long wheezing breath, and then explained. "The first job you must achieve to prove you are company material is to destroy fifty bloat sprites in rapid succession. You will be evaluated based upon your time, efficiency and ingenuity. Style is a bonus." He smiled encouragingly. "We can start right away if you'd like, Ma'am, just step on through the hatch and you'll find your way through to the examination chamber presently. You'll know when the test begins." Razzle got up to follow and the mule brayed. "One examination applicant at a time! You can rejoin her after the test or you may attend your own next."

"Razzle, I'll be fine, I can handle this." I knelt down to hug her and whispered. "Keep an eye on things outside the examination room for me, I'm sure you can handle this."

"We both can, see you soon." She agreed. She waved as I walked through the door, looking for all the world like an innocent filly. Knowing how many knives were hidden on her, I didn't feel the slightest bit concerned. Perhaps I should have been.

***

I knew the test had started by the ominous buzzing. I didn't stop to think, I took off and flew to the top of the cavern using altitude to gain the high ground. The assault had begun as soon as the tunnel had opened up, and I activated SATs, targeting those most likely to hinder my assault. I like to think I was a pretty formidable sight, and I found myself wondering if anypony else had survived an onslaught like this, much less how. My shielding was almost opaque from the constant barrage of poisoned spikes, but my newly repaired pipbuck kept me on the offensive. I targeted and eliminated my enemies with single-minded focus. It became almost boring, with the combination of magical defenses and the military barding repelling every attack the bugs could enact. In the end I destroyed them with my bare hooves, stamping the last into the ground with a dive.

I looked around the chamber since the first time since I'd entered. At first I realized there were far more than fifty of them, for another, I could not see any means of surveillance, much less any observation decks or windows. I also realized there were no other exits. Finally, I spotted the bodies, from naked skeletons to relatively fresh carcasses, crawling with larvae. At that point, I turned on the spot and galloped back to the entrance. I was not surprised to find it barred from the outside. I slammed and kicked until the boards of the door came free from the nails holding them in place. The bar still remained slotted, and I reached a hoof through the door and removed it, the door frame collapsing without the sturdier board bracing it in place. I felt myself stamping my way over to the old shed champing at the bit.

It was of course deserted, a strange green ichor spread judiciously around the site, and a few of Razzle's knives were scattered across the floor or embedded in the wooden walls. I snorted, anger bubbling. I knew now that I was dealing with mass murderers, and if they were lucky, Razzle had already escaped. If I found her in anything less than pristine condition, I would make sure they knew the meaning of despair. Within the false calm of icy rage, I recovered her knives, I knew she would want them back. It didn't take me long to find an alternate entrance, clearly better traveled. I could feel a facial tic twitching, not quite at my eye and above my cheek. I brought my rifle to bear, and watched my EFS for the smallest flicker of red.

I was stunned at the rapid approach of a blue spot. I lowered my rifle to the side, and was surprised to see Razzle sobbing at my feet. "I was so scared! I thought I'd never get out of there, and I was lost..."

I slammed the small body against the wall. "Whatever you are, I know Razzle would never admit to fear if she knew somepony were watching. Razzle would not run down a hallway fearing she would get lost, and I most certainly know, when greeting me in such conditions, it would not be a heartfelt plea for help and comfort, she would curse, and tell me I was lazy for taking so long." My voice had dropped into a dry, strangely cheerful growl.

The imposter stated at me in terror, and its eyes were bulging, in no small part due to my hoof on its throat. Grinding my teeth, I let it drop to the ground.

"Now where is she?"

It was still crying, but silently, and pointed a hoof deeper down the tunnel.

"Show me, and if you even think about doing something tricksy, I will turn you into pulp." It nodded, trembling, and started walking.

The tunnels were definitely labyrinthine, and were it not for my pipbuck mapping the way with sonar, even I probably would have gotten lost, thrown off by the spiraling switchbacks and changes in elevation.

I can't say that I was surprised when I found myself entering a large chamber, coming face to face with an entire swarm of changelings. What did surprise me, was the fact that they all came up as blue dots. I also noticed large presses of some sort along the walls, bins full of scrap metal, and rolls of sheet metal. I was confused, and moreso by the poise of the queen who approached me.

