A Shift In Gears

by BlackRoseRaven

Rating: everyone
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Changelings, Octavia, Science Fiction, DJ P0N-3
Length: 54022

Octavia Melody takes in a grievously injured Changeling and helps it find a new life in Equestria. A story about finding friendship, and finding yourself.

Commission for Ankaru.

Octavia wasn't always a musician: she had a past life that she rarely talks about, as part of an organization that researched and developed technology in secret under the watchful eye of Princess Celestia. A life she thought she had left behind; but when she comes across a severely-injured Changeling after the invasion of Canterlot, she feels both a desire to help the creature, and to challenge her own skills as a scientist.
But things become more complicated when Octavia realizes the Changeling is more than just a drone, and how it struggles between the safety of being just another Changeling in the crowd, and the desire to be its own person.

Published 2017-05-27 12:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2017-08-14 15:06:11 UTC

The Creature

Chapter One: The Creature

Octavia Melody had been enjoying a shopping trip in Canterlot with her roommate, Vinyl Scratch, when it happened: the first sign wasn't screaming or panic around them, but a moment of absolute silence. Ancient herd instinct took over in that breath, as bodies tensed, heads rose, and ears swiveled in the direction of the threat, the malicious energy that irradiated the air all around them.

And in that moment, eyes widened and shocked gazes turned to one-another, as they realized too late that they weren't safe here: that the herd itself had been infiltrated by the enemy, the predator, who now greedily unveiled itself on helpless prey-pony in that moment of paralysis.

Octavia stared in horror as the whole world erupted into chaos: it seemed like every second pony in the mall transformed in a flash of bizarre green magic into a hideous monster. They were bug-like and ferocious, leaping on ponies and binding them down or blasting them with toxic magic. They had fly-like wings and malformed horns and chitinous bodies; insectile mockeries of ponies full of holes and missing parts where they weren't twisted and corrupt.

Vinyl was standing, gaping stupidly, her sunglasses askew on her face, her red eyes full of fear. Unicorn or not, she had no way to defend herself from these monsters. And Octavia was only an earth pony, but unlike Vinyl, she understood that sometimes you just had to move.

Octavia seized Vinyl, mind working fast even as she yanked the unicorn quickly towards a stall full of t-shirts. Vinyl squawked as she was flung over the counter before Octavia followed, a moment before several of the bug-creatures tore by and knocked the racks of t-shirts over. Vinyl yelled and nearly leapt out from under the counter, but Octavia tackled her, covering her mouth with her hooves and the unicorn's body with her own: at least she had the weight advantage as an earth pony, but that didn't mean Vinyl's bony little body didn't still hurt like hell as she wiggled desperately under her.

“Quiet!” Octavia hissed, and Vinyl flinched under her before her eyes flicked back over her shoulder, wide and wild as they stared up at the mare.

But Octavia looked back, unflinching, hoping that her hard gaze made up for the frightened shaking of her body. An attack this brazen, this ferocious, wasn't something they could just try and run away from: if so many of them had infiltrated the city, that meant the castle had to be under attack, maybe up to the highest levels-

Something slammed into the counter, and both Octavia and Vinyl flinched, but the earth pony only hugged the unicorn under her tightly, not letting her do more than squirm. There were a few more bangs, but then another sound, a crashing, a smashing in the distance, and with a final bang against the counter, whatever had been there departed.

Vinyl waited all of five seconds before starting to wiggle nervously, but Octavia shook her head, holding her down and glaring at her. Vinyl tried to talk, but Octavia shook her head vehemently again: she knew if those monsters were out there, they could be looking for stragglers or survivors. Considering the intelligence, the structure behind their attack in spite of its ferocity, she had no doubt they were more than just dumb monsters that had wandered into Canterlot: if they were adept enough to mock ponies and infiltrate high society, then they were likely highly-coordinated and highly-capable. They couldn't underestimate the enemy's cunning or abilities.

They waited for almost thirty minutes, until most of the mall had settled into silence. It was never entirely quiet, Octavia reflected: there was a faint scratching in the distance, and a sound almost like dripping water.

Carefully, she slipped off Vinyl and wiggled through the mess of shirts and spilled racks to poke her head up: a moment later, Vinyl surfaced as well in the sea of shirts, looking wildly back and forth, and Octavia winced and grabbed her, pulling the unicorn down as she muttered: “I think it's safe, but keep your head – and your voice! – down, got it?”

“I'm not an idiot.” Vinyl snapped, a little louder than Octavia would have liked, but she immediately winced and covered her own mouth before reiterating in a hushed whisper: “I'm not an idiot.”

“I can see that.” Octavia replied, as her eyes nervously traced back and forth. There was a lot of surface damage, she saw: a lot of overturned displays, damaged walls, smashed windows, and here and there, scorch marks from defensive magic as well as strange green goo. She could see a few ponies had been glued down by that same substance: these ponies were either unconscious or clearly in some sort of daze...

Think. Octavia ordered herself, as she climbed out of the mess of the stall with Vinyl nervously following behind her. Where do we go?

“We need to get somewhere safe. We should head to-”

“The castle! I bet everyone's going there!” Vinyl exclaimed, and Octavia gave her a dry look.

“That's the worst place we could go right now. If this is an invasion-”

“Who says it's an invasion?” Vinyl snapped back. “What if it's not? What if it's just happening in the city? What if-”

“You can't just say 'what if' for everything, you need to look at this-” Octavia started, before she was cut off as a tremendous boom tore through the air, and even the earth pony felt the pulse of magic before she winced as it was followed by what felt almost like a wave of... warmth?

Canterlot shook with the force of the magic, whatever it was, but it was only a few moments before it was over, and silence fell. Octavia and Vinyl Scratch looked at each other, and then the unicorn turned and ran towards the nearest window, Octavia wincing as she stumbled into a gallop after the mare, resisting the urge to shout: who knew what that magic had done?

But as she joined Vinyl at the window, it became apparent that whatever had happened, it had driven off the invaders: there wasn't a single bug-creature in the city streets, and confused ponies were picking themselves up off the ground, whatever malign magic had paralyzed or snared them dissipated from that massive blast of magic that had torn through Canterlot.

Octavia frowned as Vinyl laughed in relief, shaking her head before she blurted out: “And you thought the Castle wasn't safe! I bet that was Celestia! I bet she just, like, whoosh, vamoo, blasted them all with the power of the sun and-”

“You're a unicorn, you should know better than me that was no simple spell.” Octavia said almost crossly, before she shook her head quickly, reminding herself that there was no point in arguing with Vinyl right now. “We should go down and see what happened. Even with as powerful as that magic is, I doubt that it-”

“I doubt your doubts. But yeah, let's get out of here.” Vinyl said, and then she looked quickly back and forth before carelessly jumping out the window onto a ramping stone wall, Octavia wincing as the unicorn half-skidded, half-cantered down it to hop off into the square, immediately shouting at the nearest ponies and running recklessly towards them.

Octavia scowled, then shook her head before she turned with a sigh to make her way down a level to the exit. But she found a hastily-made blockade in front of the main entrance, the mare grimacing a bit and hating that now she couldn't even complain about Vinyl's foolhardiness.

It made her a little nervous to be separated from her friend, however: even at the best of times, she didn't like being alone. And it bothered her that while it seemed like all the ponies outside had recovered, the ones she came across inside were still dazed, and the ones who had been snapped awake seemed confused, lethargic. The gooey binds the monsters had left behind also hadn't dissipated: she wondered if perhaps that wave of power wasn't capable of penetrating walls, and if that was the case, then maybe-

No, no. No thinking about that. She had to keep her head on her shoulders and concentrate on one thing at a time. If she came across enemy emplacements, she would deal with it then.

Octavia smiled faintly, looking back and forth as she headed towards the rear of the mall. It was funny, the way training stuck with you, the things that you remembered, did on instinct. She hit a corner, and she leaned against it before checking around it, quickly noting every point of entry before her eyes shifted to the broken doors leading out.

She stepped out into the hall, making her way towards the exit: she couldn't hear anything out of the ordinary, but she noted there were quite a few unconscious ponies here. The enemy likely set up a trap here for them: she only hoped that magic had either scattered them or driven them to ground. She had never been a fighter, even with all her training: she had always been part of the rear echelon.

The earth pony strode out into the lot in the mall's rear, frowning a bit as her eyes searched the area: she could see overturned carriages, damaged freight, and at the far side of the back lot, much more prominent wreckage: it looked like the scaffolding supporting a tower under construction had collapsed.

There was a small crowd gathered around the bottom of the tower: they sounded angry and afraid, Octavia thought. She frowned, approaching slowly and hesitantly, before her eyes widened slightly as she saw through the tattered ranks of ponies and her eyes locked on one of the bug-beasts that had invaded Canterlot. But in spite of how afraid the ponies circling the wreckage were, the creature was clearly harmless... no, helpless, Octavia thought, as she drew closer.

The creature was unconscious: more than that, it was trapped. The scaffolding and much of the brickwork it had been supporting had collapsed on top of the creature... and from the other limbs and green blood on the bricks, she was likely the luckiest of the beasts that had been caught in the rubble. A quick look at the wreckage, then at the open lot, and Octavia deduced what must have happened: that wave of magic hadn't affected the ponies, but it had ejected the monsters. Unfortunately for the creatures, not all of them had been out in the open, and that wave of magic had likely flung them into solid objects instead of simply flinging them out of Canterlot.

Octavia grimaced as she shouldered her way carefully through the crowd: the survivor's legs were clearly broken. Three of them were trapped under fallen brick; the last was just a mess, like it had been grabbed and pulled out into a long ribbon by some angry giant. She frowned deeper as she noted that what she had thought at first were gouges or holes seemed to be natural shapes in the creature's limbs... surely that didn't make their legs very stable. Was that why they had infiltrated?

A pony suddenly leapt forwards, shouting angrily: “I say we kill it!”

This was met by a rumble of agreement, and Octavia scowled, but hesitated to act: it wasn't like that pony could be serious, after all, and these monsters had attacked Canterlot: they were just monsters, right? They were bug-like, disgusting mockeries of ponies...

Octavia's eyes lingered on the fallen creature for a moment. A mockery of a pony, that was all it was. A bug-like body, but the same rough shape as her own kind, a twisted horn that was still a horn, closed eyes that twitched and clenched in clear pain as its lips curled back in little, unconscious whimpers-

The stallion who had spoken grabbed a rock and lifted it in his hooves, and before Octavia even realized she was moving, she leapt in front of the monster and snapped: “Stop!”

The pony stared at her incredulously, and then he snarled as he hefted the rock higher: “Why are you standing up for that thing? Are you one of them? Are you-”

The crowd shouted and roared, both with and against the pony, but Octavia didn't so much as glance at them, instead answering: “We don't know what these creatures are, or where they came from, or more importantly, if they'll come back! This is a live, crippled, harmless... whatever it is-”

“And there were a hundred others like it! But I'm gonna kill this one!” the pony argued angrily: but he wasn't angry, he was afraid, Octavia thought. Afraid of the monster, afraid of what had happened, afraid of what could happen.

Octavia didn't move, holding his gaze with her own: the stallion glared back at her challengingly, the rock lifted high over his head, reared back and balancing unsteadily on his hind hooves as he looked back at her, not quite daring to break eye contact.

But the rest of the crowd was growing agitated, some shouting, egging him on, others backing off or pleading to go home. Octavia knew that she couldn't keep him from doing something stupid for very long, but she had to do her best to at least try and stop him from killing this creature in cold blood. She understood the urge, more than he might imagine, but...

“It's not right.” Octavia said in a low voice, forcing him to focus on her, to work to listen, and hopefully, also encouraging him to calm down a little just so he could understand her. “That isn't justice. That is revenge. And these creatures weren't meant to be killed or perhaps even injured by that blast: do you really want to go against the will of the princesses?”

“Oh, what do you know?” growled the stallion, but he looked less sure now as his eyes shifted back and forth, squeezing the rock between his hooves before he gritted his teeth, turning in he direction of the pinned beast as he rose the chunk of concrete higher-

“Hey! What's going on here?” shouted a voice, and the stallion fumbled the rock and dropped it before falling on his side with a grunt, and Octavia looked up in relief as she saw a trio of Royal Guard approaching. The crowd naturally drew back from the soldiers, a few ponies stumbling hurriedly away, and the officer in charge wasted no time in ordering: “If you have no business here, then head home or to a shelter immediately! The city is in a state of emergency until further notice!”

The officer's eyes shifted to the rubble, and he tensed slightly as he locked on to the sight of the crushed creature, but before anypony could speak he added sharply: “Step back immediately. This creature will be taken into custody, we don't need any more violence.”

The stallion looked like he wanted to argue, but when the officer leaned towards him, he only grumbled and backed quickly off, shifting away with a last scowl at Octavia. Octavia sighed, then looked up as the officer stated shortly: “That includes you too, Miss. You-”

“I want to make a request to have this creature transferred to my care for research purposes.” Octavia said bluntly: she almost blurted it out, really, which was unlike her, but there was a chance here, she thought, that would never present itself again.

The officer scowled at her, but then Octavia slipped in closer and said in a lower voice: “I am a member of the Luciferin and I will place a formal request in later, but I need this matter expedited. The creature is going to die without urgent care and...”

Octavia thought quickly: the officer didn't look like he believed her and she didn't really have any plan. But this creature, whatever it was, was new and exciting and reminded her of why she had gotten into science in the first place...

Although as always, that stirred thoughts of why she had left that all behind to become a musician instead, as well.

Octavia bit her lip, then said suddenly: “Square Hammer. Square Hammer has a laboratory near here and I know him quite well. We can take the creature there to be examined and for emergency treatment. His lab is quite safe: he'll have all the precautions necessary to keep something of this nature... secure.”

The officer didn't look convinced, scowling a little before his eyes shifted to the monster: he clearly didn't care that much if it lived or died, either. Octavia could understand that: she barely understood her own desire to keep this creature alive.

So instead, she decided to try a different tactic, saying quietly: “The creature will be much more valuable alive than dead. It would be an excellent time to display quick thinking and leadership skills, to show that you can move quickly under pressure... to display grace. And what impresses the princesses more than grace under fire?”

The officer hesitated, then he nodded after a moment, looking quickly back and forth before he said shortly: “Get that wagon there. Soldiers, start digging that beast out. But don't hesitate to drop a rock on it if it does anything stupid, understood?” He turned his eyes back to Octavia, meeting her gaze evenly. “My soldiers come first.”

“I would expect nothing less.” Octavia answered politely, bowing her head to him before she turned quickly towards the wagon that the officer had indicated. She emptied the cargo out of the back, then pushed it over to where the Royal Guard were carefully extracting the creature from the rubble.

Octavia grimaced as she drew in close to examine the fallen monster: yes, she thought that her earlier estimation was correct. Its limbs were all but useless, and its wings were badly injured. The creature wasn't going to be able to go anywhere like this.

Her eyes roved up to its features, watching the way the creature's face worked. Its eyes half-opened every now and then, but it only took a few moments of observation for Octavia to reassure the nervous soldiers, as they removed the last of the fallen debris: “This thing isn't conscious. Lucky for all of us, really. I would hate to think of the pain it would be in otherwise.”

The officer grunted before he said shortly: “Then let's hope it doesn't wake up for all our sake. Percival, I want you pulling the cart. And you stay here,Worth. Keep the civvies away from here until the area can be quarantined.”

The soldiers saluted and quickly went about their duties as the officer rounded on Octavia, looking at her evenly before he said finally: “Lead the way. I expect if you really do know Square Hammer, you'll have no problem with the authorizations necessary.”

“None at all.” Octavia said unflinchingly, even if part of her was nervous that Square Hammer wasn't going to remember her... or maybe he wasn't even going to be in his labs at all. He was genius, but eccentric and unpredictable... she was just going to hope that his intellect and curiosity would outweigh his less-appealing traits.

Octavia opened her mouth, then winced when she heard the all-too-familiar voice of her roommate calling: “Hey, there you are! I was looking all over for you!”

Octavia looked awkwardly up as Vinyl trotted towards them, before she stopped and skidded to a halt with a wince as she saw the rubble, the green blood, the few bits and pieces of creature sticking out of the debris- “Oh that's gross. What the hell are you doing here? We need to like, get going, this is totally-”

“Excuse me for a moment.” Octavia said quickly to the officer, who looked less-than-thrilled with the mare. But the earth pony pulled Vinyl aside before he could say anything, the gray mare leaning in and muttering: “Please trust me on this. I have a bit of business to attend to here, and I'd appreciate it if-”

“Whoa, hey, no. Time out, what are you...” Vinyl slowly leaned to the side, staring at the wagon, before she watched as the unicorn officer slowly levitated the wounded monster into the air and floated it towards the transport, and the white mare reared back slightly as she blurted out: “Are you stealing a dead body?”

“I am not stealing a dead body!” Octavia snapped, in a slightly-louder voice than she meant to, but she quickly swallowed her frustrations before she took a slow breath, repeating patiently: “I am not stealing a dead body. We are taking one of these creatures for medical treatment to an old friend's. Someone from my... previous life.”

Vinyl's face scrunched up in that way it always did when she wanted to argue, but Octavia glared at her resolutely until the unicorn finally groaned and mumbled: “This is a horrible idea.”

“Just trust me on this. I'll meet you back at home. I shouldn't be more than a night.” Octavia said briskly as she turned and gestured quickly to the officer, and he nodded once before falling in line, leading the soldier pulling the cart as Octavia took the lead down the street.

But Vinyl shook her head vehemently, rushing up beside Octavia and saying flatly: “There's no way I'm just letting you leave. Besides, I ain't walking all the way back to Ponyville by myself. Your friend can just put us both up for the night.”

Octavia ground her teeth together, but she couldn't think of any possible way to force Vinyl to go home while completing all the other tasks she had given herself. She swore under her breath, but then only nodded shortly even as she said warningly: “But you must be on your best behavior, Vinyl. I don't want any fooling around.”

“Since when have I ever fooled around?” Vinyl complained with a huff, flicking her head down so she could glare over the top of her sunglasses at Octavia. Octavia only looked moodily back at the unicorn, and after a moment Vinyl awkwardly glanced away, mumbling: “You really never forget things, do you?”

“It's hard to forget things that happen every other week.” Octavia answered dryly, before she sighed as she turned her eyes back ahead, but she decided it was better not to say anything further. She had some idea what this was really about, after all: not just Vinyl being stubborn, but Vinyl's endless, incessant desire to learn about her 'past life...' Well, if she really wants to know, then fine. She can see for herself why I don't talk about it.

They didn't share much in the way of conversation, but thankfully, Square Hammer's laboratory was only a few blocks away: it was a squat, ugly-looking building with heavy security doors, but otherwise unremarkable. The Luciferin had always preferred to blend in as much as possible, however, to avoid drawing too much unwanted attention to their experiments...

Octavia Melody sighed as she motioned at the guard to wait at the sidewalk, then she started towards the door, before stopping and scowling pointedly when Vinyl tried to follow her. Vinyl stared at her blankly, then winced and scrambled backwards when Octavia pointed firmly back at the wagon.

The earth pony sighed, then turned and headed up to the door, hesitating for a moment before she collected herself, then pressed the button for the buzzer beside it. She winced as a panel snapped back almost immediately above the door, revealing a crystalline eye that glared at her, a voice snapping out: “What do you want?”

A pause, and then the voice sounded utterly delighted as it asked: “Ah, Melody! Is that really you out there? Oh, could it be, are you here on business from the Princess?”

“In a manner of speaking.” Octavia evaded, before she said: “Canterlot was just attacked by-”

“Oh? Was it?” interrupted Square Hammer. He sounded casually surprised at most, but then again, it wasn't like Octavia had really expected him to know or care about an attack on the city, so long as it didn't interrupt his precious experiments. A lot of the Lucferin were like that, really... “Griffins? Dragons? Demons would have been detected on my elliptical sensors so-”

“I don't know. I've never seen these creatures before. I brought one here for examination.” Octavia said, and the doors immediately banged open as Square Hammer crowed in delight.

“Oh, why didn't you say so in the first place! Come in, come in! You remember the way down to the lab, I'm sure!” Square Hammer said cheerfully, and before Octavia could argue, the panel snapped shut over the eye.

Octavia sighed, then she gestured at the officer as she explained: “Square Hammer has invited us down to his lab. I-”

“You're going to take this thing wherever it needs to go, and I'm going to report back to duty. If it dies, it's on you. If you're successful in figuring out what it is and extracting information from it... I trust you'll keep your end of the deal.” the officer steamrollered, gazing coldly down at her.

Octavia met his eyes fearlessly: she understood what he was saying, and more importantly, what he wasn't saying. “Very well.”

There wasn't really any need to say anything more than that: the officer eyed her for a moment longer, then grunted and turned, leaving with the soldier who had already unstrapped himself from the wagon. Vinyl stuck out her tongue childishly at their backs, but Octavia only rolled her eyes as she approached the wagon, saying: “Attach those straps to me, if you would. We need to get inside before Square Hammer locks us out.”

“Who is this Square Hammer guy, anyway?” Vinyl asked, even as her horn glowed and shoddily attached the straps to Octavia's body. Well, the knots would hold long enough for them to get inside, she figured, and that was all that really mattered.

“Square Hammer is a scientist. He's a little...” Octavia did her best to think up a good euphemism as she pulled the wagon forwards, Vinyl ambling along beside her. “Onerous, but-”

“Onerous. What does that even mean?” Vinyl asked as they crossed the threshold, before the unicorn squawked as the doors slammed shut behind them.

“You are one hundred and twenty-two seconds behind schedule, Melody!” barked Square Hammer from the speakers. “Hurry hurry hurry, in forty-eight seconds I'll have a table prepared for that creature, I have work to do!”

“Onerous.” Octavia said, rolling her eyes as she led the way across the sterile entrance hall to a set of elevator doors. They dinged open as she approached, and Octavia grimaced: it was going to be a tight squeeze.

Still, she, the wagon, and Vinyl all managed to fit inside, and the elevator promptly descended once they were on board, Vinyl wincing at the sudden drop but Octavia only scowling until they reached the bottom, where the doors slid open and they were greeted by: “Fourteen seconds, Melody!”

Octavia rolled her eyes, carefully backing up and pushing the cart behind her with a bit of help from Vinyl. “Enough, Square Hammer. This will be well worth your time.”

“I do hope so.” Square Hammer said grouchily as Octavia wheeled herself carefully around so she could face Square Hammer, as Vinyl stared dumbly around at the enormous open room the elevator had descended into.

Square Hammer huffed at her: the scruffy, small unicorn had a set of half-moon spectacles over his salt and pepper muzzle and a heavy silk robe: the richness of his clothing and the fact he was a unicorn made it look like mage wear, but Octavia knew it was just a bathrobe because Square Hammer was too absentminded and lazy to change into actual protective gear.

“Well, this way!” Square Hammer complained, as if it should have been self-evident. He turned and hurried down an aisle between shelves full of equipment, and Octavia scowled as she dragged the wagon after him: not at how narrow the path was, but rather at how annoying Square Hammer was already being. “You're running late! Time is an irreplaceable resource!”

“And haste makes more waste of it. We have the time to take, so let's spend it wisely.” Octavia retorted as she followed after the stallion, Vinyl scrambling along behind the wagon and still staring around at everything open-mouthed.

Square Hammer huffed as he gestured rudely at a metal examining table, replete with restraints they likely weren't going to need. Octavia drew the wagon up as close to the table as she could before carefully turning it around, and Square Hammer clucked his tongue as he leaned forwards eagerly, examining the body sprawled in the cart. “Oh my! Well, maybe this is worth waiting for after all. It looks like an evolved species of Hymenoptera Equus, probably part of the Formicidae family... and they attacked Canterlot, you say?”

“Yes, they were capable of mimicking ponies in both behavior and image. I don't know whether by transmogrification or illusion, however: I leave that to you to deduce.” Octavia answered, and Square Hammer brightened as he started forwards, but then scowled when Octavia stepped in front of him and added pointedly: “After we attend to the creature's wounds. A live subject is more valuable than a dead one.”

Square Hammer grumbled about it, but then he nodded grudgingly, sniffing disdainfully as he muttered: “I suppose, I suppose... only until we know more about its nature, of course. I would like to take a closer look at its insides once we've learned enough from it.”

“Gross.” Vinyl Scratch blurted, and both Octavia and Square Hammer looked up at her with irritation, the unicorn staring over her sunglasses at them before she quickly pushed them up, then pointed at the creature in the cart. “The thing is like, dying. Look, like... I don't know if it's crueler to keep it alive or put it out of its misery, just look at it.”

“Yes, true.” Square Hammer said meditatively as he pushed past Octavia, trotting over to the cart. He examined the creature quickly, then sniffed disdainfully as he picked up the creature's limp body in his magic, and Octavia grimaced and Vinyl squawked in horror when the stallion almost flung the creature onto the metal table.

The creature shifted with a moan of pain, eyes fluttering, opening to stare for a moment at nothing, before it slumped and twitched weakly. Square Hammer looked almost disappointed at this, then shrugged as he stepped forwards, and Octavia joined him on the other side of the table even as she chastised: “There's no need to cause any additional trauma. We want to maintain functionality.”

“Ha, as if the subject's functionality isn't already compromised. Look at these limbs, mangled utterly. Useless for examination.” Square Hammer paused, frowning in a thoughtful way that made Octavia nervous before he declared: “I think the best course of action is to remove the remaining limb.”

Octavia blinked as Vinyl gaped in horror before she snapped: “Tavi, this dude is crazy!”

“While I would prefer to couch my sentiments in more intelligent phrases, give me one good reason to believe Vinyl isn't right.” Octavia snapped, but what made her nervous was the fact that Square Hammer had that godawful look on his face that said he'd just had some genius idea and knew precisely how to convince her.

“Simple! The creature will never have proper mobility or functionality in this condition. To better observe the natural habits of the monster, I propose we outfit the creature with approximate synthetic limbs; prosthetic legs we design to be ratioed as close as possible to the actual organic limbs of the creature. Minus the damage, of course.”

Octavia scowled at this, then hesitated as she returned her eyes to the creature before she made a face when Square Hammer cajoled: “It's much easier to create when you have a sample model, now isn't it?”

Octavia gave the stallion a sour look, then grimaced as Vinyl asked disbelievingly: “Are you really thinking about whatever this lunatic's saying? Tavi, you don't even know-”

“Melody, I find it hard to believe that you've left all your genius behind to fritter away your time with... music sticks.” Square Hammer sniffed disdainfully as he shot Vinyl a scowl. “Look at this plebeian. Does she even know how a Fibonacci spiral works?”

“Hey!” Vinyl snapped, glowering back at the unicorn. “Do you even know how the art of-”

“Nothing you do is art.” sneered Square Hammer. “Banging noisemakers together is nothing compared to the majesty of-”

“Square Hammer, that's enough. Vinyl, please just... bear with me.” Octavia slowly rubbed at her temples, before she grimaced and looked up, saying curtly: “The creature's wounds need to be tended to first. If the creature is strong enough to survive the amputation and your facilities are adequate-”

“Are you seriously... what the hell are you talking about?” Vinyl burst out, but Square Hammer only smiled in that loathsome, frustrating way he had that told her he knew precisely that she had been going to agree.

“Vinyl, please just stay out of the way for now. I appreciate your input but our course is set.”

Octavia could feel Vinyl's shock, but she ignored it for now: she knew the best thing she could do was focus on what was right in front of her and hope that her actions spoke for themselves as she looked at Square Hammer, saying curtly: “Stabilize the creature. I want analysis running at all times. Your equipment, my rules.”

“Very well, Melody.” Square Hammer sniffed disdainfully and shook himself out, but then he became professional: it made him an entirely different stallion as his horn glowed, drawing several rolling tables of equipment towards them as he informed: “Initial readings are surprisingly stable. Recommending low doses of muscle relaxant to start with.”

“Check the creature's status. If we can't use local anesthetic we'll numb the nerves before we remove the limbs.” Octavia ordered as she moved into place, and it was just like she had never left as she surveyed the creature: she knew pony anatomy backwards and forwards, and in spite of how alien the monster looked overall, much of its structure was similar enough to a pony's that she was able to tell... “Minimal damage to the body. The carapace must have protected it. Shoulder seems intact...”

“Breathing regular, pulse regular, but slow. The creature is in a state similar to forced hibernation. Likely the only reason it survived the shock of the collapse.” Square Hammer paused, then leaned up suddenly, inspecting the face of the creature. Octavia ignored him as she continued to check the monster's body, before looking up in surprise when Square Hammer noted: “Ocular damage. What do you suggest?”

Octavia moved up to inspect the damaged eye as Square Hammer drew away to grab some of the equipment and prepare the tools they'd need: the earth pony scowled at what she found, muttering: “Damage looks like it came from within, not without... feedback, or pressure, perhaps?”

She could see the eyeball was moving freely, and there was more of that green, gooey substance that served as the creature's blood around it and inside the eye itself. She hesitated, then said almost abruptly: “We'll remove it. It won't be difficult to manufacture a new one.”

“Very well.” Square Hammer was already strapping down the creature's limbs and tying tourniquets, even as other instruments floated around the creature in the unicorn's magic grasp: if there was one thing the unicorn could do, it was multitask. “Perhaps it's braindead. There's not much in the way of mental activity.”

“No, the creature isn't showing reflex or responses, it simply isn't awake.” Octavia answered with a short shake of her head. “Let's-”

“What are you doing?” Vinyl probably meant to shout it, but it came out in a reedy half-howl that made Octavia wince and Square Hammer look up in disgust.

“Vinyl, please just be patient for a few minutes. This is... this is my old life. This is what I used to do.” Octavia turned towards the unicorn, half-frustrated and half-pleading. “I tried to warn you that-”

“Focus, Melody.” growled Square Hammer moodily. “Time is precious. Your friend can go wait upstairs if she's unable to comprehend her fortune in being permitted to witness this majesty.”

“You're sick.” Vinyl spat, before she shook her head, then grimaced at Octavia, pushing her sunglasses up and mumbling: “Yeah. I'm gonna wait... somewhere else, Tavi. Just... ugh.”

“Scratch...” Octavia said softly as her friend shivered and walked away, waving a hoof almost angrily. For a moment, the gray mare felt the impulse to chase after her, but she swallowed it down: that was stupid and emotional. There was no place for either of those things right now, as she turned sharply back towards the table instead, taking a quick moment to compose herself before she ordered: “Let's not waste any more time, you're right. We're going to fully remove each leg.”

Square Hammer only smiled before he returned his eyes to the creature in front of him, and the two went to work. And oh, Octavia couldn't deny that it gave her a thrill to be doing this sort of work again. To once more have the responsibility of a life under her hooves, to know that she would be taking this wounded, damaged thing and fixing it...

Yes, she had loved her work. Maybe that had been part of the problem, part of why she had left: because she had never wanted to turn into someone like Square Hammer, who saw only the experiment and the materials and forgot they were affecting real ponies and real lives.

At least this wasn't a pony. But it was still a living creature... and hostile invader or not, it had clearly suffered enough for its intrusion into Canterlot already. She could put it back together: perhaps it would be grateful to her for the assistance and it would make it easier to interrogate, or perhaps it was just like a wild animal, and giving it mechanical limbs that she could control would help in training it.

There were many possibilities, each more tantalizing than the last, but she also knew she had to be realistic about her expectations. As she calmly began to mark where they should cut on the limbs, tracing the invisible lines she had set in her mind, she couldn't help but smile all the same, though.

It was good to be back doing what she had been trained to do.

Vinyl Scratch was on her fifth cigarette when Octavia finally emerged, and the unicorn looked up, opened her mouth, but then only gaped at the sight of the mare, clad in a green-blood-stained apron, but smiling. The smile somehow made it so much worse.

Vinyl choked a little, then floated her cigarette to the side as she coughed loudly, hammering several times on her chest. Octavia frowned at her, but then only rolled her eyes and sighed, reprimanding: “You were the one who wanted to come. I warned you, Scratch. I warned you several times that it would be in your best interests to-”

“What the hell are you doing down there? Celestia, Octavia, who the hell is that Square Hammer dude, what the hell is going on?” Vinyl snapped back, and Octavia winced a bit before she bit her lip, eyes shifting away in that rare way they did when Octavia realized she was the one in the wrong for a change.

The earth pony shifted almost grudgingly as Vinyl Scratch glared at her over the top of her sunglasses, before Octavia finally sighed and said quietly: “You know I dislike talking about my former life. And it is precisely because of looks like that. I don't think... other ponies quite understand.”

“Dude, you're literally covered in blood and-”

“What I am doing is...” Octavia halted, biting her tongue and swallowing that flare of anger, Vinyl blinking and leaning away from the surprising outburst. The only time Octavia ever snapped at her like that was when they were arguing about music, something she was passionate about... “Scratch, for once, please, just be quiet and listen. Because for once, this is something very difficult for me to explain.”

Octavia looked almost pleadingly at Vinyl Scratch, and the unicorn mare grumbled before she finally dropped on her rump with a sigh, rolling her eyes once before she muttered: “Fine. But... you know, you better make it quick.”

Octavia smiled briefly, and then she licked her lips before she sighed and lowered her head, deciding that pussyfooting around the subject wouldn't help... and would probably go right over Vinyl's head, anyway. “I used to be part of an organization known as the Luciferin. We were on the cutting edge of science and technology in Equestria... our organization developed everything from the powderless firing system to many of the technologies you find present in any modern-day-”

“This isn't really explaining anything to me.” Vinyl interrupted, and Octavia glowered at her.

“Fine. I made golems and robots. Are you happy now?” Octavia asked sourly, and Vinyl gave her a disbelieving scowl, and Octavia sighed before continuing: “But my main field of expertise was developing prostheses. I worked with the military: I went through much of the same training as any field medic, but I never really served on the field or as a soldier. I was a scientist. You've seen some of the artificial limbs I've made, Vinyl, from the civilian models to ones intended for use by ponies reentering athletics or even combat.”

Vinyl stared for a few moments at Octavia, and then she snorted before saying dryly: “You play the cello. What do you know about anything more complicated than a bassline?”

Octavia's lips curled down in visible distaste, but then she closed her eyes before forcing herself to concentrate on the matter at hoof, not on Vinyl's outbursts. She was frustrated, that was all. That was understandable. “Music has always been my special talent. Specifically, rhythm and beat, which led to my interest in applied mathematics. Mathematics opened a doorway to the sciences: engineering, and other...”

She almost said 'puzzles,' because that was what she had been taught to think of all problems as. Puzzles, riddles, things with definitive solutions that could be worked out with enough poking and prodding. Nevermind if those 'puzzles' were also living beings...

It was a cold, logical mindset. And it was terribly hard to get out and terribly easy to fall back into, as she had learned while discussing the creature's status with Square Hammer. Even her compassion for it, the desire to keep it as pain free as possible, had become a 'puzzle,' a mathematical riddle: judging by the chemical resistance and the weight of the creature, precisely how much anesthesia would be required to keep the creature sedated while posing minimal risk to its biology due to it already being in a state resembling hibernation?

A fascinating riddle.

But she didn't expect other ponies to think so generously, or feel the same way about it. And she had to keep that in mind as she did her best to explain both her skills and fascinations to Vinyl, saying tactfully: “I'm... I was very interested in helping ponies by advancing robotics and cybernetics. But these fields also required sacrifices. Sacrifices that, in the end, I have never been comfortable making. So I stepped away from it.”

“Then what the hell are we doing here?” Vinyl asked, before she winced and looked up as she realized she was still holding her cigarette in telekinesis, awkwardly tossing the cylinder of ash off into the empty plant pot beside her. “Tavi, this is crazy. How do you expect me to just believe-”

“You don't have to. And furthermore, I can show you the fruits of our labors.” Octavia answered evenly, and Vinyl looked uneasily at Octavia. “You're welcome to stay up here and wait until we're completely finished as well, certainly, but since you seem so eager to intrude on this part of my life...”

“Intrude? Ouch, Tavi. That's harsh, even for you. Can you just cut the stiff upper lip crap for once and just like, talk to me?” Vinyl asked flatly, gesturing irritably at Octavia, and Octavia shifted a bit before she grumbled in agreement. Perhaps she was being a little unduly harsh, but...

The gray mare's eyes shifted a little to the side before she said softly: “It's hard, Scratch. I didn't want anyone to know about this. I never thought I would give in to the urge to return to this life. I don't even know why I'm doing this, but I also know an opportunity like this may never come again and this is what my skills were meant for. I... just come and see what we've done so far. I assure you, the worst of it is over.”

Vinyl Scratch looked uneasily for a few moments at the stained apron Octavia was wearing, and then she sighed before standing up, looking over the top of her sunglasses and saying bluntly: “We're gonna have a long talk after this.”

Octavia only smiled wryly, then she shrugged a bit before she turned and headed back into the elevator. Vinyl Scratch followed her after a moment, biting her lip, but just as she opened her mouth to speak, the doors shut and the elevator plunged downward, and the unicorn only wheezed and flinched. That was fine, though: Octavia would prefer to save the heartwarming friendship moments for later.

The doors opened, and Octavia led the way out, Vinyl following nervously into Square Hammer's laboratory. They made their way across the expansive workroom to a door that led into a makeshift operating room: it was only an isolated workroom, but Square Hammer had quickly sterilized it and the instruments they had required, and it had served well enough for their intentions.

They entered, and Octavia quietly closed the door as Vinyl nervously approached the makeshift operating table. Square Hammer ignored her, and Vinyl's attention was too taken up by the creature on the table to stare at him for long, as she whispered: “Holy hell, Tavi.”

The creature was sleeping peacefully, electrodes across its body monitoring its life signs, a small machine beeping quietly away. It was missing all four limbs, but in their place were polished metal... sockets? “What the hell have you done to it?”

“We removed the creature's limbs. Three were damaged beyond repair, and the last leg would not have functioned well enough on its own to merit remaining. Those connectors are the first step to giving the creature new, mechanical limbs... making it better than it was before.” Octavia strode over to where Square Hammer was working at another small table, gesturing at the simple device he was assembling, and Vinyl frowned before her eyes widened as she realized what it was: a thin, prosthetic limb. “First we will give the creature these simple limbs. But if it merits it, in time, we will progress to more advanced prostheses. The designs are already clear in my mind and I am...”

Octavia halted, then she shook her head before smiling at Vinyl, and she looked both excited and haunted in that moment. “Don't you understand? It's like finding a new beat, discovering a new medley that can be made, how different songs can be fused into one. If I can give this creature the ability to walk again, perhaps in time these methods can be applied to any pony: and from this creature, who knows what we might learn?”

“Oh, yes. That reminds me.” Square Hammer said abruptly, glancing up, and Octavia scowled over her shoulder as Vinyl grimaced and looked away for a moment, then sharply turned towards the unicorn when he said casually: “Celestia wishes to remain informed. There are a few of these... Changelings, they call them, under Luciferin watch. But I believe we are the furthest along in our project so far. It's good to be ahead, Melody! It's a shame you left the Luciferin for your silly music.”

“I wanted to avoid being consumed by it. And I will not... be consumed by this.” Octavia muttered, shaking her head briefly before she nodded once. “I will eagerly await what the other Luciferin have to say, then. I hope they show mercy to these... Changelings.”

Octavia turned a meditative look back at the creature on the table as Square Hammer snorted, and Vinyl Scratch grimaced as she shifted uneasily, biting her lip. But no one said anything: Vinyl struggled to process all these new, strange things she was learning about her roommate, and Square Hammer was focused solely on his work.

And Octavia Melody stared at the Changeling she had adopted, murmuring that word again as she studied the strange, pony-like creature, how similar it was, and yet how different; how beautifully the metal already meshed with its chitinous body, and how much promise these experiments already had.

And yet part of her hesitated, as she remembered the old adage: that those who played with the devil's toys would be brought by degrees to wield his sword.

For The Greater Good

Chapter Two: For The Greater Good

The Changeling breathed slowly, eyes opening and closing lethargically, but not yet processing anything. The Changeling felt fuzzy, confused, dazed, and it couldn't hear the voice of the hive. It was such an alien feeling; it was such a lonely feeling.

The Changeling tried to move its limbs, but they refused. They felt cold. They felt numb. They felt like they weren't even there at all.

It could hear a voice: who had captured it? They weren't Changelings. This wasn't the hive, this wasn't a burrow, this wasn't a hideout or a safehouse. The Changeling's eyes opened and closed, and its mouth moved, and it knew it should try and hide these things, but it was so hard without the guidance of the Queen or the hive, and everything was in disarray and what a mess it had all become...

The creature grimaced a bit, before it stilled itself and calmed itself down when the voice drew nearer, going back to laying flat and still on the table, regulating its breathing. In, one-two-three... out, one-two-three. Repeat. Stay calm. Remember training, trust that natural instinct.

But why couldn't it feel any of its legs? Why was its vision so blurry? Why did its head hurt so much? Oh, why was it so hard to think?

“We have codenamed the subject Metamorph and have tentatively identified it as a drone member of the Changeling family.” came a male voice, and the Changeling heard the distinct steps of a stallion walking slowly around the table it was on. “The subject appears to be male and exhibits some advanced intelligence and logical behaviors. Melody, your observations?”

The Changeling was surprised to hear a faint shifting before it realized there was a second pony in the room. Had it been here the whole time? “The subject appears to be in some distress, and seems unaware of the changes to its physiology. The subject is fluent in common Equestrian and demonstrates a conscious and subconscious use of language that implies this goes beyond simple mockery. Comparing these findings with the data supplied by others suggests that these Changelings are a highly-competent, extremely advanced hive society similar to the F. Polyrhacequus, but far more capable of logical reasoning and adaptive behaviors. It has yet to be determined if the subject retains the capacity for communication or interaction.”

The Changeling tried to hide its trembling: it was so hard to process what they were saying, but it sounded to the creature like it had ended up in some kind of laboratory. What were they going to do to it? Oh, it had known this was a bad idea! These ponies had seemed so nice on the outside, but no one knew better than a Changeling that a smile and a pretty face almost always hid bad intentions.

Was this the real face of the ponies? Queen Chrysalis had said it would be easy, that she herself had infiltrated to the very top of the Kingdom, that the ponies were soft and full of the love and emotions they needed to survive! They had never expected or prepared for any real resistance, and when that blast of... of power had hit, they had been thrown to the wind like chaff...

And now here this lowly infiltrator was, caught in the grip of the enemy. It was no wonder it couldn't think or feel its limbs: they must have done something to it. Made it confused, made it hard to think, broken the link to the hive. It could barely wiggle its body, yet it couldn't feel any restraints: they must have drugged it.

It was helpless.

The Changeling did its best to keep quiet, but a faint whimper escaped its muzzle all the same. The stallion paused in his steps, then said, frighteningly casual: “I think a probe would be more effective than telepathic reading or truth serum, it has some natural resistance against both. But if we inserted a jack directly into its brain-”

“No, Square Hammer. That will not be necessary. I am not concerned that the creature will lie to us. Will you, creature?” asked the mare, and the Changeling trembled a little on the table, but it couldn't stop itself from opening its eyes, looking at the blurry shape of a gray pony. She was standing beside it, and the fuzziness in its head made it seem like she towered over him, all the way up into a vast black void that her voice echoed out of: “After all, our allies have already provided plenty of information to us from the interrogations and examinations that have been completed on other Changelings. It would be reckless and foolish not to cooperate with us.”

The Changeling squirmed on the table, and that was precisely what Octavia had hoped to see. The reaction told her many things: not just that it was awake and listening to them, but that it was intelligent, it understood tone and implication, it could be reasoned with; it could be frightened.

That meant it could be controlled.

Octavia measured the Changeling with her eyes for a few moments, then she looked up at Square Hammer, and the unicorn smiled at her kindly as he floated his recording device back towards his face, saying politely: “Whenever you're ready, Melody, we can begin the interrogation of the subject.”

“Very well.” Octavia said evenly, before her eyes flicked down to the Changeling, studying it. She watched as it opened its eyes: was it even aware of the damage to its vision, or that one of its eyes had been removed, and replaced with a synthetic eye likely more suited to pony than Changeling? How would it react when she activated that prosthesis?

There was no time like the present to find out, she thought: furthermore, it would inform her the best way to approach the subject: whether she should try and earn its trust, or make it afraid of her, and afraid of the consequences of lying to her.

Octavia reached down and pressed a button on the side of the table, and the Changeling flinched before blinking rapidly several times, as its vision likely began to clear. But it still seemed confused. That was fine, though: the less coherent it was, the better.

Octavia studied the Changeling, and the Changeling stared back at her, blinking slowly as its electric eye shone in its socket: she had yet to apply the film that would mask the brightness of that light and hide the blurry glass from view, but it didn't disturb her: if anything, it pleased her to watch as the mechanical eye shifted and moved in perfect time with the real one, as the camera pupil focused and unfocused.

The Changeling tried to shift, but it couldn't move: not with the vices locked around the steel sockets that had replaced its broken limbs. Cables ran in and out of these: not just so they could monitor data gathered by the machinery that had been implanted throughout the Changeling's body, but so if necessary, they could administer a powerful electrical shock. They weren't taking any chances with this creature, even if it was clearly at their mercy for the moment.

The mare studied the Changeling for a few moments, then she asked: “What is your name?”

The Changeling looked up at her, only staring at her: Octavia looked patiently back, before her eyes flicked up with a grimace as Square Hammer remarked: “Perhaps we could apply a bit of stimulation to the subject. It may make it more pliant.”

“No. That will not be necessary, Square Hammer.” Octavia said pointedly, and Square Hammer grumbled, but then nodded and backed off slightly, even as he eyed the control buttons on the side of the table almost longingly. But that didn't surprise her, of course: Square Hammer had always been fondest of the direct method. Sometimes, however, hammering down a nail just because it was sticking out did more damage than it was worth...

“My name is Octavia Melody. I am a researcher. You were grievously injured and we have taken it upon ourselves to do what we can to mend the damages done to you, but it would be easier if you would assist us.” Octavia said as gently as she could, and the Changeling trembled as it tried to move.

It didn't seem to want to look down, however: maybe it couldn't. Considering the fact it had been buried under a building, the creature's recovery over the course of the last twenty hours had been stupendous. On the other hoof, they were polymorphic creatures well versed in the art of transformation: she had little doubt that its natural magical abilities had aided greatly in its recuperation.

Octavia waited as patiently as she could, and then she repeated: “What is your name? Let's try and start off on the right hoof.”

“Moonbeam.” the Changeling said finally: that sounded like a pony name to Octavia: a female pony name at that, even though they knew this creature was male. “My name is... they told me to call myself Moonbeam.”

“Well, Moonbeam, I'm glad you spoke up. I think calling you Moonbeam is much nicer than calling you Metamorph, isn't it?” Octavia said, and the Changeling shifted uneasily, as if it sensed Octavia's hesitance to believe it. But for now, Octavia let the name slide: there was no point in pressing such a trivial issue. “Moonbeam, we know why the Changelings invaded and what their purpose here was. How long have you been here?”

The Changeling named Moonbeam bit its lip, then it said reluctantly: “I... I've been here for a long time now. They send in scouts first, to make sure that we can... feed and assimilate. They chose a pony for me, and I took on her memories, her emotions, and then came here to Canterlot. I don't know what happened to her. I don't know much at all. I wasn't here to hurt anyone, I was just here to make sure we could blend in, that's all!”

Octavia frowned, then looked up as Square Hammer noted thoughtfully: “Perhaps we should check the missing ponies database.”

Octavia opened her mouth, then slowly closed it: that was an interesting thought. Maybe if they cross-referenced the national missing ponies list with recent arrivals to Canterlot, they might be able to figure out the identities of other Changelings who may have gone back into hiding...

“When you mimic the form of another pony, does it require advanced preparation, or can it be done sporadically? Do you require an actual subject to leech from or are you capable of assuming any form you desire?” asked Square Hammer.