"I apologize for the hardship you endured today, I'm afraid that not all of my swarm is properly trained in etiquette regarding visitors."

"That's a little strange, considering it looked like there were a number who were subjected to such hardship, as you say, who were not as fortunate as I was to escape it."

She laughed dismissively. "Those were just ponies."

"Yeah, they were. Living, breathing, thinking, feeling beings you decided to send to their deaths."

"Oh please, they don't all die, many are acceptable for harvest. Our bloatsprites are specially bred to be nonlethal. As the applicants succumb to the toxins, we are able to evaluate their capacity for love. Most of the wasteland's wanderers are drifters, loners and mercenaries who care about none other than themselves. Those who have attachments we keep, feeding from them, and we send out our people in their places, to feed from their loved ones."

"Why are you telling me this? Is it supposed to make me feel sympathetic to you murderers?" I shifted the rifle casually with my wing, contemplating my plan of action.

"I don't see how you can object, doesn't your hive function similarly?"

"My what?!"

"Your swarm, your family, how do you keep your children and drones fed?" She seemed genuinely interested.

"I eat food." I started to feel very uncomfortable, similar to stepping from an air conditioned room into stifling heat and oppressive humidity.

"Well who doesn't?" She scoffed. "But how do you maintain your power, I saw how you handled those sprites, no ordinary pegasus pony can use magic."

I wasn't sure how to respond to this, but decided to admit. "But I am just, albeit nonordinary, a pegasus pony."

The queen suddenly looked gravely concerned. "Oh dear, you've gone native. You poor soul, this will be very difficult for you." Her horn glowed, and I tensed in preparation for a fight. My body relaxed under a sudden wave of relief, warmth tingling across my skin. "You're a changeling. Moreover, you're a Queen, like me."

"No. No, I am Indigo Breeze, Shadowbolt Gust, High Priestess of the Heavenly Accord of Harmony." I insisted, but as I stepped forward, my hoof looked different, a curved horn floated above my vision, and there was a buzzing sound as my wings fluttered in agitation.

She smiled sadly. "I really am very sorry."

I sat down hard, looking at my lean, black carapaced form. "Why aren't I full of holes?" I asked, running my very solid hooves over my thick limbs. Hesitantly, I rubbed my equally smooth and whole horn.

"I don't know actually." She responded, regarding me with frank curiosity. "Only freshly hatched changelings come out so smooth."

"So I'm still different than you." I stood up, facing the queen more squarely. In addition to being more solid, I was taller than her, I had the sneaking suspicion I was more powerful than her to boot. I could see the dawning realization in her eyes as she realized the same thing.

"We don't have to fight." She stated, doing her best to remain formal, but I could hear the tremor of fear in her voice.

"Don't we?" I asked, my voice coldly level, and I realized that this was my killing voice, cheerful, friendly and cold. My smile felt very satisfying curving around my new overly large canine teeth. "Where's Razzle?" I could tell I didn't need to explain that her life depended on the answer.

"We don't have her, she got away after maiming old Jim." She stammered quickly, I could see that she was cowering, backing away. I pressed my advantage, although I was uncertain what I was going to do.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"Magic, changelings can connect to emotions, we don't hide secrets amongst ourselves. I'll show you!" Her horn sparked, and before I could react, I was swamped by her perspectives.

At the forefront was a vision of myself, bearing down with terrifying menace. I could feel her heart fluttering against her ribs, her breaths coming in short little gasps. I pulled away with a snort, a voice egged me on, telling me I needed to punish them, it was not their place to condemn ponies. I almost gave it credence, but its ferocity gave me pause, more focused on the pleasure of the fight than on the judgment of their crimes. I blinked, considering her perspective. I had been welcomed in, much as a long lost member of their family, they still had yet to show me any hostility, even the trial by bugs had not been meant to kill me. "What do you do with your captives, aside from feed on them?"

"Well, we take care of their needs, suspending them in an altered reality, using our abilities to convince them that they are living out their normal lives, and we feed while taking the form of their loved ones."

"Tell me more about feeding." I realized now the reality of the situation, I had no idea what it meant to be a changeling. I had no way of even knowing how long I had been one, it was entirely possible I had been since infancy, swapped out for the real Indigo Breeze as a filly, as changelings were said to do.