“Well, we can change our shapes to match most things...” The Changeling shifted uneasily, clearly not knowing what to say: Octavia imagined that these creatures had been trained from birth to keep as many secrets as possible, and yet that training was currently warring with both a desire to stay alive and the knowledge that they already had interrogated other Changelings successfully... which meant... “We can only change into things of equal mass, though. We can rearrange our bodies and change our form, but it's much harder to change our size. We can only do it to a limited extent.”

Square Hammer looked thoughtful for a moment, then he nodded to himself as he turned and picked up a clipboard, beginning to jot calculations over it. Octavia ignored him as she leaned over the Changeling, then she asked quietly: “Are you aware of the damage that was done to your body?”

For a few moments, the creature only shifted uneasily, and then it looked up and said weakly: “I can't move my legs. Am I...”

“You were not paralyzed, but all four of your legs were badly injured. We had to remove them.” Octavia said: it was better to lie at this point, she thought. She needed the creature to trust her, after all. She couldn't risk it getting upset over something it wouldn't understand. “We have created prosthetic limbs for you that will function adequately.”

The Changeling stared up at her blankly, confused, clearly not knowing what to say or how to react, before it shifted and looked away as its eyes filled with tears. Octavia watched it all clinically, detached and logical: if she felt anything at all, it was surprise that this creature was acting so emotional in the first place. The reports they had gotten about the Changelings varied greatly: some of the drones seemed almost emotionless, others had shown exaggerated emotions... it requires further research.

Square Hammer slid around the table, then leaned over to Octavia and muttered in her ear: “Before you turn into a bleeding heart on me, Melody, the creature may be faking its emotions. Do not forget that-”

“I am aware, Square Hammer. I'm watching the readings.” Octavia said pettishly, gesturing with her head towards the beeping machine at one side of the Changeling: the monitor showed a slightly-elevated heartrate and some fluctuations that could indicate stress, but she was well-aware that could also be from the exertion of trying to falsify those same emotions.

Square Hammer huffed, then said moodily in her ear, just over the chuffling sobs of the creature: “I would much prefer you watch yourself, Melody. I don't care if this creature has emotions or not, beyond scientific interest: it shouldn't make any difference to you, either, how much emotion or pain or anything that this creature has.”

“Our goals are different, Square Hammer. If the creature is in physical distress, then it is my duty to relieve it as much as possible; or rather, at least that which is caused by the prostheses. Furthermore, as you've apparently never learned, we will learn more from the creature by at least pretending that we can treat it civilly, Square Hammer.” Octavia answered in a low voice, her eyes glaring down into the unicorn's.

Square Hammer glowered back up at her, then he finally sniffed disdainfully before shrugging and turning his eyes back to the Changeling as it whimpered: “I... what happened? I don't remember what happened and I can't feel the hive...”

The unicorn gestured irritably at Octavia, and Octavia gave him a sour look, but then answered as gently as she could: “You were trapped beneath a building for some time. Your injuries were nearly fatal. Your telepathic link may have been severed in the blast.”

Did she ask for further explanation, or did she pretend she knew all about whatever the Changeling was talking about? Was that how they received orders, or was it simply a way for them to identify each other? Was it a literal hive mind, or something more subtle, like a constant call from home?

No, it was a better idea to pretend she knew and to sweep past for now. Let it be subtle: it was like composing a song. You wanted them to be drawn in by the energy and sound, but you wanted them to listen to the story hidden under the melody.

“I know this will take adjustment. But you have my word that our goal is not to cause you undue distress: quite the opposite. We wish to learn more about you and your species, and in return for your cooperation, you will be set free, in time.” Octavia lied bluntly.

The Changeling trembled, turning back towards her, and Octavia felt a tickling: they knew these creatures fed on emotional energy. Did that mean it could detect her lies? She only hoped that they relied heavily on their telepathic vampirism: perhaps that would mean its own natural acuity would be underdeveloped, in which case it would be easier to manipulate the Changeling and ensure it remained compliant.

The creature stared at her, and then it shook its head before it trembled as it finally made itself look down: it clearly took a monumental effort, both physically and mentally, and it moaned weakly as it saw its limbs were missing: in their place there were only the sockets, held tightly in vises, from which wires spilled. The Changeling let its head drop back on the metal table with a gasp, panting roughly, and Octavia's eyes flicked to the readings: accelerated heartrate, blood pressure rising... “You need some time to process. Square Hammer, administer a sedative.”

“I... I don't...” the Changeling started, but then it winced when Square Hammer pressed a device to the side of its neck before pulling the trigger, and it felt a short spark of pain before shivering as a heat spread through its veins, whispering: “I just want to go home...”

The Changeling fidgeted, but Square Hammer and Octavia were already walking to the door of the isolation chamber. The moment they were outside, Octavia asked: “What do you know about the telepathic link?”

“Very little so far. Dissections of several Changelings exhibited differences in the frontal lobe between different drones: some – other scouts such as Metamorph, I would wager – had more developed frontal lobes. The telepathic link may provide instruction where instinct fails: a collective knowledge base, one more often used by the lesser Changeling drones than these more-developed ones.”

Octavia looked for a moment at Square Hammer, then she gave a wry smile. “You don't always need an answer, Square Hammer.”

“There is an answer to every question, Melody, and I will find as many of them as I can.” answered Square Hammer haughtily, glowering at the mare before he added shortly: “Dissection would be a much quicker process towards achieving our answers than 'being nice.'”

“Dissection cannot tell us about the creature's personality, habits, or culture. Nor will it inform us how well the prostheses work and how the creature adapts with them. Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Square Hammer.” Octavia retorted, and Square Hammer grumbled and rolled his eyes before Octavia said quietly: “When our research is completed, it is up to Princess Celestia what we do with the creature. The Luciferin exist because of her generosity, and-”

“Oh, spare me.” Square Hammer snorted in disgust as he turned away, but he only tapped a hoof against the ground before he said abruptly: “If you are so concerned with your prostheses, we should install your Type I on the creature as soon as possible. Perhaps this will also aid in earning its trust, since you seem to desire wasting the time and effort on compliance through kindness rather than force.”

“I merely see violence and intimidation as unnecessary. We will gain more from it if it opens up to us willingly, rather than because every time you suspect it is lying, you electrocute it.” Octavia snorted. “In that event, it will merely begin to tell us whatever it thinks we want to hear: it will adapt to our cruelty like a beaten dog.”

“Yes, and it won't abuse our kindness at all.” shot back Square Hammer, and Octavia scowled at him before the stallion suggested: “Perhaps we should indulge in what the common folk describe as 'good cop, bad cop?' You will concentrate on positive interactions, and I will use negative reinforcement to push the subject. It should at least allow us to create a psychological profile of Metamorph.”

“Moonbeam.” Octavia corrected before she could stop herself, and Square Hammer snorted at her. Octavia frowned slightly herself: why had she bothered to correct Square Hammer on the subject's name? But she shrugged it off with: “Moonbeam, it called itself. We confirmed it was male during examination, however. Why use a female name? Why copy a mare instead of a stallion?”

Square Hammer went from scowling to thoughtful at this, shrugging after a moment before he suggested: “Perhaps their sexual characteristics are meaningless to them. Perhaps only certain members of the species have the capability of reproducing, and thus sexuality or a need for division between genders lost on them. It will take more research.”

Octavia's muzzle wrinkled slightly, and Square Hammer snorted in disdain before he continued: “Furthermore, the creatures may not have 'names,' as we do. Names are merely a method of identification that feels 'personal' to us because of our culture. If they are subservient and lack family units, but instead are taken care of by the hive until they become mature enough to assume the duties given to them by their matriarch, they may simply progress from 'that larva' to 'that drone.'”

“A fair point.” Octavia acknowledged after a moment with a brief nod. Maybe she was giving the creature too much personality, these drones too much culture and personification. It was possible that while they were an intelligent race, they had not evolved socially or culturally from their insect roots.

As the earth pony reflected on this, Square Hammer turned his eyes back towards the door, saying after a moment: “By now, the drug should have taken effect. Shall we, Melody?”

Octavia hesitated for a moment, and then she gave a short nod, answering: “Very well. Please show some restraint, though, Square Hammer.”

The unicorn only snorted at her, and then the two turned back to the door and let themselves in: as expected, the Changeling seemed lethargic but aware, and Octavia couldn't help but smile a little. They were learning about their biology. They had calculated the sedative correctly for what they were aiming to achieve: diminished awareness, likely lowered inhibitions. In other words, it would be easier to get the information they wanted out of it.

Octavia mused for a moment on how she should approach the Changeling: should she refer to it as male or female, or just use its name? But before she could think too heavily on the subject, Square Hammer strode over to the table and pressed a button on the underside of it, and the Changeling gasped as a surge of electricity zapped across it. “Wake up!”

“Square Hammer!” Octavia snapped, and Square Hammer gave her an innocent smile that she completely ignored as she strode quickly towards him. The Changeling whimpered, half-turning towards her as Octavia said icily: “There is no need for that. Give... Moonbeam... a chance to cooperate.”

“Very well. If you insist on wasting time.” Square Hammer waved her off, and Octavia couldn't tell if it was actual irritation or the stallion putting on a show. Either way, he seemed to be enjoying himself more than he should.

Octavia looked at the Changeling, studying it for a few moments: it looked afraid. It was whimpering, trying to move, helpless: even if they didn't have it bound to the table, it wouldn't have been able to do anything with its injuries and missing its limbs.

The earth pony softened ever so slightly, and then she gave a short sigh before she said quietly: “Moonbeam. I want to help in any way I can. I imagine we haven't made the best impression on you so far, so... allow me to at least offer you this. I can restore your mobility and we can move you to something a little nicer than a steel table in an isolation room. We have a small apartment set up for you. I think you'll like it. You can walk there yourself.”

“H-How?” the Changeling trembled pitifully, and it shuddered against the bindings holding its sockets. “My legs are... they're... they're gone.”

The Changeling stared down at itself, and Octavia was reminded of the soldiers, the ponies, the clients she'd had in the past, and how she'd looked at all of them as just experiments. But no, they were living, breathing, actual people, who all had suffered enormously, and...

Octavia pushed those thoughts away. Why was she thinking like this was a person? It wasn't a pony. It was a monster. Furthermore, a monster that preyed on the weak and vulnerable by manipulating them and devouring their emotions. Why should she feel bad about doing what was necessary?

The earth pony shook her head quickly, and then she stepped forward and said gently: “You will have to relearn some things, but we can provide you with prosthetic limbs. These should be more than sufficient to give you some independence.”

“I... why would you do that for me, though?” the Changeling asked, confused, before it trembled and asked: “What do you mean? Am I some sort of experiment?”

Octavia began to open her mouth, but Square Hammer cut in rudely: “Yes. That's all I consider you to be. It would do you well to remember where we stand with this creature, Melody, instead of constantly trying to make friends with it.”

Octavia turned a moody look towards Square Hammer before she said evenly: “Moonbeam does not need to suffer. We can ease her pain.”

“His.” Square Hammer corrected pettishly.

“Her.” Octavia argued, not sure if she was doing it because the Changeling had identified itself by a female name, or because she hated it when someone tried to correct her.

“His!”

“Her!”

The Changeling whimpered a little, and Octavia rubbed at her head in frustration before she looked up and started: “Let's attach the limbs and-”

The Changeling whimpered again, and Octavia glared at it before she could stop herself, then grimaced and quickly smoothed her expression out. She took a short breath as the Changeling flinched a little and looked at her fearfully: almost like a child, Octavia thought. How stunted was its growth? How much had been withheld from it? How real were its emotions?

How much time was she willing to waste for the sake of this creature?

Octavia sighed a little, then said finally: “Moonbeam, ignore Square Hammer. He is a scientist and I am more like a... doctor. I want to make you better, because it's my job to make other people better. And I won't lie: you being able to move will be in our best interests as well. We won't have to worry as much about equipment, or moving you, or having to help you with everything. You want to be independent, don't you?”

“Changelings aren't independent.” Moonbeam whispered, looking down, and Octavia frowned slightly before she closed her eyes for a moment. Of course. She was talking to this creature like she'd talk to a pony, making assumptions again.

The earth pony let a small smile slip across her lips, before she said: “The limbs will make you useful, then. You want to be useful to us, don't you?”

Moonbeam looked uncomfortable for a moment, and then the Changeling nodded nervously, and Octavia nodded back before she instructed gently: “Square Hammer, let's attach the legs. Let's begin with the hind limbs.”

Square Hammer grunted, and as Octavia joined him at the rack that held the four skeletal prostheses, he asked under his breath: “What was that?”

“The Changelings aren't just social, they follow a strict hierarchy. We can use this to our advantage, especially with Moonbeam in such a confused state. If we treat her as subordinate to us, she may respond by acting the role. They take on characteristics as demanded, after all.” Octavia reasoned, before she cocked her head when Square Hammer gave her a moody look. “What?”

“It is a male drone, if its gender even matters at all. I much prefer thinking of it as an 'it,' and you should too. You're making the mistake of letting yourself get close to the creature. That is a mistake. It will use it against you far more effectively than you can hope to use your 'friendship' against it, or whatever you're hoping to achieve here.” Square Hammer said distastefully, and then he snorted in contempt before he hefted one of the prosthetic legs with telekinesis and turned towards the Changeling.

Octavia scowled at him, but followed and installed the leg in silence. She didn't like what Square Hammer was implying, and even less that he might actually have a point. But as she installed the rest of the prostheses, she couldn't help but sneak little glances up at the Changeling now and then; this Changeling that called itself Moonbeam, that still seemed afraid, that wasn't twitching or trying to fight or doing anything but simply waiting for the next command... and that wasn't just because of the sedative, was it? The poor thing was frightened out of her mind...

Changeling. It was a Changeling, not a pony, not a person, and she couldn't let herself feel sympathy for it. That was why they were giving it these very basic limbs. That was why they were taking every precaution with it. That was why they were using it purely for research purposes.

She finished installing the last leg, and without thinking, she stepped back and said: “Roll towards me, please, I need to check your hooves.”

The Changeling did as she asked, and luckily for her, didn't try to kick her: even if they were simple prostheses, getting kicked by four mechanical legs at once would have completely flattened her. But Moonbeam didn't seem intent on trying to escape: if anything, she only looked worried, fearful, like she was afraid there was something wrong, or she was going to be hurt...

“It's okay.” Octavia reassured as she checked the bottoms of the prostheses: they were more like picks than hooves, but they would provide the most balance possible with the lowest amount of material. She adjusted the rubberized cap on one, tightening it a little, before she tapped the others: they all seemed to be in place. She glanced up at Square Hammer, and he nodded briefly before he quickly went about the task of removing the electrodes and monitors from Moonbeam's body: with the cybernetics now active, they had better ways of monitoring her stress levels anyway.

“Would you like to try and stand up?” Octavia phrased it as a question, but it wasn't, really: the sooner they got Moonbeam on her feet, the better.

The Changeling shifted nervously, then winced as Square Hammer rapped on the table beside her with one hoof, her legs kicking and sawing wildly at the air as he snapped: “On your hooves!”

“I... I can't!” Moonbeam said fearfully, trembling violently as Octavia winced and leaned out of the way of the hawing hooves, before the Changeling yelped as she toppled off the table and landed on all fours with a gasp, her rubber-tipped prostheses squalling as they sprawled and skidded outwards-

Octavia stepped forwards and caught Moonbeam against her body before she could think to stop: the Changeling trembled against her, then whispered what sounded like a 'thank you,' leaning into her. And in spite of all her assumptions, the Changeling wasn't that heavy at all, her shell didn't feel so strange and alien that it was more like bug than pony; it was just an injured-

Don't go down that path.

Octavia took a slow breath, then she carefully straightened, and helped pull Moonbeam up a little, looking at the Changeling and saying in a kind but professional voice: “Straighten your back. I know it feels strange, but put your weight on your limbs just as you would normally. It may hurt a little at first, but your body will adjust.”

Moonbeam shivered a little as she stumbled a little on her hooves, before she took a shuddering breath: even with the sedative numbing her thoughts and making her feel tired, it hurt. “I... it feels like it's digging into my...”

She looked at herself and trembled: she was standing on steely stick legs. Nothing but thin metal bars, with visible wiring and... oh, she felt dizzy. She felt nauseated. She keeled forwards, but Octavia only caught her and held her gently, saying softly: “That's normal to feel. Your body will adjust. It will take some time, and these are only temporary prosthetic limbs. Can you stand up for me?”

Moonbeam shuddered, swaying a little for a few moments before she gritted her teeth as she straightened, her prosthetic legs shaking beneath her. She gasped briefly, then whimpered through her teeth before she settled a little when the pain didn't increase. But it was frightening: that pressure made it feel like she was standing on spears, like if she moved a little too much, those sharp legs would plunge back up through her and-

Moonbeam moaned, but Octavia only held gently onto her, giving her time to adjust. She softened, even as she held a hoof up to Square Hammer to stop him from saying anything stupid. “Just give yourself time. Take as long as you need. This is normal. This is what everypony goes through.”

“Every pony...” Moonbeam whispered, trembling for a moment, and Octavia smiled awkwardly as she reminded herself of the irony of her words. She ignored Square Hammer's glower: she wasn't letting herself get close. She was just trying to find the best choice of words to establish trust with Moonbeam.

The Changeling shuddered on her hooves, and Octavia smiled reassuringly, putting on her best face for the creature, being as reassuring and positive as she could even as her eyes clinically studied the Changeling's posture. Moonbeam was moving her legs unconsciously, making them shiver and shake beneath her. She likely didn't even realize that they were moving, or that she wasn't standing fully straight. “How much does it hurt? It should hurt less if you stand up a little straighter. You need to distribute your weight evenly between your legs. I know you can't feel anything, but don't think about it. Just let your body move normally.”

“I... I can't, the pain...” Moonbeam whispered: the same excuses, Octavia thought. She didn't know if that was a relief to hear, or frustrating. Of course it hurt, but the body would never adjust and the pain would never go away if they didn't get their bodies used to the prosthetic limbs.

“I know. We're going to start slow, Moonbeam. Take a few steps for me. There's a wheelchair right over here.” Octavia instructed, and Square Hammer rolled his eyes, but rolled the assisted mobility sling out all the same: it wasn't actually a wheelchair, since it was little more than a modified sling with wheels: Moonbeam could lay her body across it and then push herself around with her hooves. It would hopefully accelerate the process of getting her used to her new limbs without causing too much strain.

“Alright Moonbeam. Just over here.” Octavia urged, as she gently guided Moonbeam towards the wheeled sling. Moonbeam gasped in pain with every movement, but to her credit, she did at least try to move, even if her legs stuttered and stumbled and slid more than stepped. But that was more than she got from most of her patients- experiments. Research. Focus, Octavia. This is not a pony.

The Changeling stumbled and slid onto the sling with a groan of pain before she dropped into it, and Octavia murmured some meaningless reassurances as she quickly circled the Changeling, inspecting each socket in turn as Moonbeam curled her limbs prone, whimpering low in her throat in pain. She made a few adjustments, tightening and realigning supports, before she glanced up as Moonbeam asked weakly: “Will I ever be able to walk again?”

“You just did. It will become more comfortable in time. Your body has a lot of healing and adjustment to do.” reassured Octavia, before she straightened and glanced over at Square Hammer. The stallion scowled at her, but all the same used his magic to begin pushing the sling as Octavia headed to the door, opening it.

Moonbeam didn't seem very aware of her surroundings as they brought her through the lab, but Octavia noted that she was at least making some effort to move her legs. Right now, the sling was high enough that unless she purposefully tried to step down, only the tips of her rubberized pegs dragged against the ground.

Maybe Octavia was giving the creature too much credit. Maybe the legs were moving due to muscle spasms and pain reflex. But it did look to the earth pony like Moonbeam was at least trying to help... or maybe she was really just trying to delay being moved. Who knew? Moonbeam herself probably didn't, from the look in those teary eyes...

The Changeling. Think of it as a Changeling. Use its name in conversation but remember what it is, Octavia warned herself. But oh, this was precisely why she had left the Luciferin: one side of her was only interested in the riddles and puzzles that biology and cybernetics presented, the other side of her wanted desperately, desperately to help every lost little lamb that she came across...

“Moonbeam, I know that you're sore, but you're also frustrated, aren't you? And confused, and scared, I imagine.” Octavia smiled as kindly as she could, even as her eyes studied the Changeling's body impassionately. “You have to try and relax. I understand that's very difficult, but if you relax, this whole process will be easier.”

Moonbeam mumbled uneasily as she shifted and fidgeted, before she tried to roll on her side in the sling: it wouldn't let her do more than awkwardly twist her body, her legs kicking helplessly at the air before she finally sighed and slumped. One leg dragged along the ground as Square Hammer pushed the sling forward, but the other three limbs only twitched haphazardly as Moonbeam whispered: “I suppose I'm at your mercy anyway.”

“Yes, you are. And don't think of trying to escape, either. This whole facility has state of the art security, and unlike Melody, I have no interest in sugarcoating things for your or making you feel 'comfortable.' You are a research specimen. Nothing more or less. If you make yourself difficult, then I will personally dispose of you and find a more suitable subject. Understood?”

Octavia scowled at Square Hammer, but didn't say anything: it wasn't his words that bothered her, or even his tone, but rather the way he seemed to be enjoying himself and the pain of the Changeling. He looked back at her stoically, then sniffed disdainfully before his eyes returned to Moonbeam as she whispered: “I'll cooperate.”

“I know you will. Square Hammer is simply... establishing dominance.” Octavia said dryly, glowering over at the stallion as they entered the elevator.

It rose in silence to the lobby above: originally, they had considered leaving Moonbeam in one of the rooms in the basement, but this way it would be easier to monitor her and, if she did escape, she wouldn't be able to tinker with any of Square Hammer's tools on the way out. Not that escape was very likely, barring pony error: the doors were all electronically locked and functioned off a biometric sensor.

They headed down a side hall to a small bedroom that they had quickly turned into a bachelor apartment for Moonbeam: Vinyl watched distrustfully from another doorway a little further down as they wheeled the Changeling in, then skulked her way to the doorway, peering through it and watching as Octavia gently ushered the Changeling off the sling and onto the bed.

She ignored the eyes of her friend as she tapped the side table next to the bed, saying gently: “There's a buzzer here. Just press it if you need any help, but I'll come and check on you as time allows. Do you need anything, Moonbeam?”

The Changeling shivered on her side, and then shook her head, closing her eyes. Octavia studied the creature for a few moments: she already knew what it was going to say. “I'm fine. I would just like some time. I'm very... I'm very tired.”

“Of course.” Octavia smiled, gesturing sharply at Square Hammer, and the stallion scowled at her. For a moment, she thought he was going to argue, but thankfully he relented and left instead, and Octavia returned her eyes to Moonbeam before she encouraged gently: “Get some rest. We have plenty of time. As long as you cooperate, you'll be treated well.”

Moonbeam didn't answer, but it wasn't like Octavia expected her to. So the earth pony simply gave the Changeling a gentle pat on the back before turning and heading to the door. The moment it clicked locked behind her, Square Hammer said irritably: “You are getting too close to the subject, Melody.”

“Your fear of having any kind of contact with your research specimens has led you to miss many opportunities to benefit from their trust, Square Hammer.” Octavia retorted, before she added shortly: “I am not compromised. I simply recognize this response.”

Square Hammer tilted his head as Vinyl Scratch frowned, and Octavia sighed before counting off, as she tapped her hoof against the ground. “Lethargy. Confusion. Depression. Pain: in particular, I believe the pathopsychology of the creature's pain is extremely similar to that faced by pony amputees. If the creature continues to exhibit such similarities as predicted, then the further experiments we plan to conduct should allow several breakthroughs in prostheses and cybernetics research.

Vinyl stared, then she asked disbelievingly: “What the hell, Tavi? How can you be so cold?”

“I'll use small words so you understand.” Square Hammer said grouchily, as he rounded on Vinyl Scratch. “It's nothing more than a bug. It is a large bug that has learned to mimic pony behaviors and pony language, which some find upsetting and confusing, because in their tiny little minds, this somehow makes the creatures 'people.' But they are not 'people.' They are bugs. And it seems you have already forgotten that only a day ago, these very same bugs were attacking this very city, seeking to prey on helpless, little-minded ponies like yourself.”

“Look, pal, I don't know who the hell you think you are, but nobody talks to me like that!” Vinyl snapped, glaring at the stallion over her sunglasses as she leaned towards him, and Octavia grimaced as she put a hoof against her friend's shoulder to push her back slightly. “The thing talks! The thing feels, and it's in pain! And you just want to poke and prod it some more?”

She shoved away Octavia's hooves, glaring at her, and Octavia looked stonily back, hiding how much that look in her friend's eyes hurt her. “And you. It's like I don't even know you, Tavi. Sure, you've always done that whole stiff upper lip thing, but I never thought you were so damn cold.”

“It comes with the territory, Scratch. That's all.” Octavia answered evenly, and then she shook her head briefly before she returned her attention to Square Hammer. “I'll monitor her vital signs and continue to glean what information I can from her.”

“I'll finish production on the Type II limbs, in that case. I doubt the specimen will be very difficult to control. I'll notify you of any developments from the other Luciferin.” Square Hammer said dismissively, before he turned and strode away.

Octavia felt Vinyl Scratch still glaring at her, and the gray mare finally sighed before she turned her eyes towards her, saying reluctantly: “These matters are sensitive and these quandaries are beyond the moral comfort of most ponies. I understand that you may not grasp-”

“You and that jackass are torturing that thing!” Vinyl interrupted angrily, pointing at the door. “As far as I heard, no one was killed or-”

“Well, yes, the official reports always understate the mortality rates in any catastrophic event to maintain-”

“Tavi, talk to me!” Vinyl burst out, and then she dropped forwards, almost pleading as her sunglasses fell askew, revealing her large, hurt red eyes. “Just... just talk to me. Stop hiding behind all your big stupid words and talk to me.”

Octavia hesitated, and then she looked away with a soft sigh before she murmured: “Big, stupid words are very comforting and make a very effective wall from the world and your own feelings and failings, Scratch. I... I'm always drawn into this research, but I can never escape myself for very long. For a while, yes, you convince yourself it's for the greater good, and that a few hurt ponies in the present means that we will understand better how to treat these problems in the future. But at some point, it either becomes apathy or ennui.

“I don't know what this is truly about. I won't pretend otherwise: redemption of some kind, perhaps? I like to think I'm above such frivolous notions.” Octavia smiled briefly, looking at her friend quietly. “You always understood the dissonant chords, though; how there could be such beauty in sadness, and the yearning of an unfinished string.”

Vinyl Scratch sighed, then she said quietly: “Since when were you such a drama queen?”

Octavia looked down for a moment, and there was silence between them before Vinyl Scratch said almost abruptly: “It's a living thing. And... I just... I don't know if it's closer to animal cruelty than, like, pony experimentation, but I... I don't know. I guess I don't like seeing you being a jerk. Even to jerks.”

There was silence for a moment, and then Octavia gave a wry smile before she confessed: “The most flummoxing thing about the entire situation is that I do desire to help it. But I am lying, all the same: if I can heal it, make this 'prototype' perfect... then I can do the same for ponies.”

“But what's going to happen to uh... Moonshine, or whatever her name is?”

“Moonbeam. But it's a male drone. We examined the creature at great length. It's a very interesting...” Octavia halted when Vinyl gave her a glower. “Yes, I'll avoid going off on a tangent for now, of course. No, I don't know what will happen to her. That will be for Celestia to decide.”

Vinyl studied her friend for a few moments, and then she said: “You just told me the drone-thing is a guy, but you referred to her as, well, her. Why?”

Octavia scowled, opening her mouth to make some excuse, but Vinyl Scratch gave a brief smile before she asked: “Is it really that bad to care about your patients, doctor?”

“I am a scientist, Scratch, just like Square Hammer. My business is cybernetics and prosthetic enhancements... or was. That was how I found out that yes, it is very dangerous to care about your clientele. It is better to be impassive, and not allow your emotions to lead to errors in reasoning, to make you... doubt yourself.”

Octavia fell quiet as she dropped back against the wall, before she looked up and admitted: “It is an interesting research specimen, but there will always be a part of me that questions the necessity and the sanity of dissecting even the smallest of creatures for scientific gain.”

Vinyl Scratch sighed, then she shrugged before she sat against the wall beside Octavia. She smiled at her briefly, and Octavia looked away before the unicorn murmured: “I think you try too hard, Tavi. You try too hard to save people and you try too hard not to feel. I guess I've always heard that in your music, though... I get it, yeah, sad songs can be pretty, but... not every pretty song has to be sad, you know?”

Octavia looked down, and then she sighed a little before she gave a brief nod, gazing silently at the floor for a few moments. Vinyl smiled, then reached up and squeezed her friend's shoulder gently before she said finally: “You should go back to Ponyville. I will... I will try and remember your advice though, Scratch.”

“I haven't given you any advice yet, genius. And I will, but... this is a lot to take in and I guess... you know. I guess I'm trying to be here for you and whatever.” Vinyl shrugged, then she pushed her sunglasses up before smiling over at Octavia. “It's pretty cool and all. I'm pretty mad at you still, too. But hey, at least you're trying to listen. And... you're gonna help her, right?”

Octavia sensed a question under that question, and she bit her lip before she sighed, then said grudgingly: “I will do what I can. I believe... all things occur for a reason. Whether it is because all things are merely acting in accordance with the laws of the universe or because of some force like Fate, I don't know. But all things happen for a reason. There is rhythm, rhyme to the universe. I believe this happened for a reason, too, and if we benefit from this research, I will... return what favors I can to the Changeling.”

She stopped, sighed at the look on Vinyl's face, and corrected: “To Moonbeam.”

“Good.” Vinyl Scratch smiled, then she slapped her friend on the shoulder before saying: “Come on. Let's go get something to eat, Tavi.”

Octavia nodded, but for a moment longer, she only sat even as her friend walked away down the hall. She turned her eyes towards the door, and her gaze lingered there for a few moments before she nodded once to herself, and turned away.

Everything happened for a reason.

Changed

Chapter Three: Changed

When Octavia was summoned before Princess Celestia to give her report on her progress, she was very pleased to announce that not only had their research yielded many interesting finds about the Changelings' habits and culture, her personal projects had been highly successful as well.

It had taken Moonbeam quite a bit of time to adjust to the initial prosthetic limbs: Octavia had recalibrated and modified them several times, but ultimately it had been about making Moonbeam use them and working through the pain with her so that her body could adjust.

Octavia had gotten to know Moonbeam fairly well: she was from a particular caste of Changelings that acted as the advanced scouts into a civilization, taking on not only the appearance, but the personality and even emotional memories of a captured victim. It resulted in more than just a mimicking of a pony, but rather, the Changelings took on an identity of their own, which allowed them to better infiltrate.

It also seemed like it was reflexive for Moonbeam to try and hide her form: after a few days of recovery, they had found her in the shape of a lapis-colored unicorn mare with a purple mane, smooth and pretty... apart from the metal legs, that was. She had been crying, Octavia had thought: it turned out it was because she couldn't hide her metal legs, or her crystalline eye.

Octavia had promised the Type II legs she was building would be much better: easier for Moonbeam to move around in, more like real limbs. Moonbeam, understandably, hadn't really been soothed by this, so Octavia had left her alone for a while, then come back later with some simple leggings that would cover most of the artificial limbs, and a lens for her eye. Moonbeam didn't really like the leggings much, but the lens made her eye go from a brightly-glowing crystal to something that looked almost as natural as the other ruby iris.

Moonbeam had spent a while studying herself in the little mirror on the apartment wall: Octavia remembered this well, because she thought it was also when Moonbeam had started to actually trust her a little. Well, that, and Moonbeam had smiled: a pretty smile, an honest smile.

As Moonbeam had opened up to her, she had not only been able to get more information from the Changeling, she had also been able to push her harder, gotten her to do more. And as Moonbeam had actually adjusted to the limbs, she had become more confident and less suspicious that she was being experimented on... well, in a negative light, Octavia reflected. Moonbeam was certainly the subject of some very interesting research and experiments, after all.

Once they had been able to trust Moonbeam more and she had satisfied not just Octavia, but Square Hammer's extensive list of requirements, they had removed the simple prostheses and installed the Type II limbs. Whereas her initial prostheses had only been for basic movement and to give her more of a sense of autonomy, these new artificial legs were designed with both maneuverability and strength in mind. They would be stronger, more durable, and more capable than even her original limbs had ever been, although they would also require some getting used to on Moonbeam's part, and adjustments and recalibrations from both Square Hammer and Octavia to find the perfect range of movement and ability.

Octavia was very pleased with the progress they had made. Moonbeam was docile and quiet and well-behaved: a little cabin-feverish, she thought, and she talked a lot about 'when' she was going home to the Hive, as if it was a given, but overall Octavia was able to treat her like any of her former clients or patients and trust that she would cooperate.

Moonbeam did seem to understand it wasn't in her best interests to try and deceive or manipulate them, and between the rigorous testing that both Square Hammer and Octavia were doing on her, she was left too tired to try and stand up very much to them anyway. Octavia had relaxed a little around the Changeling, although Square Hammer was as paranoid as ever... although Octavia thought his 'concern' was partly an excuse so he could continue to treat Moonbeam less kindly than she deserved.

Octavia was pleased to have the honor of presenting all their findings to Princess Celestia, although she was slightly put-off when Princess Celestia moved the line of questioning from her work with Moonbeam's prostheses to asking her about her relationship with the Changeling. Octavia had reassured the Princess several times that Moonbeam was only a research subject, and she was not allowing the Changeling to compromise her in any way, but the Princess had only given her a cryptic smile and told her gently that wasn't her concern at all.

The meeting had gone well otherwise, and Octavia returned to Square Hammer's lab, pleased that she would be able to tell him she had been given the go-ahead to move Moonbeam to her own home. Vinyl was still very unsure about the whole thing, but Octavia was sure that Moonbeam would remain compliant and easy to get along with. Of course, even if she did try something, then Octavia could trigger the emergency shutdown on the nerve core that allowed Moonbeam to move, and there was also a built-in tracking device that would easily allow Octavia to catch her if she tried to run away.

Octavia entered Square Hammer's home and headed to the elevator, deciding she would give Moonbeam a bit more time to herself while she talked things over with Square Hammer. He was going to offer his facilities to some of the other members of the Luciferin to assist in finishing their research on the Changelings, but considering the volume of information they had already assembled about the creatures, Octavia didn't think there was much left to learn about them.

She hummed a little as the elevator descended: it would be good to finally go home. She didn't want to think about what Vinyl had done to the house while she was gone. She only hoped that the unicorn wasn't going to spend too much time glaring at Moonbeam, although Octavia was grateful for the fact that her friend seemed much more concerned about losing the spare room than she did about the fact that Moonbeam was a Changeling.

But that, she supposed, was what normal ponies were like; what ponies were supposed to be like. She envied it a little, how Vinyl was able to look past what Moonbeam was: Octavia wondered if she would have been able to do that herself, even if her studies hadn't been specifically on how Changelings were different from ponies, what variances they had.

Still, looking past the insect qualities of Moonbeam, she was very pony-like. Cloaking herself in the unicorn's shape probably helped, just like hiding the prosthetic limbs always helped her patients fit back into society. As the elevator came to a stop, she idly played with the idea of creating some kind of covering for Moonbeam's legs if she continued to behave herself: it would take some time and creativity, but it was far from impossible.

Octavia strode across the laboratory, and found Square Hammer hovering over some research. He glanced up as she approached, the mare greeting: “I have good news from-”

“It can wait.” Square Hammer said irritably, and Octavia frowned before the stallion sniffed disdainfully, then he pointed to one of the crystal screens mounted on the wall, the gray mare looking up before she did a double-take at the image on the screen.

“How?” Octavia asked disbelievingly, as she stared at the empty apartment Moonbeam had been in. She checked the timestamp to make sure it wasn't just a still image from some previous day, but no, the date and time were correct. So unless... “No, this has to be some silly practical joke-”

“Yes, because I am very much the joking type.” Square Hammer said, voice dripping with condescension. “She fooled the sensor somehow and simply walked out. She tripped a silent alarm, but I thought this would be a good lesson for you, Melody.”

“What?” Octavia asked, dumbfounded, and Square Hammer snorted and scowled at her.

“Isn't it obvious? This is precisely what I was warning you about.” growled Square Hammer. “These Changelings, whatever else they may be, are a race of predators designed specifically to mimic, to infiltrate, to manipulate. They feed off emotions because they are nothing but mindless, emotionless drones, a mere step above automaton! They serve their Queen to the death and it was stupid, moronic of you to miss the obvious, Melody! Every day, that creature spoke of returning to the Hive, and now it has, walking away on the four metal legs you gave it!”

“Why didn't you stop her?” Octavia shouted, snarling, but all the anger in the world couldn't hide the humiliation in her cheeks as she whirled towards where she had set up her own terminal on the far side of the lab.

She hammered across the control system, bringing up a screen that showed Moonbeam's vital signs and approximate location. It shocked her to realize how far she had already gotten: she must have left right after Octavia had gone to the palace. The earth pony gritted her teeth as Square Hammer snorted behind her, saying contemptibly: “You were played. Now that Changeling has returned to its hive, and taken with it several extremely valuable pieces of technology. And it is your bleeding heart's fault.”

Octavia ignored Square Hammer as she punched in a command, before she began to stomp down on the key to enter it, but then she stopped. Even as angry as she was, wouldn't shutting down Moonbeam's limbs be counterproductive? The Changeling was out there, alone, possibly traveling through a hostile environment to return to her hive; if Octavia shut down those limbs now, then Moonbeam would be stranded, unable to defend herself...

God, she was angry.

Was she angry enough to leave her patient open to suffering, death... possibly worse?

Her hoof hovered over the button and she ground her teeth together in frustration before Square Hammer said snidely: “At least now I see that it was for the best you left the Luciferin, Melody. You don't have the scientific mind required to separate your emotions from the task at hoof. Otherwise you wouldn't hesitate in hitting that button.”

“I am hesitating precisely because I can separate my emotions from logic, Square Hammer.” Octavia retorted, before she took a slow breath, then deleted the command, focusing on the screen, mentally paging through her other options. “I have her coordinates and I can monitor her through her cybernetic augmentations. If the Changelings are truly a magically-based, insect-like society, they won't be able to reverse engineer or even analyze this technology. No, this is advantageous.”

Square Hammer scowled as Octavia hammered strings of commands over the console, before she sat back with a grim smile as the console's screen fizzled before a grainy image appeared on it: thanks to the distance, it skipped and jumped, but essentially it allowed them to see what Moonbeam was seeing as she made her way across barren tundra, various statistics flickering across the screen. And, faintly, riddled by distortions but still there, they could hear the sound of the world around her, thanks to the communicator Octavia had built into one leg on a whim. After all, these prosthetic limbs had been meant for more than civilian use, so why not test the possible combinations of technology she could include?

The earth pony was very glad she had now. They could monitor Moonbeam this way: even communicate with her, if the chance arose.

But for the moment, Octavia simply pushed herself back, taking a slow breath before she turned her cold eyes towards Square Hammer, who was now ignoring her as he studied the screen and muttered: “Perhaps this will provide an interesting research opportunity after all...”

“I think you should excuse yourself, Square Hammer. You have your projects, and I have mine. Rest assured, once I've settled on a course of action, I will inform you and keep you updated.” Octavia said as civilly as possible, but her glare made it clear what she was really saying.

Square Hammer's lip curled in contempt before he snapped back: “You are in my home, using my technology, and-”

“And without me, this technology is useless and you have no access to Moonbeam.” Octavia cut him off, meeting his eyes evenly. “By all means, though, I am very happy to relocate if you continue to insist. I'm sure some of the other Luciferin will be more than happy to allow me to use their equipment in return for research access.”

Square Hammer growled in irritation, and then he gave a short, grudging nod. He opened his mouth, but Octavia reached out and quickly covered his muzzle, saying shortly: “I do not believe there is any further need to discuss things.”

The unicorn glared at her, then firmly removed her hoof with telekinesis before he huffed and turned away, storming off and grumbling: “Then ensure that you keep me updated, Melody. I will be looking forward to your first report.”

Octavia decided to ignore the implication that she worked for him, and instead turned her eyes back to the screen. She sighed as she sat back and settled in, shaking her head slowly as she rubbed silently at her forehead, trying to remain impassive, impartial, and look at this as an opportunity, but even she couldn't pretend that wasn't a strange sensation of betrayal roiling in her guts.

How stupid she had been, to think a Changeling might actually be a person.

Moonbeam nervously made her way down the rocky incline to the approach to the Hive: it didn't look like much more than a jumble of rocks from a distance, but the closer you drew to it, the clearer it became that the shapes were too regular, that something had put these pillars and columns and sharp stones together in a way that had some kind of rational purpose behind it.

The purpose was simple: hollow guard towers that Changelings could defend the Hive from, sharp rocks lodged in sinking sand to prevent ground invaders from trespassing, and shale layered over the roof of the hive so that anything that landed on it would either cut their feet or be unable to find a grip. Moonbeam didn't think it was right to say the Changelings were a warlike people, but by nature, they were invaders, interlopers: they had to be prepared in the event that their invasions went wrong, and their former prey decided to take revenge.

It had happened in the past. And again, of course, only recently.

Moonbeam shivered a little as she continued towards the great, ugly dome of the Hive. Her eyes nervously roved up to the sky as she saw a Changeling squadron pass by: drones, she wondered, or soldiers? She wondered if they saw her or recognized her... but then why hadn't anyone been sent out to meet her? Did that mean the Hive was being locked down?

She sighed a little as she continued down the path. It hurt a little to do this. She really liked Octavia, even if she was aware that Octavia had mainly been using her for research. She wasn't stupid, after all, and just like Square Hammer had always said, her race was a race built on deception. It made them very hard to deceive.

Still, there had been a lingering hope there that maybe Octavia actually cared about her, but... what did it matter now? She had betrayed her. Stolen these artificial legs and escaped back to the Hive.

Why was she even doing this?

Because she was a Changeling, because she had a duty to the Hive, because there was a little voice in her head encouraging her to go home and report everything she had learned to Queen Chrysalis. Maybe she would even get a day off, or a promotion! Scout, first class!

How would that be any different from the caste she had already been born into, though?

Moonbeam sighed and lowered her head, but then blinked and looked quickly up as she saw something move. She stopped, then concentrated for a moment, sending out a short pulse of Changeling magic: this was greeted by a pair of relieved-feeling thrums from her fellow Changelings, and she smiled as she hurried forward, the leggings around her mechanical limbs swishing over her legs, traveling poncho rustling against her back-

A thief and a liar. That was all a Changeling was.

Moonbeam shivered a little, but threw the thoughts off as she approached an open cavern, where two Changeling soldiers had appeared at the maw leading inside, waiting for her. They both frowned as she drew close, one of them cocking his head before he asked: “Who are you?”

“Moonbeam.” she answered, before she could stop herself. Both soldiers scowled at her immediately, one of them nervously squeezing the spear back against his shoulder, and Moonbeam blushed and shook her head violently before she let her transformation drop, revealing her actual features. She wasn't a unicorn. She wasn't Moonbeam. She was... “Scout, Green 9.”

“We heard that you'd been captured, along with quite a few others. Did you see any of them? Blue 15, Red 3, Green 7...” The Changeling soldier broke off as Moonbeam shook her head.

“No, I was held alone in a facility by two ponies. They were experimenting on me. I heard they were researching the others, too...” Moonbeam said, before she uncomfortably flinched when one of the soldiers frowned and poked her mechanical leg.

He looked at her, and she hesitantly rose the prosthetic, letting the sleeve of the legging draw back to reveal the steel limb. The other soldier whistled as the first one stared, then asked disbelievingly: “What did they do to you?”

Moonbeam only shook her head and lowered her leg, saying after a moment: “I should really wait to discuss that with an adviser...”

“Oh, uh, of course, right.” The soldier nodded, but then his companion cleared his throat loudly, and the soldier winced before he sighed and added reluctantly: “But well, you know that we're in a state of emergency here. Queen Chrysalis is injured and we're worried that the Equestrians might try and attack or destroy the Hive, and they might be able to do it if they bring that magic here.”

“We need to make sure that no one gets in the Hive who isn't supposed to. Queen Chrysalis is worried they might send a Changeling back with a bug, or they might even convince some of the Changelings to work with them... I hear there are already pony sympathizers in the Hive, as a matter of fact.”

Moonbeam cocked her head at this, and the other soldier hesitated before he couldn't help himself from gossiping: “Well, you know, ponies seem like they're willing enough to share love with anyone who asks, right? So I think some Changelings have been asking why we don't just, you know, try passive harvesting for once.”

“Yeah, I mean. They're basically overflowing with love.” the first soldier added reasonably, before he winced at the stares he got from Moonbeam and the other guard. “Uh. Not that I agree. Just saying.”

“Right.” the other soldier said slowly, before he shook his head and sighed. “Anyway. We need to ensure the loyalty of every Changeling who comes through here, and that they haven't become too pony-like. I see you've been through a lot, though, Green 9.”

“You can just call me Moonbeam if you want.” Moonbeam suggested, and both drones stared at her, the Changeling blushing a bit before she shrugged and said finally: “I mean, it's easier than Green 9.”

“How?” asked the soldier, and Moonbeam didn't really have an answer for that, before he added: “Why are you using a female name, anyway? I mean, were you assigned a mare?”

“Yes.” Moonbeam lied, her entire face scrunching up and her eyes widening.

Both Changeling soldiers looked at her critically, and Moonbeam blushed as she shrugged awkwardly and looked away, mumbling: “Well, there are more mares in Equestria than stallions, you know. It was easier to infiltrate with a mare, so I copied a mare. And... I mean... it's... better.”

There was an awkward silence for a few moments, before one of the Changelings suddenly brightened and said knowingly: “I get it! You want to be like Chrysalis! I dream of being more than just a soldier sometimes too, you know...”

“No, I don't want that.” Moonbeam blurted out, even knowing she really should stop talking.

The Changelings looked at her with confusion, before one of the soldiers prompted: “Well, what do you want, then?”

Moonbeam answered before she could stop herself: “Pretty.”

The Changelings stared at her.

“I just... like being pretty.” Shut up Moonbeam shut up shut up shut up.

“Pretty.”

“Pretty!” she blurted defensively.

“You're weird.” one of the Changelings said bluntly, then he winced as his companion elbowed him, huffing a bit before he added with a frown: “And hey. How did you escape, again? I mean, it's not like the ponies would just let you go. Especially with... uh...”

They all looked for a moment at Moonbeam's mechanical legs, and the other soldier asked nervously: “What kind of magic is that, anyway? I've never seen anything like it. How is it working? Is there a pony somewhere powering it?”

The other Changeling scowled at this, then he leaned forwards suspiciously, asking: “Are you powering it yourself? Why did they replace your legs, did they replace other things?”

Moonbeam winced, then she shook her head and explained hurriedly: “No, no! They're powered by batteries. Magic crystals. Um... I don't know how to explain it. I just know that it works. They helped me.”

“The ponies helped you.” one of the soldiers said, and Moonbeam reflected that probably wasn't the best thing she could have said. But all the same, she decided to press on.

“Yes, they helped me. A building fell on me, so they made these prostheses for me. I know they were just trying to get information out of me-”

“How much did you tell them?” asked the other Changeling, looking a little alarmed now, but Moonbeam only shook her head defiantly.

“No, I didn't tell them anything!” she said, exasperated, but then she bit her lip, and when both soldiers looked at her accusingly, she confessed: “Well, alright, I told them a few things, but... only because they knew a lot about us already. A lot of Changelings were captured and interrogated... you knew that already, though.”

“Well, yes, but I mean, that's no reason to just give up and talk.” huffed one of the soldiers awkwardly, although the other only shrugged lamely; Moonbeam couldn't blame them, though. They were just doing what they had been told, repeating what they had been ordered to. “Look, you have to admit this doesn't look good.”