These were the only changelings I had ever seen or met, as far as I was aware. Who was my real family, where was my hive, if it even still survived? What right did I have to judge a species for surviving, for all I knew there were no alternatives. There was a faint concept of possibility surfacing in the back of my mind, tied in with the question of how I had managed to survive, ignorant of my true nature, and apparently better than ordinary changelings by virtue of my more substantial form.

She was visibly relieved that I had changed my demeanor, and seemed enthusiastic to oblige me. "Well, like I said, we can survive on ordinary food alone, and would starve without it, like any living creature, but to really live, we need the emotions of other beings to sustain us. Love, specifically is the most potent. We're all empathic, and a hive generally is attuned to the emotions of its queen. In times of famine, a queen can feed her hive from a personal reserve of emotion, and she can receive it in turn from her subjects, but this kind of closed, forced feeding inevitably drains the entire hive and can lead to death, although a hive in such dire straits usually dissolves first, underlings no longer being so tied to their weakened Queen." She paused, taking a breath and looking at me hopefully. "Does that answer your question?"

"Not yet. I need to know more about...us. How do queens differ from their underlings?"

"Oh, well, we are all born as underlings, after our first metamorphosis. In the terms of ponies, they are male. Underlings, although independently minded, are generally subservient to a queen, although any Queen has dominion over them. In the very rare occurrence that, as now, there are two Queens present, they remain neutral, until one or the other departs, or... Asserts herself as the leader." She looked petrified as she admitted this, and I took note, considering that this must be why all dots remained blue. "Queens go through a second metamorphosis, as you have. At this point they earn dominion over their underlings and become female. A newborn queen often stays with her mother for decades, learning our race’s secrets.

There is said to have been a third metamorphosis, but none have reached it since the legendary Queen Chrysalis, and the secret of triggering it has since been lost.

“Is that why we don’t have the peacock thingy on our heads?” I asked, gesturing where I felt it should have been.

“Pardon?” She asked, clearly very confused and a little put off.

“Y’know, like Chrysalis, she had a little peacocky/crown looking thingy.” I insisted. “A crest.”

She blinked slowly. “I suppose. Our hive doesn’t have any images of her. Where have you seen such images?”

I almost said Canterlot, but recalled Rusty’s descriptions of what had befallen that city, I wasn’t sure what would sound like a plausible excuse. “A history book?” I offered.

She looked hurt and confused. “Why are you lying to us?”

I had already forgotten what she’d just told me minutes before about changeling empathy. I coughed and shuffled my hooves. “It had been given to me as a top secret military briefing. A long time ago.” That much was truthful. I left out the details such as how long ago, or the fact I’d also seen her image plastered on newspapers as current events even earlier.

“There was once quite a stir about changeling spies, but it never proved to be anything more than a paranoid fear.”

“I see.” She remarked, eyeing me still more speculatively. “I hope I can learn more about your no doubt fantastic past to have come across such treasured mementos.”

“Don’t changelings keep any kind of history or records?”

She frowned, looking deflated. “Our kind did not have stables to prepare and preserve our culture in advance of the cataclysm. I doubt many species did. Our kind are rare in the world, remnants of a lost few who may have managed to infiltrate Stable security measures, or dug deep enough, far enough in time, to stockpile resources. We are said to be capable of long periods of hibernation, but I do not know how long such a slumber can safely last.”

Perhaps that was what had truly kept me alive, when it had seemed my pony body had rotted away over the centuries, no doubt my magical augmentation still had something to do with it, but my survival started to seem a little less absolutely spectacular, perhaps a little more plausible.

“I don’t know how much more I can stand to stay here and talk right now. I have a lot to think about.” I bit my lip. “And I need to go find Razzle...”

Author's Note

This chapter includes special guest star Purple Tinker

I figured that I should probably update again, even if I don't have much more ready to be uploaded yet.

This is the last pre-written completed chapter before I spaced, I have the plot beats for the next few chapters but I never fleshed them out and only have the barest ideas of the plot before I get to the stuff I actually figured out and got invested in telling.

Also I'm like two seasons behind so I don't know if my changeling lore resembles canon at all anymore, hopefully catching up on the show will give me some inspiration for the next couple of chapters.