Moonbeam tilted her head, looking blankly at the soldier, and he rattled off: “Using a pony name, those magical legs, the fact you just 'walked out' of where you were being held, the fact you told them-”

“I didn't tell them anything useful, though! They already knew where the Hive was, and-”

“They know where our Hive is? So they might be coming here after all!” blurted the other soldier, alarmed, and Moonbeam dropped her face in a metal hoof with a sigh.

“No, they're not... like us, they don't really invade or attack. They're...” Moonbeam struggled to find a word to describe them, but all she could say was: “Ponies.”

“Ponies.”

“Ponies!” Moonbeam stopped, then sighed, changing the subject before this could become a repeat of their previous conversation. “I have a lot of information. I learned all kinds of things about them: I can tell you all about these machines and how the ponies are organized and their food and clothes and culture and language...”

The soldiers looked at her dubiously, and Moonbeam shook her head, saying quickly: “They're really trusting, they're not good at being manipulative, and I... uh... I worked really hard. I got a lot of love and emotions and learned how to manipulate some of their technology and about... music...”

Moonbeam faded for a moment, and one of the Changelings frowned as the other soldier almost flinched, before he asked: “What was that?”

“Huh?” Moonbeam glanced up in surprise, and the soldiers shifted nervously. The mare shifted herself, then frowned in surprise at the shift she felt from both soldiers: they were... defensive? “What? What's wrong?”

“You.” one of them said plainly, even as the other winced.

Moonbeam stared, feeling like she'd been punched in the gut as she mouthed wordlessly, before she blurted out: “What? But I came back, I told you-”

“We felt those emotions. You're... you're not like us. You're like a pony. Names and... wanting things and talking about music and technology... what are those things? What do they have to do with anything?”

“Look, Green 9-”

“Moonbeam!” Moonbeam snapped, and then she flushed and covered her lips, her eyes going wide before she trembled and lowered her head a bit.

“Moonbeam.” The Changeling was almost gentle, and she hated the pity in his eyes. “Look. I've heard all about this. You became too much like them. I don't know, maybe you were overexposed to their emotions, that happens sometimes, or maybe because you got hurt, your brain got all confused and forgot what you were supposed to be. I don't know, I'm just a soldier, not a doctor.”

The drone shrugged, then he said finally: “Look, we uh... you know the rules. You can't come into the Hive again. You have to leave. Unless you want to be clipped.”

He grimaced, and Moonbeam shivered instinctively: no, no she didn't want that. Clipped Changelings lost their wings and their horns: they spent the rest of their lives muddling around the underbelly of the Hive, nothing but slaves.

She nervously took a step back, and the other soldier frowned before he said slowly: “But he might be a spy. We should...”

“Hey, Chrysalis said drive off any spies, not drag them down for clipping.” said the other soldier pointedly, before he added: “Exile's better. I don't know about you, but... I think exile's better. Now get out of here before someone else shows up, or we won't have a choice in the matter anymore.”

Moonbeam wanted to argue. To beg, to plead, to fight: to come up with some reason, any reason, she should be allowed in. But she was...

She was supposed to be a drone, with no name, no function except that given to her by the Hive, only a minimum of personality. Instead, she was... she was she, Moonbeam, who liked reading and music and the sound of Octavia's voice and sleeping in nice beds and thinking for herself...

God, when had she developed a self?

Moonbeam fled from the Hive: she stumbled her way back around the barriers and the traps, hurrying back out of Changeling territory as fast as she could go. Suddenly, it all made sense: this was why the voice of the Hive was still just a whisper in her mind, why it was no longer calling her, instructing her, only a tenuous memory.

What had happened? Had she spent too long around ponies? Had she experienced too many of their emotions at once? The other scouts had been fine: when the time had come to do her duty and capture prey, she had been happy to capture that one pony who had lived next door who had always played obnoxious music in the middle of the night...

That sounded pathetic. That sounded like she had been planning to do it as an excuse from the very start.

So what if she didn't want to hurt any of the ponies? She was a scout! And a few Changelings could easily feed passively on a population of ponies, taking a nibble here, a bit of emotion there, and it wasn't like they weren't used to going long periods of time between eating anyway...

Moonbeam winced as she tripped, her eyes widening as she fell face-first towards a sharpened rock, and she did the only thing she could, flinging out a hoof to catch herself even though she knew it meant-

Her metal hoof slammed down through the spike, crushing it to gravel, and Moonbeam stared for a few moments at what she had done before she trembled and slowly rose her hoof. She studied it silently, tilting it back and forth as she mouthed wordlessly at her own strength: the ponies had given her this. Some of the things they had done to her had been cruel, but no one could pretend some of the things they had done hadn't been kind.

She took a shuddering breath as she straightened slowly, lowering her head. But so what if they had given her these metal limbs? She wasn't stupid. She had snuck a look at some of their files, noticed the 'model' of a Changeling leg more than once when she had been taken down to the labs for more stress testing. The ponies had done this to her. They had made her a monster!

She wished she could believe that. It would make hating them so much easier. Maybe enough that she could hate what she'd become, and she could go back to the Hive and tell them how much she hated the ponies and how much she wanted revenge on them and they would accept her again...

No, that ship had sailed. She wasn't a Changeling anymore. And she didn't believe she was a pony, either... she didn't really know what she was. Something caught between, something that had tried for so long to hold the shape it had been molded into, it had been permanently altered by it; something that had tried so hard to believe its own lies that they had started to become the truth.

Moonbeam stumbled out onto barren tundra, staring in the direction of Equestria, the country, the pony-world she had just fled from. To her back was the Changeling Hive, where she had come from, but where she no longer belonged. She stood in the empty space between two worlds, wondering where she could even go, what she could even hope to do as she tried to swallow the sobs that wanted to rise up out of her throat...

A Changeling, crying, because it was sad.

That wasn't how it worked. That wasn't supposed to happen.

What was she?

Moonbeam clenched her eyes shut, and wished with all her heart that there could be some kind of sign, that something, anything, would show her what to do. She'd never had to make any kind of decision on her own before: all she had to do was follow orders and then pretend to do all the things normal ponies did, but what would a pony do in this situation?

Moonbeam bit her lip, whispering: “I just wish I belonged somewhere... I just want to go home...”

Home; what did that word even mean? The Hive was home but it had never been home, not in the sense that these ponies used the word. Maybe that had been the flaw all along: being part of the pony's world had made her so happy that she had forgotten to compartmentalize, she had forgotten that those emotions weren't really her own.

She had really screwed it all up, hadn't she? If she hadn't run away like an idiot, maybe they would have at least allowed her to stay somewhere in Equestria. But no, she had run away, taking these mechanical limbs with her, betraying Octavia's trust in her. Now the Hive had rejected her and she was stuck out here, alone, miserable, trapped, useless-

“Moonbeam?”

Moonbeam flinched in surprise, looking wildly back and forth as she wiped sporadically at her teary features. Without even realizing it, she reassumed the form of a unicorn, asking anxiously: “Octavia? Is that... are you there?”

“No, Moonbeam. I'm communicating with you through a relay in the... look, that's not important right now.” Octavia's tone became more businesslike, but Moonbeam thought she could hear the faintest hint of concern in her voice as she said: “If you're quite done with this silliness, I would like you to come to Ponyville. I assume you're familiar enough with Equestrian territory to find your way there on your own, aren't you?”

“I... yes, yes...” Moonbeam sat back in confusion, blinking a few times before she asked anxiously: “But wait, what about-”

“There will be time to discuss that later, Moonbeam. For now, I will consider this you merely exercising your newfound freedom on a short jaunt around the neighborhood, but I expect to see you home soon, Moonbeam. I'm sure once you're in Ponyville you'll have little trouble finding your way to my home, as long as you were honest about your capabilities as a scout.”

“Yes, it won't be a problem. I can lock on to your emotional resonance.” Moonbeam trembled a bit, then she smiled faintly as she rubbed quietly at her face before whispering: “Thank you.”

“I'm sorry, I didn't catch that.”

“I... I'll be there soon, Octavia. And I'm sorry-”

“Then it's settled. I'll be waiting for you in Ponyville, Moonbeam. Please don't be tardy.”

Octavia closed communications; not that Moonbeam would be able to tell, but it made her feel better, anyway, and more in control of the situation. Well, that and the fact she could still monitor what Moonbeam was doing and her rough heading from the console, the earth pony studying the screen for a few moments before Square Hammer said distastefully: “Your ridiculous fake accent becomes even more exaggerated when you're upset, Melody.”

“Just because you worked so hard to get rid of yours, Square Hammer, it doesn't mean that the rest of us aren't proud of our heritage. No matter where we might come from.” Octavia retorted, glowering over at Square Hammer. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to make preparations to return to Ponyville. I'll send for what's necessary later in the week, Square Hammer. Do try not to break any of my things.”

“Melody!” Square Hammer barked as the gray mare began to walk away, and she stopped and glared over her shoulder at him. But then she frowned, turning towards him as the stallion shifted awkwardly on his hooves before he gave the briefest of nods to her, saying grudgingly: “As obnoxious and irritating as you are, your mind was a benefit to the Luciferin when it was not filled with emotions and prattle. Be careful of the Changeling. They are predators and we still do not fully understand the effect that their feeding can have on ponies in the long term, let alone what they are truly capable of.”

“I appreciate your almost-concern, Square Hammer, but I will be fine. I am not afraid of Moonbeam, nor of what she may do.” She was silent for a moment, then said abruptly: “Thank you for the use of your facilities, including your own mental aptitudes, Square Hammer. You were a benefit to the cause.”

Square Hammer gave a thin smile, but it was a smile all the same, and Octavia bowed briefly to him before she turned and headed to the elevator. As frustrating as Square Hammer could be, she understood him better than most: it wasn't like they were entirely different, after all. When she was deep in the puzzles and research, she could be just as cold...

She sighed a little as she made her way to her room to gather her few belongings: it didn't take long. She didn't keep many personal things: a few nice dress collars and bows, some simple cufflinks, a few pictures in frames. Octavia lingered for a moment in the spare room, silently studying the portrait of her: but with a press of her hoof against the crystal-coated frame, the simple portrait was brushed away, and in its place was a picture of a little gray filly with a bright smile on her face, holding up the simple prosthetic that had won her first prize in the science fair, her parents on either side of her...

How unfair that had been to the other children, she thought with a wry smile. She had already been taking college-level calculus and they were all still learning the multiplication tables. Child of two geniuses, tutored by the very best, groomed to exceed...

But she had still been a little filly, and winning first prize in the science fair that had mostly been volcanoes had felt like the apex of all achievements, especially with Mommy and Daddy there to see it. To see how good she was. To watch her prove herself.

She sighed a little, then wiped her hoof over the glass to turn it back to a portrait before tucking it away in her satchel bag. The gray mare slipped this on, then turned and walked to the doorway. She lingered for a moment, hoof silently trailing along the wood that hid metal and technology beneath it, looking back over her shoulder at a bedroom that looked like any other bedroom in any other moderately-well-off Equestrian household: and yet the bed could move by itself, the floors were self-cleaning, there was a panic button under the tabletop and a music player hidden in the wall...

“Lights off.” Octavia said, and the lights turned themselves off: what feats this combination of magic and technology could bring. And the Luciferin hoarded so much of it to themselves; well, that wasn't entirely their fault, she reflected. Celestia regulated their industries very tightly, and Octavia understood why: magic and technology were both capable of so much, so many good things, great things, even... and together, their potential was even more limitless. But they were capable of great evil and destruction in the wrong hooves, too, and terrible accidents, and ponies became dependent on them: worse, they began to think they were entitled to these gifts.

Maybe that was why she liked Moonbeam so much. Moonbeam was quiet, and always said thank you, and never took what she was given for granted. Even though she'd run away, now that Octavia had cooled down, she understood that Moonbeam had just been trying to serve what she saw as her purpose. The Changelings were programmed, almost like machines...

How had Moonbeam broken her programming? And how was she blind to the magnificence of herself? She was like... like a golem that had dared to come alive, to have its own dreams! For Celestia's sake, Octavia herself wished she could be... more like Moonbeam.

Wasn't that funny? She wished she could be like Moonbeam. Free of her bonds, of that need to hide everything, keep everyone at leg's length, free of the desire to puzzle and contemplate and coldly analyze.

Octavia smiled faintly, then she shook her head as she turned and headed out the door. She left Square Hammer's lab, and soon enough, left Canterlot, slowly making her way back towards Ponyville.

By the time she reached home, it was late and dark, and she found Vinyl snoring on the couch. Octavia smiled again, briefly, as she saw the crumbs and remains of cakes on a tray on the table, along with two cold cups of tea: one was mostly gone, the other half gone.

It smelled faintly of smoke, even though Octavia always chastised the unicorn about going outside at least. A cigarette had been butted out in the ashtray, but Octavia was quite sure there would be at least two others in the potted plant nearby: Vinyl was terrible at hiding her habits. A last, unlit cigarette was in Vinyl's mouth, moving up and down with her snores: Octavia gently plucked this away, then she grasped the blanket hanging off the back of the couch and pulled it down over the unicorn.

“Sleep well, Scratch.” Octavia said after a moment, then she shook her head before she headed to her room. She took her time: by her estimates, it wouldn't be until very late before Moonbeam returned. Even if her mechanical legs were strong and tireless, the rest of the Changeling was not. Even considering the fact that Moonbeam was hardier than most ponies, she would still have to rest for at least a little while on the way back.

All the same, Octavia headed to the kitchen, brewed a pot of strong coffee, and then she sat down with her research notes, leaving a light on in the window. She spent the night there, just waiting, every so often looking up to check for her... patient, yes. That was what Moonbeam was now. A live-in patient. A research subject that she had been entrusted with the care of, and she only wanted to ensure there weren't any further accidents or problems.

Well, Octavia was almost able to convince herself that was the truth.

Octavia finally heard a nervous shuffling outside just before sunrise, and the earth pony couldn't help but smile to herself as she got up and made her way to the door. But she quickly assumed her usual calm poker face before opening it, just as Moonbeam started to knock.

The Changeling blinked and stumbled forward, narrowly catching herself with a blush, and Octavia studied her for a few moments: she was a disheveled mess, poncho ripped and torn, mane all askew, covered in dust from the long travel. The mare frowned slightly as she studied some scratching over one of her front legs, before she said brusquely: “Come inside. We have a room set up for you.”

Moonbeam trembled, then suddenly lunged forward and hugged Octavia fiercely, and the gray mare blinked in surprise as the Changeling buried her face against her neck and whispered: “I'm sorry. I'm s-so sorry.”

Octavia sighed softly, but then she silently rubbed a hoof along Moonbeam's back, giving a brief smile before she repeated in a quieter voice: “Come inside. We'll talk about things later.”

Moonbeam smiled faintly, nodding a few times and rubbing silently at her face as she drew back, then she allowed herself to be drawn into the house. The door swung shut behind her, and Moonbeam suddenly felt nervous: far more nervous than she had been back at the laboratory, where she had been a prisoner.

Maybe that was because the consequences seemed so much more dire now: if she did something wrong or bad, what was going to happen to her? There was nowhere else for her to go and nowhere to turn and oh, she was so afraid that-

“Moonbeam.” Octavia said, gentle but firm, and Moonbeam blinked and looked up before she smiled awkwardly when the gray mare gestured to her. “This way, please.”

Moonbeam nodded hurriedly, following the way Octavia had gestured. She headed down the hall with the other mare leading her, even though Octavia walked behind her: but it was more comforting than Moonbeam wanted to admit to have that kind of guidance again.

She blinked in surprise at the room they entered: it was a nice little bedroom, with a small fold-out bed. There wasn't much else: an empty stool for a corner table, a little dresser... but what called to Moonbeam most were the windows.

The curtains were drawn back, and Moonbeam strode in front of the window, hesitantly grasping the bottom of it as she looked at Octavia: but when Octavia only looked back at her, the Changeling bit her lip before she slid the window open, and gazed silently out into the streets of Ponyville, feeling the cool breeze kiss at her face, stroke through her mane.

She leaned out, looking back and forth: they were just far enough away from the town center that the noise likely wouldn't be too bad even if she left the window open all day. She smiled a bit, then glanced up with a blush as Octavia joined her before she gently slid the window down and shut, saying softly: “Ponyville will be awake soon, Moonbeam. It's a community that likes to be on its hooves early. You should close the blinds, too, the sun will shine-”

“It's okay. I don't need much sleep. I don't think the sun will wake me up.” Moonbeam said quickly, and Octavia studied her before giving a small smile despite herself: a meek little request hidden in a vague statement, but all the same, it was something. And Octavia supposed that she could honor that.

“Of course. This is your room, Moonbeam, and while we have some house rules, I would like you to make yourself comfortable. You may open or close the window and the blinds as you are comfortable with.” Octavia said, looking at her pointedly to make it clear to Moonbeam the trust she was also stating in her. “But we can go over rules and expectations after you get some rest. Would you like help removing your prostheses, or are you going to sleep with them attached?”

“I'm... very tired. I'll probably just go to bed like this.” Moonbeam said evasively, and Octavia was reminded again that as naive and meek as Moonbeam could seem at times, she wasn't stupid. But that was fine: they could take their time getting to know each other better now that they were out of the formalities of the facility.

“Very well. Good night, Moonbeam.” Octavia said politely, turning to head to the door. But she paused for a moment with her hoof on the handle before she asked suddenly, glancing back over her shoulder: “How did you escape from Square Hammer's lab?”

Moonbeam blushed deeply, then she shrugged awkwardly before she said finally: “It wasn't hard. We... Changelings can all naturally shapeshift, but my caste has to learn to do more than that. Some societies know about us and look out for our kind: others have magic that can check a person's identity. We had to learn to fool that magic, too. It's very hard to copy a pony's imprint, but we can do that too. Briefly.”

“Imprint?” Octavia asked curiously, and Moonbeam struggled to put the words together in a way that the earth pony could understand: it was just something you learned as a Changeling, after all. At least, when your duty was to infiltrate for long periods of time.

“Your... the beat of your heart, the way you breathe, the... sound you make, even when you're not talking. It's hard to put into words. It's just... something you learn to do.”

She looked lamely at Octavia, but Octavia only studied Moonbeam for a few moments before she gave a brief smile and nodded, saying softly: “I was just curious. Rest for now, Moonbeam. We can talk more in the morning.”

Octavia began to pull the door shut, but she stopped when Moonbeam blurted out: “Thank you!”

Octavia poked her head back in curiously, and the Changeling bit her lip before she lowered her head and said humbly, as she tugged awkwardly at the poncho still draped around her body: “Thank you for giving me a chance.”

The earth pony only smiled wryly, then she shrugged before she calmly closed the door. She turned and headed back to the kitchen, and was surprised to find that Vinyl was now up, leaning over the sink in front of an open window, a cigarette guttering from her muzzle.

“I wish you wouldn't do that.” Octavia said, eyeing the ashes dripping into the sink disapprovingly, but Vinyl only gave her a lopsided grin.

The unicorn shrugged, then asked: “How's the Changeling?”

“Moonbeam is fine, thank you. We had a bit of an incident, but she's here now and settling in.” Octavia paused, then added in a quieter voice: “Thank you for putting together a meal for me. I am sorry that I didn't return in time to enjoy it with you.”

“Hey, no worries. Things happen.” Vinyl shrugged, and there was silence between them for a few moments before she rubbed at her face, then she asked bluntly: “Are you ever going to tell me what happened?”

Octavia considered for a moment as she sat down at the table, tapping a hoof quietly against the wood before she finally sighed and murmured: “When I'm ready, Scratch. I understand it's been a difficult few months for us both. But as hesitant as I am to tell you about my past, I think you deserve to hear about my days in the Luciferin. I just... hope that it doesn't change your opinion of me very much.”

Vinyl smiled a little, and then she grasped the coffee carafe with magic, walking over to the desk to refill Octavia's mug. “Hey, don't get like that, miss mysterious. Let's just... take one thing at a time, I guess. But don't think I'm gonna turn my back on you that easy, either. The past is the past, right? We all did a lot of stupid stuff in the past. I know I did.”

Vinyl paused long enough to tilt the carafe above her own muzzle, drinking down several gulps of the dark liquid as Octavia sighed, before the unicorn winked at her and added: “Besides, I kind of need you to pay the mortgage and all that.”

“Scratch, it is my name on the deed. You would have to be the one to move out if it came to that.” Octavia said dryly, but Vinyl only shrugged easily again.

“See? Even more reason.” she answered, then she smiled, saying in a softer voice: “Let's just take it one step at a time, like you're always saying. Besides, I think this'll be good for Moonbeam. Can't really blame her for what happened and all.”

There was silence for a few moments, and then Octavia nodded as she picked up her mug of coffee, saying softly: “Wise words for a disc jockey, Vinyl.”

“Hey, the only effort you have to put in with that cello of yours is lugging it around. What do you know about music?” Vinyl huffed, and Octavia couldn't help but smile in spite of herself, shaking her head before she returned her eyes to her research.

She just hoped that Vinyl was right, and this ended up being the best place for Moonbeam to be while she figured out what to do with her, and more importantly, just where she was supposed to stand with the Changeling.

Melody

Chapter Four: Melody

The first few weeks with Moonbeam as their 'houseguest' had been a little rocky, but now that they had a whole month behind them, she honestly seemed to be settling in, and Vinyl had adjusted with some reluctance to Moonbeam's presence. Octavia still found it funny how Vinyl had clearly had no problem at all with Moonbeam being a Changeling, but rather, had been complaining about a 'lack of privacy,' although Octavia had no idea what that meant.

It wasn't like they didn't all have their rooms, and Vinyl didn't want a lock or anything, and didn't seem to be referring to the fact that she wanted time alone: what other kind of privacy was there, though?

Ponies. They confused her sometimes.

Moonbeam had been taking to life in Ponyville well, at least: sure, for the first few days she had been extremely hesitant to leave the house, but Octavia thought that was less because she was embarrassed about her prosthetic limbs or concerned about ponies figuring out she was a Changeling, and more because she was scared that she was going to walk a foot too far away from the house and be cast out forever.

It wasn't like Octavia could entirely blame the poor girl, though: she had been exiled from her Hive and she was clearly afraid that if she did the wrong thing, they were going to exile her, too. But Octavia had no plans for that. She was well aware of the fact that they couldn't just take care of Moonbeam forever, but they had plenty of time to figure things out and help Moonbeam adjust to life here in Ponyville, and of course, Octavia was still learning plenty about both the Changeling and how her prostheses were functioning.

Her Type II limbs were holding up very well: they were versatile, durable, and capable. But they had required too many adjustments, Octavia thought: she had underestimated how much use they would be getting and how long it would take Moonbeam to really be able to control them. It wasn't that she had accidents on a normal day, but when she stumbled she tended to throw a hoof straight out, and the prosthetic leg she caught herself on always overcompensated, resulting in her stomping a hole through whatever was in front of her. Likewise, when she had once attempted to wiggle her prosthetic limbs into boots, stepping down several times had triggered the overcompensation effect and she had torn the boot in half and punched a hole in the floor, much to her embarrassment and Vinyl's chagrin.

Octavia would have to adjust for that, but she wasn't quite sure how: she wanted Moonbeam to be able to defend herself in a worst-case scenario as well. But perhaps if she hooked up an adrenal sensor of some kind, the limbs wouldn't gear up to full kinetic output every time Moonbeam stumbled a little or tried to put her hoof into a shoe.

Being able to watch Moonbeam in a more natural setting was helping a lot with working out the flaws in her designs, however, and Octavia had also run through a few different methods of at least hiding the limbs, since the Changeling was still very self-conscious about them. Leggings worked fairly well, but by themselves they left the metal sockets and hooves exposed: boots were out of the question, but wraparound rubber hoof shoes helped disguise her balance pegs. Long clothes helped, but anything too light or fluttery got caught in the joints and breaks in the mechanisms.

She thought that ultimately the best thing she could do to 'conceal' the limbs was to just paint them the same color as Moonbeam was. That way, at a distance at least, they would be difficult to identify as synthetic.

It really wasn't important, Octavia knew: one way or another, Moonbeam would have to learn to swallow that self-consciousness and concentrate on herself. It was funny, she reflected, how a Changeling of all creatures could be so anxious about what other ponies thought of her: but then again, she supposed the Changelings were meant to try and blend into a crowd and not draw attention. She imagined that being stared at was likely unpleasant for most of them.

Octavia hummed a little under her breath at the kitchen table as she sorted through her research notes: overall, she was very pleased, though. Things were going very smoothly, and since Moonbeam had been opening up more, she had been able to fill in several gaps in the research of the other Luciferin. And with all of Ponyville and the surrounding area as their playground, she had been able to put Moonbeam's limbs through several real-world stress tests they hadn't been able to do in Square Hammer's labs, such as climbing a mountain, or a hike through the forest. Moonbeam had been happy to comply: really, Octavia thought, she had been delighted to go on those little trips with her and Vinyl.

She did wonder about how much love Moonbeam was taking in, and where she was getting those emotions from, but at the same time, she knew that Changelings didn't need to feed on love as regularly as ponies ate. While they had attempted to gather love in massive amounts from Canterlot, much of that love would have been taken back to the Hive, to be fed to their young and stored for later.

Sometimes Octavia wondered what would have happened if the attack on Canterlot had been successful: would the Changelings have taken hostages, or only drained their victims as much as possible before leaving? Would the Changelings have enslaved them or taken control of Equestria, or would they have simply returned to their Hive and only come back to Equestria whenever they wanted to feed?

Moonbeam wasn't exactly being open on that front, but Octavia didn't think it was just because the answers might not be pleasant: she thought Moonbeam might actually not know herself. 'Changelings did what they were told' was something that the mare had repeated to her several times over: it made Octavia wonder what the Changelings would be like if they weren't under the authority of a predatory queen.

Octavia mused on this for a moment, then frowned and looked up as Vinyl poked her head around the door, looking at her pointedly. Octavia narrowed her eyes at her, before the unicorn said in a mild voice: “You know you're supposed to be practicing, right?”

For a moment, the earth pony blanked, before she blinked and then nodded quickly, clearing her throat as she straightened. “Well, yes. Yes, but don't worry, I'm very familiar with the music and-”

Vinyl grinned at her, and Octavia scowled before the unicorn remarked: “It's funny how you always make excuses about practicing your stupid bass. That's like the only thing you ever make excuses about, too.”

“It's a cello, thank you very much, and I am not making excuses. I know the songs backwards and forwards and I am very confident in my competency. Besides, I have research to do.” Octavia argued, gesturing at the papers in front of her, and Vinyl rolled her eyes as she walked into the kitchen.

“Yeah, right. Your research can wait a few hours, Tavi. Seriously, just take some time and do a bit of practice for a little bit.” Vinyl replied mildly, leaning in the doorway and crossing her forelegs before she added: “I think Moonbeam likes listening to your music anyway. I think she has sort of a crush on you.”

“I'm still not sure whether or not Changelings can love.” Octavia replied bluntly, and then she glowered again at the way Vinyl only grinned at her. But then again, Scratch had always been able to see right through her, for all her other flaws. “I don't really feel that way about Moonbeam and Moonbeam is aware of that. Besides, it's better not to become too involved with my patients.”

“You're no fun. I mean, hey, Moonbeam is... sort of both?” Vinyl fumbled for a moment, then cleared her throat before she asked in a rather pathetic attempt to be subtle: “Which uh... which would you prefer for the... you know? The mare parts or the stallion parts? Uh. Just out of curiosity, since we're on the subject.”

Octavia looked dryly at Vinyl Scratch for a few moments, and then she rolled her eyes before she looked back down at her research notes, pointedly ignoring the unicorn. Vinyl cleared her throat loudly again, then she finally huffed before crossing the kitchen, heading over the coffeemaker as she said grumpily: “Well, you should at least put in some practice.”

“On the mare parts or the stallion parts?” Octavia asked grouchily from the table, and Vinyl giggled before she blushed and cleared her throat, forcing herself to glare at the earth pony.

“On your cello. Everypony gets out of practice, you know. You want to do good at your little concerto or whatever, right?”

“It will only be a short solo performance. Nothing spectacular. A foal could play it.” Octavia answered, returning her eyes to her research before she looked up with Vinyl knocked firmly on the wooden tabletop, sighing and raising her eyes. “Scratch-”

“Tavi, do it for me, then. I know that any foal can play your dumb bass-” Octavia scowled, but then softened as the unicorn continued in a gentler voice: “But you and I both know it takes a lot more than just hitting the right notes to make it sing. Come on. Do some practice.”

Octavia fidgeted in her seat, and then she finally rolled her eyes and sighed tiredly, nodding grudgingly once before she put down her research papers. She lingered for a moment longer, but then pushed herself out of her seat, muttering: “Very well. I... suppose I can spare a few minutes.”

“Good. I'll help. I bet Moonbeam'd love to listen too.” Vinyl paused, then asked curiously: “In all your notes there, did you ever find out if Changelings can like... copy anyone's talents? I get that they do that thing where they sort of imitate a pony's natural abilities, but could Moonbeam like, copy your ability to do a groovy bassline or my skills as a DJ?”

“I do not play 'groovy basslines,' and whether or not your idea of DJing requires any skill is... arguable.” Octavia said pettishly, and Vinyl huffed at her before the mare hesitated, then said finally: “Changelings imitate. They don't truly learn and are not capable of performing beyond the imitation. That often leaves their skills seeming... wooden.”

“I don't see what trees have to do with anything.” Vinyl said mildly, and Octavia gave the unicorn a horrible look, making her grin a bit before she said: “So if you played a set of chords, Moonbeam could probably mimic that same set of chords... but she'd do it without understanding the how or why, right?”

That was surprisingly apt, Octavia thought, studying Vinyl for a moment before she gave a nod and a brief smile. “Correct. The arts, of course, are even harder for Changelings to properly grasp: it's not that they don't understand emotions, perhaps better than ponies, even, but it requires more of a... sense of self. A desire to express our individuality, or our emotions. Changelings... I think, more than not having those things, Changelings hide the fact that they do.”

Vinyl nodded slowly, before she said after a moment: “So Moonbeam is trying to... what, find herself, then? Because I mean, I see her trying things out and all. There were a few days where she was trying to copy your accent, I thought that was pretty cute. And she tries to play the instruments around the house and listens to music and reads a lot.”

“I don't think either of us can really imagine what it's like for her right now, Scratch. She lost everything: her home, her purpose, whatever passes for friends and family among the Changelings.” Octavia shrugged, then she sighed a little and gave a wry smile. “She comes from a society where every last little thing is set to schedules, where you are given a time and a place for every single thing you do. That was part of why she did so well in Square Hammer's labs, and yet here, she seems more... lost. She doesn't know what to do with these freedoms and trust we've given her.”

“I guess a month isn't that long a time to adjust.” Vinyl admitted, shrugging a bit before she poured herself a mug of coffee. She sipped at it, then hesitated before asking: “Do you think she's going to get there? Like, is she ever going to be okay?”

“I do. I believe she needs structure in her life, first and foremost, though: she seems much happier when we give her little chores to do, after all.” Octavia answered, smiling briefly.

“I guess. I just hate to treat her like a slave. I mean. I'm still grumpy about losing my jam space-”

“You have a 'jam space' in the basement, Scratch.” Octavia pointed out, and Vinyl huffed at this.

“Yeah, well, the acoustics were better in that room. And it was better for like. My mind's eye.” Vinyl said, waving her hooves around and nearly spilling her coffee all over herself.

Octavia gave the unicorn a flat look, then she shook her head briefly before she pushed herself up from the table, turning and heading out of the kitchen. She scowled as Vinyl ambled after her, following her to her bedroom, but even though the gray mare pointedly ignored her friend, Vinyl continued to linger in the doorway, shifting a little on her hooves.

Octavia finally looked up grumpily at the mare, but Vinyl only smiled awkwardly before she asked hesitantly: “What do we do for her? I mean... I'm fine with her hanging out here as long as she needs, especially when she's so happy to help out and stuff, and like... I really sympathize with her, but... I don't think we can take care of her forever.”

Octavia frowned as she lugged the case containing her cello up onto her bed: she looked at Vinyl, who was standing at the doorway of her neat little room, obviously nervous about intruding into her little domain. Her room was perfect, prim and neat, everything perfectly organized, and yet it was both the smallest of the bedrooms in the household and it had the fewest personal touches: even Moonbeam's had some scattering of personal objects now, in the shape of little drawings, and a few pictures she had taken of herself.

“I won't bite, Scratch.” Octavia said dryly, and Vinyl smiled awkwardly as she shrugged a little.

“I know. But you respect my space and I'll respect yours and all that. I'm just trying to be better about things.” Vinyl answered, rubbing at her head before she continued in a quieter voice: “I'm not saying I'm against her staying here or anything, just... you know. I don't think we'd make good parents.”

Octavia couldn't help but smile a little at this, answering: “I don't think we have to be her parents, Scratch. She doesn't need that much guidance. She just needs a schedule, she needs to feel that she fits in. And she's very worried that she's getting in the way here and that she's a burden. I think once she realizes that she's not, that she's a...”

Octavia quieted, and Vinyl frowned for a moment before she brightened, leaning forwards and asking teasingly: “Friend?”

“It's not proper for me to be a 'friend' to Moonbeam. She is my patient and I am glad to give her advice and counsel, but it would be improper to be her friend.” Octavia said stiffly, but Vinyl only smiled, watching Octavia drag her cello out of its case before the earth pony mare sighed and dropped the heavy instrument across her lap, idly plucking at a few strings before she muttered: “I'm trying to learn from my mistakes.”

“You've worked with her for months now. Tavi, it's natural that you know, you're going to develop some feelings for her. Even you.” Vinyl said reasonably, before she sipped at her coffee, then said in a softer voice: “I know no one can really force you to feel what you don't want to or anything, but... maybe Moonbeam's all awkward because she feels you trying to keep her at a leg's length.”

Octavia scowled at Vinyl, but she hated how that simple deduction was... she's probably right.

Vinyl grinned a little at her, and Octavia hated that, too: but whenever the unicorn smiled, she always wanted to smile herself. But instead, she sighed and shook her head, looking grouchily away before she grumbled: “Perhaps I will... discuss the merits of our professional relationship with Moonbeam at some point. But for now I have to practice. Shoo.”

“Oh, don't be like that, Tavi. Come on, let's go down to the jam room. I'll tell you all the ways you're playing your double bass wrong.”

“Cello.” Octavia corrected pettishly, and then she sighed again before nodding grudgingly. Before she could pick up the instrument, however, Vinyl quickly snatched it in telekinesis – visibly wincing at its weight and nearly dropping her coffee – and then she puffed and turned, quickly making her way out of the room, Octavia grimacing as the heavy instrument listed from side-to-side and nearly cracked off the wall. “Scratch, be careful!”

“I got it!” Vinyl complained as she headed to the door leading downstairs, and Octavia grumbled as she followed grumpily after the mare. She frowned a little as they descended to the basement, Vinyl placing her cello in the stand at one corner of the cozy little room, but Octavia was more curious about the figure sitting in the recliner.

“Moonbeam, what are you doing here?” she asked, and Vinyl cleared her throat loudly, but Octavia only gave the unicorn a dry look. She didn't think Moonbeam was going to care all that much about her word choice.

The chocolate-colored mare shifted awkwardly, tapping her rubberized hooves together before she said finally: “I just... I guess I needed a break. Ponyville is very exciting, but I think all that emotional energy in the air... it's just making me a little fat.”

Moonbeam gave a small smile, but Octavia softened: she thought she understood. Changelings fed off love, among other emotions, but they weren't used to it in great abundance. She imagined that always having those emotions pressing in on you from all sides was suffocating, after a while. “Of course.”

“Hey, don't worry about it. You can listen to Tavi here. You should come to the performance, too.” Vinyl said with a smile, and Moonbeam blushed but smiled hesitantly at this, nodding a little before she bit her lip as she instinctively looked at Octavia.

Octavia, however, only shrugged and sighed a little before she said finally: “If you would like, you're free to stay. I don't mind practicing with people I know present. And it is always nice to see familiar faces in the crowd.”

“I didn't even know you were giving a concert tomorrow. I'm sorry.” Moonbeam said, but Octavia only smiled wryly as she glanced over at Vinyl Scratch.

“No need to apologize, Moonbeam. Besides, I don't think I would have remembered myself if not for a certain annoying little bird that insists on harping in my ear.” Octavia gave a brief tilt of her head to Vinyl, who huffed at her before the earth pony made her way over to the cello, gently grasping it and adjusting it in its stand before she sighed and straightened.

She reached her other hoof down, then quietly plucked across the strings, making the cello reverberate as a brief smile crossed her muzzle. She closed her eyes, then leaned a little more into the heavy bass instrument as she stroked down the bridge of the instrument, feeling each note vibrate through her entire body.

It was always so hard to put down everything else: her research, her housework, her countless little chores. Music was a silly thing: frivolous, unimportant, meant for enjoyment and not work. So it was always hard for her to get started, to convince herself that there was some kind of meaning to it.

But once she started playing, her whole body resonated with every note, and she lost track of time as she plucked through the strings, adjusting her hoof and movements as she let herself pick up a deep, jazzy bassline.

She hummed softly under her breath, letting the rhythm of the music flow through her, fill her up, clear her mind and take everything else away. That was why it was her special talent, she thought: because when she played, it consumed her. Everything else went away and there was only the music.

After letting herself relax and warm up with the smooth enjoyment of the jazz line, she picked up the bow for her cello and let herself fall into a suite of classical compositions. She swayed a little as she played, her eyes closed, breathing softly in rhythm with the music. She let herself flow with the music, letting the discordant notes, the breaks in rhythm, the pauses for breath all join the melody, expressing herself and letting herself be vulnerable in that way she only could when the music took her over, and she forgot all the things she had striven so hard to learn.

Octavia played for almost an hour before she let the music fade out, and she blinked a few times before she huffed and shook herself out, like she'd just woken up from a refreshing nap. She stretched, then complained: “Scratch, I only wanted to practice for a few minutes. You might be content to fritter away your time doing nothing, but I still have plenty I have to get done.”

Vinyl only smiled a little as she sat back in the couch, silently studying her, and Octavia blushed a little before her eyes shifted to Moonbeam, who was leaning forwards almost out of her seat, eyes wide and horn faintly glowing with her telltale Changeling aura. Octavia wrinkled up her muzzle at this, and then she said shortly: “Horn, Moonbeam.”

Moonbeam blinked, then blushed and nodded, sitting back and calming the glow as she apologized. “I'm sorry, but the emotions in the air were just so... intense. It's like the music augments it somehow. I don't know how that's possible, really, but...”

“Hey, that's what music does! That's why it's so great.” Vinyl answered with a wink, reaching over to nudge Moonbeam gently. “When you listen to someone who really puts their heart into it, you can really feel their emotions. What did you feel, Moonbeam?”

“Sad.” Moonbeam blurted out, then she blushed and shrank her head between her shoulders as Octavia scowled, a faint flush rising at her own collar. “I um, I mean. I'm sorry.”

“Hey, don't be sorry. It's true. It was a little sad.” Vinyl shrugged a bit, looking pointedly at Octavia, who grumbled and shifted her eyes away before she gave a moody little shrug. “Music, I guess, is how some of us express our emotions and all... I mean, I do it all the time-”

“You select songs to play. That is the extent of your expressing your emotions.” Octavia said dryly, and Vinyl huffed loudly at her.

“Hey, I do a lot more than 'choose song, hit play button.'” argued the unicorn, before she turned her eyes to Moonbeam and informed: “Tavi's just jealous of how popular I am, and the super-elite skills I've groomed to become an amazing DJ.”

“I'm sorry, it always felt rude to ask, but... what instrument does a DJ play?” Moonbeam asked almost anxiously, and Vinyl Scratch looked at her dumbly as Octavia snorted in amusement, absently tightening her frets as she smiled over at at the unicorn.

“Yes, Scratch. Tell her what instrument you play.” she teased, and Vinyl scowled at her horribly.

The unicorn turned her eyes back to Moonbeam, and she hesitated before saying finally: “My thing is more making everyone else's instruments sound good, see? I do a bit of remixing and dubbing, too, but mostly I handle all the... the behind the scenes stuff, I guess you could say. A good DJ knows how to shut her mouth and get her job done and not pose in the limelight.”

“That must make you a terrible DJ.” Octavia said mildly, and Vinyl gave her a dry look.

“You know the party scene is different, Tavi. You gotta have personality, you gotta get people riled up and excited. You're an entertainer, but I'm a performer, get it?” Vinyl gestured a few times, before she smiled a bit and added: “Well, when I'm not backstage, that is. I do a lot of backstage work, too. I do the sound systems for concerts, conventions, all that jazz too.”

Octavia smiled a bit at this, relenting after a moment: “Yes, I will admit that... Scratch has a very fine ear. She's always been able to tell when the rhythm is off, even by a sixteenth of a beat, or to identify a string of notes. It's... impressive.”

She chuckled a little, then shook her head before adding dryly as Vinyl grinned at her: “Not that I want to inflate your ego more than it already is, of course. Just... know that I do recognize your talents, Scratch. I just wish that you would stick to what you're good at instead of blathering on about what you're not.”

“Hey, I'm good at music!” Vinyl paused, then she added almost grudgingly: “And I can play a few instruments. But when you have perfect pitch and ears like mine, it's tough, because you hear every note that's even a little off or wrong. Drives me nuts.”

“Even the discordant notes have a reason, a meaning behind them; accept them and move on. That's all you can do.” Octavia answered as she rubbed her bow across the strings, then glanced up questioningly at Vinyl Scratch.

The unicorn tilted her head slightly, then said after a moment: “C's off. Play A for me again?”

Octavia plucked it, and Vinyl chewed on a lip thoughtfully before she said: “Yeah, I think you overtightened it. Loosen it a turn or two.”

“How can you do that? It all sounds right to me.” Moonbeam asked incredulously, and Vinyl only grinned and shrugged before she winked overtop her sunglasses at the mare.

“I was just born with it. Maybe it's part of my special talent, maybe it's a skill I've gotten better at over time, I don't know. You just gotta learn to listen, Moonbeam. That's all.” Vinyl shrugged a bit, and then she smiled and nodded when Octavia ran her bow across the strings of her cello.

Octavia nodded her thanks in return before the earth pony looked up thoughtfully, saying: “Moonbeam, have you thought at all about trying to find your own special talent? I understand you can mimic your predecessor's to some extent, but I'm sure you must have your own interests.”

Moonbeam shifted embarrassedly at this, biting her lip for a moment before she shook her head and said almost apologetically: “I'm not really a pony. And Changelings are all the same, I don't think we really have any special talents of our own...”

“Nonsense. Even if you aren't born with inherent abilities, you are still shaped by your experiences just as ponies are. And, just like ponies, you can choose what you do with your life: whether or not you develop a skill set of your own or choose to explore what makes you unique is all entirely up to you.” Octavia answered, and Moonbeam blushed and bowed her head with a small smile.

She didn't say anything, and Octavia could almost sense the discomfort from the mare. She softened a little, but all the same clucked her tongue before she said gently: “Moonbeam, there's nothing wrong with being an individual. I know that it's not easy to deal with all these changes, but you have an opportunity to learn who you are now.”

“I... suppose. But it's hard.” Moonbeam tapped her front hooves together, then she studied the steel prostheses silently for a few moments before she said quietly: “I don't feel very much like a pony, either. Especially not with... with these.”

She gestured with her steel forelimbs, then she grimaced a bit as she wiggled her rear legs. But Octavia only smiled a little, encouraging after a moment: “Give it time. I understand it's very difficult right now, but you will adjust. Look at how natural they've started to become-”

“There's nothing natural about me!” Moonbeam blurted, and then she blushed as she dropped her head, Octavia frowning as Vinyl gazed at her silently.

Moonbeam's eyes wandered to the side as she chewed on her lip for a few moments, and then she shook her head briefly before she said finally: “I just can't stop thinking about the Hive. It doesn't bother me that I can still sort of hear it these days... it doesn't even bother me that I'm not part of that... that they think I'm a pony now, like I've become... one of you. I... I like feeling like a pony. I want to have my own thoughts, my own dreams, my own talents...

“But I don't really believe I can.” Moonbeam looked down at her metal legs, flexing the rubberized hoof-ends slowly. “I know everything about this mare I've become and yet, at the same time, I don't know her at all. I'm not very good at acting like her, the way she's supposed to be. I like helping out around the town and I like being with these ponies, but it feels like everything I do, I do wrong. I... I think I care about you both, but I don't know what it means, if that makes any sense. And I'm... I'm afraid that one day...”

Moonbeam looked away, before she glanced up in surprise when Vinyl reached over and squeezed her shoulder gently, smiling overtop her sunglasses as she said softly: “Hey, now calm down, huh? You worry too much, Moonbeam. I mean, you're never going to find yourself like this, anyway. You need to relax. Take it slow. It takes everypony a long time to find themselves and you... I guess you're sort of like a kid, just learning about the world.”

Moonbeam didn't look entirely thrilled with his comparison, but Octavia smiled despite herself: Vinyl had the gist of it. She just lacked a certain tact. “What my friend is trying to say is that even us ponies, even with our cutie marks and our special talents and the things that make us unique and mentors and magic to guide us... we're just as lost as you.”

Octavia hesitated for a moment, and then she silently plucked across the strings of her instrument before she bowed her head and said softly: “When I was young, all I wanted to do was follow in the footsteps of my family. But I discovered that my talent wasn't for science, it was for music. I was one of the earliest in my class to receive my cutie mark, and they all awed over me, and yet I felt like I had been cursed.

“It didn't matter that I had already been helping my father with mathematical calculations, or that I was reading decades above my level, or that I was capable of understanding how to counterbalance machinery and magic. I thought that as my talent was music, I had no choice but to pursue a career in it. I thought that it meant everything else I had learned and trained in was all in vain.” Octavia smiled briefly. “I was a dramatic filly. But I suppose... I didn't understand back then that I had a choice.

“It took months for me to start coping with the fact that my special talent was not what I wanted it to be. Longer still for me to realize that just because my special talent was for playing music, that it didn't mean the skills – skills I worked for, honed, practiced endlessly! – were tarnished by my talent being something I had never dreamed it was.

“I realized later that my ability to craft and play music lent itself to my mathematical skills: that understanding rhythm helped me understand better the way pistons must fire, how the machinery must work in tandem with the beat of magic.” Octavia bit her lip, then she shook her head as she murmured: “But it took me years, all the same, to balance my skills and accept that I was not entirely the pony I wanted to be. Even now sometimes I look at my cutie mark, and while I understand why it is music, I wish all the same that it was different.”

Octavia fell quiet, Vinyl looking at her tenderly as Moonbeam studied the mare for a few moments in quiet herself, before she asked: “Why is it music, then? How can you understand that, but not like that part of yourself?”

“I don't dislike it either.” Octavia said almost pettishly, and Moonbeam blushed. The gray mare hesitated for a moment, but then she sighed a little: why avoid the question when she had already revealed everything else? “Because music soothes me. Fills me with peace. Makes me forget everything else, and it is... it is pure. It's uncomfortably optimistic of me to say, but I believe that ponies are good creatures at heart: that even if some of us stumble off the path, we all begin with talents that are meant for good, to better and further each other. Music calms. Music soothes. Music enables understanding across gulfs that no other message could hope to cross.

“And my skills, as much as they are meant to assist, Moonbeam...” Octavia shrugged, gesturing at the Changeling quietly. “I am not blind to the fact they must still be sore, that they are uncomfortable. I know your eye, as well, gives you some discomfort. And as we have discussed, these creations are not meant purely for your own mobility. These tools have helped you regain your sight and your ability to walk, to run, to be autonomous, but at the same time... they are only tools. They are neither good nor evil, and because of that, they will not only be used for great good, but I am aware that in the future, they may be used for great evil, as well.”

“I don't want to hurt anyone.” Moonbeam murmured in a low voice, and Octavia smiled faintly.

“I believe you, Moonbeam. I have never once thought of you as an enemy of Equestria.” Octavia answered, before she shook her head and continued quietly: “When these augmentations become public, however, ponies will want to know how they work. They will decipher them, take my designs apart. And then they will rebuild them. They could usher in a new age of warfare, just as the smokeless guns did.”

There was silence for a few moments, before Vinyl asked finally: “If you don't want that to happen, then why not just... never go public with these designs?”

Octavia shrugged, then she answered with a faint smile: “What is the cost of that, Scratch? That is the demon of being a creator, and why it is not my special talent. I want to help ponies. And I know that most of them will go towards giving the paralyzed, the injured, the wounded in combat and here at home better lives. Do you know how painful and unwieldy our current prosthetic limbs are? And on top of that, they all have short lifespans. But the Type I and Type II limbs will outclass them and could last a pony's entire lifetime.”

She fell silent, and then she shook her head slowly before she murmured: “I want to see that happen. Perhaps I'm greedy. Perhaps I want to believe that just this once, my good intentions won't lead down the path to Hell. But there's also a cold, cynical, cruel part of me, Scratch, that says no matter what we do, it doesn't matter, anyway: sooner or later, one of the other Luciferin will either copy my designs or create their own, and it won't matter anyway.”

“That's pretty dark, Tavi.” Vinyl Scratch said quietly, and Octavia shrugged as Moonbeam slowly turned her mechanical limb back and forth, and then she shuddered a bit as her eyes lingered on some of the scratches across the steel prosthetic: how many times had she tripped and crushed wood, brick, stone beneath one of these hooves by mistake?

There was silence for a few moments, and then Octavia cleared her throat before she said finally: “Cutie marks represent not just our talents, but the way we can best give to the world around us. Whether for personal or impersonal reasons, my skills in science have never led to as many benefits for ponykind as I would dearly like to believe.”

“Come on, Tavi. Stop that. Cheer up, will you? Or at least play a sad song for us.” Vinyl said quietly, and Octavia smiled briefly before she shrugged, then leaned into her cello as she began to play.

Moonbeam listened: she watched the way that Octavia moved with the rhythm, and trembled at the mourning rumble of the bass instrument. The sadness threatened to swallow her up as the music reverberated through the pit of her stomach: how could so much emotion be trapped in those hollow notes?

She closed her eyes and rubbed at her face silently, then snuck a look at Vinyl: the unicorn's eyes were half-closed, but she wasn't really watching anything, her mouth moving in a strange, silent song to Octavia's playing, her sunglasses askew on her features. Her hooves kept squeezing down into the couch, and she trembled a little: not just with grief, but with repression, as she struggled not to blurt her secrets to the air, or leap towards her friend to try and embrace her and comfort her...

Was that love that Moonbeam felt? She thought so. But was it love or was it love? It could be hard to tell sometimes with ponies, and Vinyl was hard for her to read and understand. Harder than Octavia: Octavia wasn't subtle about her emotions, after all. The gray mare covered it all up, but suffocated noises were still all the same: you just had to listen harder for the sounds. Vinyl, however, covered her emotions up with grins and deflections and laughter: it was much harder to break through the emotional noise that the unicorn almost made herself believe than it was through Octavia's facade of stone.

But at least for the moment, Octavia's playing scraped away that noise and left Vinyl bare, and Moonbeam smiled a bit as she studied the unicorn, feeling... yes, love. That was love she felt. Did Octavia know, she wondered? But ponies always seemed blind to each other's feelings...

Moonbeam blushed a bit and turned her eyes away from Vinyl, studying Octavia. The earth pony was beautiful, she thought, especially when she let herself relax, when she allowed herself to just be instead of concentrating on being. She didn't know how else to describe it apart from that, any more than she understood that strange feeling that the music Octavia was playing was coming from somewhere deeper than just skill and repetition, making the chords sound so much fuller, adding dissonance to the harmony that exacerbated and exaggerated emotion, instead of ruining it.

Moonbeam felt love, and she wondered if it was Vinyl's love, or if it was her own: could a Changeling love? Or was that just more proof she wasn't really a Changeling anymore?

The mare lowered her head, rubbing at her face silently with one hoof: what did it matter what she felt, anyway? Who could ever love her? She was different. She had always been different. Ever since she had been a filly, she...

Moonbeam frowned, hen rose her head slightly, feeling a strange, curious spark run through her mind as she realized those emotions weren't entirely her own. She recognized that weight in her chest, but it wasn't coming from her.

She looked at Octavia, and felt the thrumming bass in her stomach and the beat in her heart. She felt the way the rhythm broke now and then, into something she couldn't understand. Moonbeam tried to listen closer, and whatever that hidden rhythm was, it was lost in the noise and the melody; but when she drew back, the story in the sound became clearer, the Changeling licking her lips as she felt the thrum through her chest again, as she unconscious flexed her steel legs in time with the beat.

But why did Octavia feel that way? How could she be so smart, so aware of everything, and yet so blind to the pony in front of her, or that she had a place here? Why was it that instead of seeing all the good she was doing, she came back around to the bad?

Had she been hurt? What could have hurt her so badly? How deep were those wounds, those scars in her soul?

Moonbeam closed her eyes and rubbed silently at her face, and then she bit her lip as the music quavered and her heart shook with it, before she looked up and blurted: “I love you!”

Octavia blinked as she twanged to a halt, and Vinyl blinked dumbly as she snapped out of her daze, and Moonbeam flushed deeply before she gave an awkward smile, rubbing silently at one metal leg. She felt like bolting or running away, but forced herself not to, looking up as she said in a voice that shook only a little: “I just mean... you're my friend, and I really care about you, and... I don't think I'm just an experiment. I know you care. I know you're... you're not a bad pony, Octavia. It means a lot to me that you let me stay here and I... you mean a lot to me, too, and all your kindness and... even if you think or say it's all selfish, I don't think it is. I don't think it even matters whether it is or not, because... you are helping me. You're doing things for me I never really deserved. That no one else would.”

She fell quiet, looking down and shifting a little, before she added as she shyly glanced over at Vinyl: “Other ponies care about you too. You don't... have to shut us out.”

Vinyl looked lamely away before she covered up her emotions with that grin, pushing her sunglasses hurriedly up over her eyes even as a faint blush suffused her cheeks, mumbling something incoherent. Octavia cocked her head slightly for a moment, but then she only sighed before she said slowly: “Moonbeam, I understand that you mean well, but... I don't think things are ever so simple as that. Meaning well is good, but what matters are your ends, as much as your means; if my desire to do good only brings harm unto the world, then what does it matter that I 'cared?'”

Moonbeam lowered her head slightly, feeling the mix of emotions coming from Octavia, who for once seemed less guarded, less coldly-logical. No, there was hesitation in her voice: in all the time the Changeling had known her, she'd never heard Octavia hesitate.

Vinyl picked up on it too, giving a bit of a laugh before she said gently: “Hey, it's not like you to be so dramatic, Tavi. You know that Moonbeam's right, though. You've done a lot for her. You did a lot for me, too. It's not like anypony else would have wanted to live with me or helped me the way you have. Can you... just stop worrying about how things are going to end up for once and maybe, just... enjoy the music?”

Octavia was silent for a few moments, and then she hugged her cello almost protectively as her eyes roved away from the two, before she said in her quiet but firm way: “Perhaps we should... move on to another subject.”

Vinyl looked a little disappointed as Moonbeam shifted awkwardly, then she blinked and looked up as Octavia asked her: “Will you be coming to the concert tomorrow?”

Moonbeam nodded hesitantly, and Octavia looked at her for a moment before she asked: “Do you have any favorite songs? I know that you like to listen to the music. I'll play one for you.”

Moonbeam blushed deeply, bowing her head a little before she said hesitantly: “The lullaby. I really liked that lullaby you played one night.”

Octavia cocked her head in surprise at this, but then she shrugged after a moment before she gave a small smile, silently trailing her hoof along the strings of her cello before she said softly: “Luna's Lullaby has always been one of my favorite themes. I... suppose I've always understood how it feels, when you have something beautiful you want to share with the world, but... no one wants to understand it.”

“There's that drama again. And hey, aren't you going to play a song for me, too, Tavi?” Vinyl asked with a small smile and a shrug, and Octavia chuckled a little, tilting her head as she gave a brief smile in return.

“I'll play you the same song I always play you, Scratch. It's not like you ever ask for anything different, after all.” Octavia answered, and Vinyl laughed as Moonbeam shifted a little, looking between the two with a funny sort of feeling she couldn't entirely comprehend.

So many emotions. She didn't think ponies could feel them the same way that Changelings did, but how could they be so blind to each other at the same time? It wasn't like they weren't expressive, like even without her Changeling magic, she couldn't see their smiles, their body language. Why were ponies so blind to each other?

Moonbeam fidgeted on the spot, biting her lip as she drew her eyes between Octavia and Vinyl Scratch: she wondered what it was like, to love someone, to be loved back. Part of her wanted to experience that so badly that she was drawn, for a bare moment, back to those old Changeling ways: to become the image of what a pony loved, so she could taste that emotion, feed on it. But she almost violently rejected that thought: it wasn't just that she wasn't able to mimic anymore with these prosthetic limbs, it was that she didn't want to hurt her friends.

Even if, at the same time, she felt a little... jealous, she thought, of the two mares, and what she imagined they could have together. After all, she cared about Octavia, too. Octavia had helped her find herself, had helped her shape this new person she was supposed to be. And when ponies loved, they loved with all their hearts: she was afraid that if Octavia and Vinyl understood there could be more than just friendship between them, she would lose the little time and affection she got to spend with her... friend? Am I allowed to call her that? To think of her as my friend?

Moonbeam didn't know, but she dearly wanted to.

And what would friends do for each other? If she were a pony, what would she want?

The best for her friends, she imagined.

Moonbeam hesitated for a moment longer, and then she asked: “Vinyl, um... you must do some kind of music of your own, right? Maybe Octavia could play something you wrote.”

Octavia cocked her head as Vinyl gave an awkward laugh, waving a hoof lamely as she said hurriedly: “No, no, uh, hey, that's a cool idea and all-”

“Well, if it is a 'cool idea,' Vinyl, I don't see any reason why I couldn't do so. I'm sure it wouldn't take me very long to master one of your... 'sick beats,' as you refer to them as.”

“I thought you didn't like playing, you know, non-orchestral stuff on stage, though.” Vinyl said, looking overtop her sunglasses with surprise.

Octavia shrugged a bit, and then she gave a brief smile before she said finally: “I suppose I can always make an exception this one time. Maybe I'll even end with a bit of jazz for once. Every now and then it's good to step out of your comfort zone, Scratch, and show a bit of your range. You... well, you and Moonbeam both taught me that.”

Vinyl smiled, and Octavia couldn't help but smile back. And as she looked between them, Moonbeam blushed and lowered her head a little, feeling the emotions flowing from both ponies, and both wishing she could help them realize how much they cared for one-another, and that she could truly experience what love was like for herself.

Who Was, Who Was Not

Chapter Five: Who Was, Who Was Not

Moonbeam huffed a little as she hiked up the trail heading into the mountains, nervously looking back over her shoulder at Ponyville. It wasn't really that far away yet: she had only been walking for thirty, forty minutes now, and she thought that if she galloped back it would take her less than half the time to get home.

But it still made her nervous to leave the village, even if Octavia had made the suggestion that she take a little walk out to where the original Moonbeam had lived. 'Original' Moonbeam... that made her feel a little bad. Both because she was 'Replacement Moonbeam' and because she had no idea what had happened to that poor mare...

Guilt. That was a familiar emotion by now, but Moonbeam took a breath, holding it for a moment before she let it whoosh out, breathing the guilt out with it. All she could do was shrug it off and keep going, and figure out her own life. It wasn't like she had really replaced Moonbeam, after all: the fact she was a Changeling was a badly-kept not-secret in Ponyville. Ponies just... looked the other way, she thought. No one really used her name. And while they had been wary around her at first, she got along well with most of the village now.

At first, Octavia or Vinyl had always been present when she'd gone out into the village, and secretly, Octavia had kind of liked that. They had distracted and reassured their fellow ponies about Moonbeam's presence... well, and she had enjoyed having a guide, someone who she could talk to, who she could follow or defer to when things got confusing for her.

It was the funny little things that made her confused, too, like being asked if she wanted an apple or an orange. As a Changeling, there had been a right answer, and that answer was whatever the pony she was disguised as had preferred. Changelings weren't supposed to have preferences of their own, after all. But now Moonbeam wasn't sure what she wanted: apples? Oranges? Pears?

All she knew was that she wanted to find out who she really was, and she just hoped that Octavia was right and this would help her figure that out.

Moonbeam crested the sloping path, and smiled a bit as her eyes locked on a small house in the distance, at the top of a set of cliffs: a cabin that had been converted into a little homestead. There was an untended garden at one side of the house, and a squat tower that stretched only a little above the roof.

She studied it for a moment, then reached back and awkwardly adjusted the little pack on her back, shouldering the equipment she was wearing into better position. Octavia had warned her that it might be a little dangerous for her to travel alone, so she had put together a pack of supplies for her in case anything happened, as well as had her take a rifle with her.

Guns were a Luciferin invention, and Moonbeam thought they were part of the reason Octavia was so pessimistic all the time. They allowed ponies to protect themselves, but they could and were also misused by bad ponies... not that bad ponies wouldn't misuse anything else they got their hooves on. But Moonbeam understood it was both more complex and more simple than that: no matter what you did or built, when you saw someone take what you made and turn it into something it wasn't supposed to be, it was upsetting. And Moonbeam thought it was both a moral issue and a very practical issue for Octavia: the earth pony would be just as upset seeing somepony using her prosthetic devices as a... a prop for a table or something as she would be at seeing it used to hurt someone else.

Well, almost. Maybe that was a little uncharitable for her to think. Octavia was a good pony: she just also very much liked things to be the way they were 'supposed' to be.

Moonbeam smiled a little at that thought: she guessed that meant she really was lucky, since she didn't really 'fit in' to any of Octavia's plans, she imagined. But here she was: being taken care of by ponies, being taught what it meant to be a pony, being protected and watched over by two ponies who she just sort of stumbled into the lives of. No, even less than that: Octavia had found her and saved her and given her a new life, when she easily could have just walked on and left Moonbeam another casualty of war in Canterlot.

These ponies were all such good people. It was almost embarrassing for Moonbeam to realize that, how they dwarfed the Changelings in their ability to feel, the way they worked together and reached out to one-another. Sure, they didn't have the training that Changelings did, they didn't have the leadership or the schedules or selflessness, but they had a natural unity that far outclassed the obedience drilled into the Changeling drones.

Moonbeam thought about this a little as she made her way up the path towards the homestead, but the closer she got, the less she was able to distract herself with her thoughts and the more nervous apprehension wormed through her stomach. She bit her lip, then shifted worriedly before she finally halted some ten feet away form the front door, staring at it both yearningly and fearfully: there could be so many answers behind that door. Or maybe she would only find more questions and more regrets...

Moonbeam shifted on her hooves, and then she took a slow breath before she stepped forwards, carefully grasping the handle and turning it. It clicked, unlocked: but of course it wouldn't be locked. You only locked a door when you had something to keep safe, or you meant to come back.

The Changeling quietly slipped in through the door, lowering her head a little: she felt like an intruder, and this felt so much worse, so much more perverse, somehow, than the fact she had assumed Moonbeam's form: it wasn't like she could hide the fact she wasn't actually Moonbeam with her prosthetic limbs, after all. And maybe it was a little scary, too: this was the mare she'd taken over the life of, who she'd 'become' and who was... well...

Moonbeam shuddered a little: she didn't want to think about it. And that, of course, made her feel even guiltier, but she forced herself to shake as much of that as she could off, taking a deep breath before she let the door swing closed behind her, letting her eyes slowly rove through the dusty interior of Moonbeam's home.

It was pretty, and well-organized: the signs of struggle here and there made that neatness just stand out all the more. Moonbeam began to step forwards, then flinched as she stepped on something that cracked beneath her hoof, drawing it sharply back before she looked down and saw that she had stepped on a piece of stained glass: a broken piece of a broken window that was scattered across the floor.

Moonbeam looked around: none of the windows of the household were broken, but she quickly noted a small rack filled with other stained glass pieces. She carefully picked up the larger section of broken windowplate and awkwardly fitted it back into the rack, studying it for a moment before she looked around again.

Sparkling ornaments hung from the ceiling, glimmering with their own light: that was why even with the curtains pulled, it was still bright enough for Moonbeam to see. She could see a lot of glasswork, from stained glass to decorations to fancy glassware, but there were also strange, glowing pictures here and there on the walls...

Moonbeam blinked as she noticed what looked almost like a stain on one wall: it was a tarry black, the outline strangely familiar, with a bunch of speckled holes beneath the vague shape of a... Changeling?

Moonbeam did a double take before she realized what must have happened: a drone had been blasted by Moonbeam's magic, and it had left an imprint on the wall, almost like a paint splatter. She studied the stencil intently for a few moments, then looked around at the glowing objects, the painted beacons on other walls, and she wondered if maybe this was part of why the mare had been chosen in the first place.

Changelings didn't just take ponies at random, after all: if they just wanted ponies, there were always plenty of travelers and vagrants and outsiders to kidnap. No, they tried to lure in and capture ponies who could infiltrate deepest into pony society, or they took ponies with abilities that would be useful to the Hive.

Changelings couldn't perfectly mimic a pony's abilities, but they were certainly capable of imitating most of their talents and magic: it just came with the territory of what they were. Furthermore, the longer they spent studying a pony and their abilities, the more accurately they could mimic it.

She imagined that a pony like Moonbeam, who clearly had some kind of control over light and luminescence, would be extremely useful to the Changelings and their operations. She had picked up a few of Moonbeam's tricks herself – enough to make it seem like she had a grasp on her own special talent, at least – and while they were mostly party tricks, she imagined that if Moonbeam was still imprisoned in the Hive, by now a team of Changelings had likely mastered the full range of Moonbeam's abilities and converted some of them to work in conjunction with the Hive's own particular magic...

Changeling beacons, passing secret messages through light... who knew what other abilities Moonbeam's talent could offer the Hive, if adjusted and played with a little? Changelings weren't like ponies, after all. Ponies were born with innate abilities: Changelings had to work for everything, developed skills, not talents. But unlike the ponies, they were able to develop their skills very quickly, and could learn the basics of just about anything.

“Jack of all trades, master of none.” Moonbeam murmured as she made her way across the room, hesitantly opening the door at the back. It led to a short hallway, with a staircase leading up and a few doors off to either side. Further inspection revealed a closet, a bathroom, a tiny little kitchenette, and a small bedroom that looked like it had gone unused for a long time... probably even before the Changelings had arrived to take Moonbeam.

The original Moonbeam, Changeling-Moonbeam thought.

She smiled faintly, then she shook her head as she hesitantly stepped into the room. It felt like an intrusion, but she couldn't help but feel there were answers here. The answers she needed for herself, as she studied the room silently.

There were a few photos on the wall, some scattered books – mostly on art and art theory – and some more glass art here and there. Moonbeam opened the drawer in the little bedtable curiously, and found a jumble inside that looked mostly unimportant.

This bedroom wasn't used very often, that much was clear. It wasn't the personal space that she had expected. What did that mean?

Moonbeam tuned and let herself out: the closet had junk, the bathroom was tidy but empty, the kitchenette had a lot of instant meals and noodles, all of them single serving. The owner clearly didn't get much company: likely didn't want much company, either.

The Changeling turned and made her way to the staircase. A metal hoof stroked carefully along the railing before she hesitated, then began up the steps. The stairs rose straight, but then circled upwards until she pressed up against a trapdoor, carefully shoving it open to emerge at the top of that little tower that stretched up above the house.

She pushed up into a room that seemed like half-observatory, half-studio: it was all still very neatly arranged, with one half of the room dedicated to what seemed like an artist's tools, and the other full of astronomy equipment. Or at least, what Moonbeam thought was astronomy equipment.

She looked up at the roof, gazing through an enormous skylight at the blue, warm daylight above. She thought that it amplified the light coming into the room somehow: she knew from the memories she had taken from Moonbeam that it a key component of her art, that she used the skylight like a lens to augment her glasswork with moonlight.

Those memories of Moonbeam's had gradually begun to fade from her mind, however: maybe it was due to the fact that her link with the Hive had faded, or that she had rejected her Changeling heritage, but she was losing the bits and pieces that helped her play the role of 'Moonbeam' and she was instead forming her own memories, bonds, and attachments; it was little wonder the Hive had been so quick to throw her out, she thought bitterly.

But then she shook her head quickly, focusing back on the task at hoof and reminding herself that any Changeling tended to start forgetting their disguise's memories after a while. But you could bring those memories back easily enough by doing little tasks that the subject would do, letting your Changeling instincts guide you and 'becoming' that pony in more than just appearance...

Moonbeam let her hooves guide her, walking over to pick up a plain sheet of glass before she headed to the little worktable beneath the skylight. She set it down, and without knowing what to do or even what she was doing, her magic automatically grasped several tools and brought them in.

She hummed a little as she began to score the glass with the glass cutter, tracing out a basic shape. She smiled a bit, then winced as she pressed too hard, the glass cracking loudly, but the mare only laughed awkwardly as she loosened the pressure, mumbling: “Okay, okay, let the tool do the work by itself...

Moonbeam carefully plugged away with her other tools, and after a few moments, she smiled lamely as she lifted a piece of glass into the air that vaguely looked like an apple. It was ugly and messy and Moonbeam was reminded of the painful truth that Changelings could never do some things as well as their counterparts...

But it served its purpose, Moonbeam thought, as she carefully set the crudely-shaped piece of glass down. She grimaced a bit as she rubbed slowly at her forehead, closing her eyes as she felt a faint tingle of pain before she automatically reached out and grasped a drawer in the shelf, pulling it open.

“She had headaches.” Moonbeam murmured, looking into the drawer with a small smile: some pain pills, but also a bottle of whiskey. Strong whiskey, at that, which made Moonbeam's head swim a little just at the smell. “And she was sad a lot. But she didn't have anyone to talk to and she preferred self-medicating anyway. She was...”

Moonbeam couldn't figure out the word. Strong? Stubborn? Or just apathetic? She wasn't sure. It felt like a mesh of things, surprisingly negative as much as positive... but then again, ponies had always been such complicated creatures.

Moonbeam smiled briefly as she looked slowly around the room, and she saw it a little more clearly now: yes, everything looked so perfectly organized, but there was more of a... a clutter here. Not mess, necessarily, but so much was packed into one place, and there were so many more signs of it being lived-in.

She reached down automatically, grasping another drawer and opening it, and found not tools, but boxes of dry food. The Changeling lifted one of these loose, studying it for a moment: half-empty, out of place, the drawer jumbled with other bits and pieces of food debris. She put it back, then ducked under the desk, and found there were a few books hidden away here, with some dusty personal belongings; a few old pieces of sculpted glass, some jewelry, a wallet and a set of keys.

Moonbeam carefully picked up the last, the keys tinkling as she examined them: there were quite a few keys here, and while one or two were likely for the house, the rest were too small or too oddly-shaped to be door keys. They also didn't make any memories spring to mind for the Changeling, which meant they were either very important to the original Moonbeam, or just a trinket.

The Changeling guessed the former, and it wasn't something she would have tried to dig out of Moonbeam's memories: as her mission didn't involve a lot of direct interaction with friends or family, she had only learned the basics about Moonbeam, what little she'd need to know to properly fake a normal pony's life.

She started by testing the drawers in the table: the top she found locked, but to her surprise, none of the keys fit. Moonbeam bit her lip as she felt along the drawer, feeling a flicker of memory: there was a trick here, wasn't there?

She jiggled the drawer carefully, then lifted up slightly before she gently tugged forward, and there was a clack before the drawer didn't so much unlock as it came loose. She was able to gently pull it forward, looking down at the pile of photographs and painted pictures that filled the drawer.

She quietly moved her hoof through these, stirring through the contents, feeling all the memories they brought back: pictures of old friends, family, and more, she realized. All of whom were gone now... Moonbeam was alone. That was another reason why they had targeted her, because she was easy prey, because she had few guests and no real links to the rest of the world, but only now was the Changeling really realizing exactly how far that loneliness extended.

She wondered silently if that was why Moonbeam lived out here, alone: she wondered if that was why it was clear no one had been by to check on the mare, even though months had passed. Well, she supposed, since they knew she was a Changeling and she was imitating Moonbeam, maybe all those missing ponies were having their bills, their homes, their jobs temporarily suspended...

Funny, to think about that: ponies were almost child-like creatures, and their societies and culture were very open and giving and trusting, as she had learned, and yet they still paid taxes, had bills, worked jobs. They were neither communist nor socialist, and many of the ponies worked jobs that had nothing to do with their special talents in order to make ends meet. Most ponies weren't born to be fry cooks, after all.

The Changeling picked up one of the pictures on top, studying it: the memories it brought back were foggy. She thought these were Moonbeam's parents, but family memories, in particular, had been extremely hard to extract. She didn't know if that meant there had been some trauma in the past, or it was just a deep, ferocious love that Moonbeam didn't want to reveal, that she'd do anything to protect...

The Changeling mused for a few moments, then she shook her head slowly before she put the picture back. She slid the drawer mostly-closed, then pushed out of the seat, looking around the room, letting the other memories she had taken naturally fill in the gaps.

Something was missing here, she realized, but what? The tools were all neatly arranged, the books were scattered but none were out of place that she could see. The materials were all in easy access and there were no other locked drawers or cabinets; everything was right out there in the open...

That was part of the trick though, wasn't it? Everything was out in the open. Moonbeam was smart, subtle, and secretive, and she kept everything that was important to her close by. And if it wasn't in the trick drawer, then...

The Changeling's eyes roved to a shelf of supplies, studying it for a few moments before she approached. Memories came back: Moonbeam had heard something downstairs. Movement, a sound like someone was there... were these her memories of being taken?

But before she'd gone to see what was happening downstairs, Moonbeam had grasped something, and shoved it into this shelf, where it blended perfectly among the other prepared materials. The Changeling's eyes trailed to this sheet of glass in particular before she gently extracted it from among the other sheets of colored glass, and then she smiled a little as she floated it in front of herself, studying it quietly.

It resonated with her magic when she focused a spell through it, but she was disappointed to find that even if she could imitate Moonbeam's magic, she wasn't able to do it perfectly enough to fool the enchantment on this artfully-designed piece of glass. There was an image of some kind hidden here in what seemed like nothing but a wild pattern of scratches over the surface: when she concentrated her magic, the image came into blurry form, the lines almost seemed to shift and rearrange themselves subtly, but... it was never quite enough.

Still, she was on the right track. She thought that the answer was here – and in a way it was – but it wasn't what she thought it was. She slipped the piece of glass back into the shelf as she turned, making her way back to the trapdoor, following the ghosts of memories as she felt Moonbeam's emotions sing through her body as she traced the steps she had once taken.

These memories had been recent, and yet the Changeling had considered them unimportant, because they told her what she already knew about: what she'd failed to realize, however, was that while she knew the Changeling team had captured the pony after a brief struggle, she had been blind to Moonbeam's side of it, and how much that told her about the mare. But they were coming back now, in force, and now they were teaching her things she hadn't even imagined she could learn.

She relived what Moonbeam had gone through: the fear and yet the anger and the determination that she had felt as she made her way down. Flashes of bad memories that the Changeling could feel, but the meaning of were hidden from her sight: they were just like sharp knives, piercing her brain, both making her want to shrink back but also drive forward.

The sense of having a home, that this was her home and she wasn't going to be driven out by anypony, and she wasn't going to hide, either. She was going to fight because she had never fought before, and she was all alone out here anyway, and there was nowhere to run, nowhere to go.

She only had herself.

Moonbeam had always only had herself.

The Changeling pushed open the door, gently: Moonbeam had barreled into it, shoulder first. She'd startled the Changeling team, even as well-trained as they had been, but she had been shocked by their appearance, and lost that chance to strike, to maybe scare them off.

But when the Changelings had moved, self-preservation and fury had leapt up and Moonbeam had blasted one of them with her magic.

Moonbeam looked at the stain on the wall, but now her memories filled in more of what had happened: the Changeling being slammed against the wall, screaming like it was dying! But no, it had only been shocked and stunned and almost pasted to the wall by the blast of magic.

The other Changelings leapt at Moonbeam: one of them took another bolt of energy to the face, but it was much weaker, barely stunning it. She wasn't fast or ready for the tackle from the other one, either, and it knocked her back into the wall, the mare gasping before she kicked reflexively out.

The Changeling was knocked off, and Moonbeam scrambled away. She lost her bravado, her anger, to panic and fear. She was scared. She didn't know what was going on. Her pony-instinct was taking over in the face of these monsters that were coming after her, and three were so many more than one and they had predator's teeth and they reeked like the earth and they had twisted, monstrous bodies-

She fired off several wild blasts of magic as she tried to make a run for the exit, but it was the worst thing she could do. It let one of the Changelings tackle her from the front and the other get behind her, grabbing her and pinning her down. The moment they had her held down and under control, the Changeling knew it was over.

Moonbeam had been sapped of energy: dangerously weakened, the Changeling thought, because the others had been almost as scared of her as she had been of them. It was funny to think about: the only real difference between them and ponies, she was learning more and more, was that they didn't understand their own emotions, so they substituted training for feeling. But things still slipped through, like how they overdrained this poor unicorn because they were afraid of what she might be capable of, even though she hadn't really hurt more than a Changeling's pride.

The Changeling stood in the middle of the room, looking slowly back and forth before she gave a faint smile: that was Moonbeam. Fearless and yet afraid. Angry, rash, but who liked everything in order. A little controlling. Who put on a hard face but was as scared as any other pony and sometimes didn't follow through with her promises.

Ponies were complicated things, and the new Moonbeam realized she had done a poor job of imitating the old Moonbeam. Maybe that was why the other scouts had always seemed so exhausted, and the drones who had taken over ponies local to Canterlot were always complaining about how hard it was to keep up their disguises. Even Queen Chrysalis hadn't really been able to do a great job imitating Princess Cadance, if she remembered right.

Moonbeam lowered her for a moment, thinking quietly to herself. She was entirely different from the Moonbeam she had seen in those memories. She wouldn't go rushing into a situation like that. She didn't think she was that brave. Being selected as a scout had seemed exciting at first, but then actually serving as a scout like she had... it had been hard. The ponies had been so nice. She didn't really want to hurt anyone, or even upset anyone.

The Moonbeam who had been hadn't really cared as much about other ponies or their feelings, though. She, Changeling-Moonbeam, had been opening up, and was striving hard to learn all about ponies and friendship; Pony-Moonbeam had locked herself away and given up on all that. It made her feel sad. Just how could a pony turn away from all of that?

What had happened to Moonbeam in the past?

Did Changelings really take on the personality of the ponies they were supposed to be? Certainly, she thought she'd taken on at least part of Moonbeam: the obvious parts, or maybe the pony Moonbeam wanted to be like, or who she had once been.

But they were different.

Did that mean she wasn't really Moonbeam, and she wasn't really a Changeling, but she was her own... whatever she was?

She bit her lip at this thought, lowering her head for a few moments before she murmured: “I don't know. I want... I want to be me. I am me, aren't I? I just wish that I could learn more about her...”

She stopped, then frowned for a moment, looking uneasily to the side: Changelings rarely killed, she knew. A dead pony was useless to them. But... that was an insane thought. Even if Moonbeam was still in the Hive, she was an exiled Changeling. There was no way they'd let her into their territory, let alone walk out with a prisoner...

If only there was something she could do. But she wasn't either an ambassador or a hero: she had no experience or training negotiating, and if she made some stupid, reckless charge, she knew the Changelings would quickly take her down. She would end up suffocated under the raw number of drones, sapped by an assault team, or simply pummeled by a Queensguard.

Moonbeam shivered a little at this, before she flinched in surprise as there was a buzz of static before Octavia's distorted voice asked: “Moonbeam? Are you there?”

“Y-Yes. Yes, you startled me.” Moonbeam answered, giving an awkward smile as she reached up and touched one of prosthetic limbs: it had a built-in tracking device and walkie-talkie, letting her always be in communication with Octavia. She would never admit it because she was afraid the ponies would find it 'creepy,' but she found it comforting: it was like she was still in contact with the Hive. Not in a bad way, in a good way, but she thought that Octavia sort of understood how she needed a little guidance in her life still.

“Did you reach your model's home?” Octavia asked, and Moonbeam smiled despite herself. She guessed it was true: she had modeled herself off Moonbeam physically, at least, but mentally...

“Yes. I made good time.” she answered softly: she knew that since Octavia could track her position, it wasn't like the earth pony didn't know where she was anyway. But it seemed sometimes like Octavia needed to manufacture a reason to start a conversation with anyone, even the ponies she knew. “I already took a look around and I learned... I think I learned most of what I needed to...”

“Remember that you can bring up your Heads-Up Display to scan for more information, Moonbeam. If you can find a residue of Moonbeam's magic, you can use that to trace her movements as well. There should be enough energy residue left in areas she frequented for you to detect it, assuming her home has remained undisturbed.” advised Octavia, and Moonbeam nodded quickly before she awkwardly tapped at the side of her head, then squinted until her artificial eye gleamed, wincing as readouts spilled across half her vision.

She heard Octavia sigh, and Moonbeam blushed a little before she said awkwardly: “It's still very difficult to use.”

“I know. It's a prototype, still. And your magic pathways are wired a little differently from a unicorn's, so the technology isn't entirely in synchronization with you.” Octavia sounded almost apologetic, and Moonbeam blushed a bit, shaking her head quickly before she looked around the room, smiling a bit at how the glass arts around the room all glowed so radiantly in her vision.

“Oh, no, it works really well. I really appreciate everything you've done for me, honestly.” the Changeling said quickly, and then she blushed a little before her eye settled on the stain of magic on the wall: it glowed in her vision. “Is that enough?”

She heard a faint clicking before the earth pony confirmed: “More than enough... except there are two distinct energies present. This second residue actually seems very similar to yours, Moonbeam... is it from a Changeling?”

“Yes...” Moonbeam hesitated as a strange idea came to mind, biting her lip before she asked: “Is it possible for me to follow both? I mean, both together...”

“Possibly... as long as they remained in close proximity, I can help you set the lens to primarily detect residue from both sources.” Octavia said after a moment, and Moonbeam blushed and nodded, bowing her head a little in thanks before she flinched slightly as her she felt a momentary sting of pain before new readings began to spill across her vision.

She closed her other eye to minimize the confusion between her artificial and natural eye, and she grimaced at the strange trails and vapors she could now see throughout the room, twinkling beneath the light of the glass baubles. She turned and noted that those trails condensed into splotches around the door, the mare striding to push this open before she bit her lip as she leaned outside.

The readings were much fainter out here: she guessed that the changing weather and environment made the traces of energy fade that much faster. But it seemed like luck was with her, and she noted several more splotches around the side of the house, following a faint trail of energy that had possibly been protected from the weather by the overhang of the structure.

She followed the faint trail around to the back: she thought she was detecting more Moonbeam than Changeling, but there were still glimmers of Changeling aura here and there. That only brought more questions to her mind, though: what was around back that Moonbeam had gone to see so often, and how had the Changelings known about it?

Moonbeam soon had her answer: behind the house, there was a small shed of some kind, the door clearly broken and traces of magic all over it. The Changeling frowned in surprise at this as she approached, studying it intently before she grimaced as memories filled in as well: fainter, though. Scratchier, as she saw Moonbeam fighting the Changelings...

They had sapped her again here. But they had done more than just drain her, they had sedated and confused her, which was why her memories were so fuzzy and indistinct. She rubbed slowly at her head, wondering for a moment why they would do something like that: normally they would just knock out a pony and then take them prisoner. Why go through all this trouble?

Well, the answer was obviously ahead. Moonbeam strode to the shed, biting her lip and hesitating for a moment before she grasped the broken door and pulled it open, then she frowned as she found what looked like an additional workspace. But it was a disorganized, messy jumble, and when she first studied it, all she could see was wild splatters of Moonbeam's energy...

She felt a stinging in her eye, before Octavia said thoughtfully: “Give me a moment to isolate her energy again for you, and... yes. Very interesting...”

Moonbeam blinked a few times, then stared in surprise: there was a large cluster of energy floating above the worktable, and the mare leaned curiously forwards before she murmured: “Moonbeam can infuse unicorn magic into glass... what if that means...”

It clicked for her after a moment: maybe that was why the Changelings wanted her. If they could figure out how to store love in crystals and glass instead of their own bodies and hive nodes, then they would be able to not only store love for much longer periods of time, it would be much easier to move. She'd heard that creating a new hive was extremely difficult: there needed to be a vast supply of love for the Changelings to feed off of in the area, and that often meant drones were swollen to the brim with love: but the longer love was held in a body, the faster it was absorbed. Hive nodes died when they were removed from the hive and their other means of transporting love were incredibly difficult to keep defended.

But if they could store it in something that was easier to move or protect, they could set up a Hive anywhere. Was that part of why Chrysalis had been so intent on attacking Canterlot? Because she wanted to set up a new hive in Equestria, which was rich with love and resources?

The Changeling bit her lip nervously, and then she shook her head quickly even as Octavia asked: “What's wrong? Your neural readings spiked for a moment.”

“I think I know why the Changelings captured Moonbeam. Why she might have been so valuable to them.” the Changeling said slowly, before she shook her head and looked down at one of her metal limbs silently, murmuring: “How much trouble have I caused...”

“None at all. You didn't choose your form, after all, Moonbeam. It was chosen for you. Now before you start blaming yourself, I think you should concentrate on heading back to Ponyville. We can discuss what you found here.” Octavia said firmly, and Moonbeam blushed but smiled a little despite herself, giving a small nod.

“Okay. But I...” Moonbeam hesitated, then she bit her lip before she murmured: “I think I should come back here. Not just to learn more about Moonbeam, but-”

“We can discuss it all tonight, Moonbeam. Come back to Ponyville for now.” Octavia said, surprisingly gentle, and the Changeling smiled a little despite herself before she gave a brief nod, sighing a little before she turned and took a breath, preparing herself for the long trek back.

Back in Ponyville, Octavia leaned on one foreleg, studying the small console in front of her, set up in her little closet. Readings ticked across the screen, but for the moment, Octavia closed the connection, shaking her head before she blinked in surprise as a hoof gently touched her shoulder. She looked back to see Vinyl Scratch smiling at her, sunglasses propped up on her horn, eyes soft as she said: “You can't keep the kid forever.”

“I... I know.” Octavia said grudgingly after a moment, sighing a little. She looked back at the console for a moment, then she shook her head briefly before pushing herself back from the shelf the computer sat on, turning around with a brief smile. “You're in my room.”

Vinyl smiled and shrugged as she turned to leave, and Octavia sighed a little, but then only shook her head and followed after the unicorn with a wry smile. Well, she supposed, even if Moonbeam left, at least she'd still never have to worry about being alone.

Trial By Fire

Chapter Six: Trial By Fire

The last few weeks had moved too fast for Octavia's liking. Moonbeam had been spending a lot of time out at her model's little home: Octavia and Vinyl had visited out there with her once or twice, and noted that she'd cleaned much of it up and made herself at home in the little bedroom there. Moonbeam had awkwardly babbled all about how it seemed like the bedroom had been unused and she was trying hard to respect her predecessor's privacy, and while Vinyl had been skeptical, Octavia had only taken one look around and understood. The bedroom had been very similar to hers, after all.

They had discussed what Moonbeam had figured out at some length over the first week, and Octavia had repeatedly talked Moonbeam out of trying to go back to the Hive to 'save' the ponies being held there. Still, unbeknownst to Moonbeam – and really, Octavia didn't know why she had done it herself – the earth pony had submitted a report to Princess Celestia on the matter under the pretense of Luciferin research: Moonbeam had told her quite a bit about how the Hive kept prisoners, after all, and Octavia thought that the other Luciferin might not have made the same discoveries as she had.

The cold, logical part of her said there was no point bothering to stage a rescue operation for a few ponies: it would end up being little more than political theater, where they showcased a bunch of their soldiers and made some empty threats so that ponies could feel like they were actually cared about.

But what if there was a chance to do more than that? There was another little voice inside her that kept asking that question, that defied all logic with some strange feeling that Octavia had never really experienced before. Was that hope? But what was the point of having hope when logic clearly stated something else?

You couldn't deny facts just because they weren't convenient to you, or what you wanted to believe. That was how Octavia had always lived her life, in a search for truth, not hope.

Still, she supposed there hadn't been any harm in compiling that research and sending it along. Perhaps it would be useful in the future, after the Luciferin developed further countermeasures to the Changelings, or if any ponies important enough to risk a rescue were ever captured.

But to her surprise, Princess Celestia had responded by asking her to bring Moonbeam to Canterlot with her at the end of the month, for a special meeting where she would present her findings and all the information she had accumulated on the Hive. Octavia felt extremely nervous about it: she didn't know what she was going to say to Celestia, and the last thing she wanted was for Moonbeam to get her hopes up and then be disappointed.

More frustrating for her, that seemed to encourage both the little voice in her head and Vinyl Scratch to gnaw at her some more with their ideas that they should 'do something.' That was easy to say, but didn't they realize that the repercussions for 'doing something' could be far worse than doing nothing at all. Did they want to give the Changelings a reason to kill their hostages instead of release them? Did they want to risk the lives that could be lost and captured in an uncoordinated, low-intelligence attack on the Changeling Hive?

As unpleasant as she knew it was for ponies to think of, the rulers of Equestria had to do what was in the best interests for the entire nation, and sometimes that meant there had to be sacrifices, that some ponies had to suffer for the greater good. That was why the Luciferin existed: that was why scientists like her were trained to think and act in rational terms, instead of allowing their emotions to drive them like every other pony in Equestria did.

But Moonbeam was getting up her hopes and Vinyl seemed to think they were going to just rush in and take over the Hive, and it was starting to make Octavia both a little frustrated and apprehensive. What if Celestia did want them to come up with some way to try and rescue the captured ponies? Or, conversely, what if Celestia and her generals had determined that the Changelings were too great a threat to allow to live, and the captured ponies were acceptable collateral damage?

She didn't really want to be a part of that, either. Maybe she could recognize that it was the best possible decision, but it wasn't something she wanted to be a part of. Besides, that was more Square Hammer's skill set, not hers.

But that meant she also didn't really want to get Moonbeam involved with what might possibly be plans to exterminate the creatures who were, for all intents and purposes, still her former herd. She knew Moonbeam wasn't happy about what had happened, but she highly doubted she hated them to the point she wanted to see them die, either.

So it had been a fitful, frustrating few weeks. She felt too many things she didn't want to, and while she'd like to pretend it was the others who were grating on her patience, in reality it was only her own mind running away with her. It wasn't as easy as it had once been to simply distance herself from her patient and her roommate: was that a flaw? Was that some failing on her part?

She didn't know. She didn't want to think so, at least. She did recognize that, for better or worse, she had allowed Moonbeam to get closer to her than was strictly necessary, but Moonbeam was very persistent and had proven surprisingly good at making friends. Maybe it was that desire to be a pony that drove her, or the fact she had been pushed out of the Hive and told she couldn't be a Changeling anymore, so she wanted to make sure she was the best pony she could be.

Octavia bit her lip as she looked across the little table at Moonbeam, studying her quietly: she looked anxious but ready. A little pale, Octavia thought, and like she hadn't slept the night before. Well, that wasn't much of an assumption, considering she had been up all night herself, going over research, and she'd heard Moonbeam pacing every time she'd passed her room.

Vinyl, in the bench beside her, was trying her hardest to play it cool, but Octavia could just about feel the anxiety coming off her in waves, not to mention the way she was nervously tapping one forehoof against the wall of the train. The earth pony hesitated, then she reached up and carefully touched the mare's shoulder, smiling at her briefly, and Vinyl blinked over her sunglasses at her before she gave an awkward smile back, and a small, thankful nod.

Octavia turned her attention towards Moonbeam, saying softly: “You need to calm down as well. This will all be very routine, I'm sure. A few questions, and then we'll go on our way. I know you might be hoping for more than that, but please. Remember that this is bigger than just what we may desire ourselves.”

Moonbeam smiled awkwardly and nodded a few times, and then her eyes roved downwards before she murmured: “I just think that if there's anything at all we can do... we should try and do it, shouldn't we?”

“Yes and no. That kind of thinking is why you and I aren't good leaders, Moonbeam. But I like to think it also pushes us to do things that other ponies would hesitate to do. There is no reward without risk, after all.” Octavia answered with a brief shrug, and Moonbeam studied her for a few moments, which made Octavia frown and tilt her head curiously.

“It's just... do you really think we're similar?” she asked meekly, and Octavia laughed in spite of herself, giving a slow shake of her head.

“More than you might rightly understand, Moonbeam.” Octavia answered, and then she turned her gaze towards the window, biting her lip for a moment before she suddenly said: “I do want to help the world. Help, not harm. But any tool I create is only so good as the hooves that use them, Moonbeam. Look at your prosthetic implants: those legs can allow you to walk a thousand miles and climb even the harshest of terrain. To go places no other pony could go; they've returned your mobility to you and have allowed you to do good things for other ponies: don't think I haven't seen your little escapades around Ponyville.”

Moonbeam blushed, and Octavia smiled briefly as she looked over at the mare, saying quietly: “But they also have the power to crush more than stone or kick more than trees. Some ponies wouldn't be satisfied with that alone: some ponies would use these tools to take revenge on the world they think took everything away from them. And even if I made some perfect set of prosthetic limbs that could never harm another pony, still, they could be used in the service of... things I'd rather not think about.”

Octavia fell silent, and then she turned her eyes back out the window, but she didn't shrug off Vinyl's hoof when it gently settled on her shoulder. They rode the rest of the way in silence to Canterlot, but even if it wasn't what Octavia would call precisely 'comfortable,' it was thoughtful, at least.

Thoughtful: a funny word for it. As if 'thinking' always made things better. But even just having Moonbeam and Vinyl present seemed to do a lot to soothe her thoughts, brought a balance to her, somehow. She liked that, even if part of her feared it was a failing, or a vulnerability.

But Octavia did her best to just concentrate on the here and now as they made their way from the train station to Canterlot: it was a dreary, dark day, and the thunderous skies above made their journey seem all the more final somehow, like they were passing some kind of point of no return. Everything was about to change: Octavia knew that was a stupid thought, but at the same time, she couldn't stop herself from thinking it, from feeling it was true. Something being stupid didn't make it any less true, after all.

They were greeted by an aide outside the castle, who brought them around to one of the private entrances instead of the crowded public doors: Moonbeam seemed almost disconcerted by the treatment they received, and Vinyl tried to put on a brave face, but Octavia thought that only she was in any sense prepared for what was happening right now, let alone what laid ahead of them. It was one thing to be invited to talk to the Princesses: it became entirely something else when you actually arrived and began to go through the process.

And it was a process: she thought even Vinyl recognized that they weren't just being escorted to some nice, cozy, private waiting room, but that the aide was vetting them as they walked. They passed through beautiful stone archways that also had some of the best magitech in the land built into them, scanning them from multiple angles as they passed through. The aide's pleasant conversation was spiced with a few very precise questions: where had they been recently, what contacts or visitors had they had; small but important things.

Octavia wondered briefly what details local security would have on them: not just the solar guard, but the elite who guarded Celestia with the help of Luciferin inventions. They had given her all the usual security protocols: no weapons, no strange substances, no magic amplifiers, but they had also asked for Moonbeam's emergency shutdown codes, which she had supplied with some hesitance. She didn't want them turning off Moonbeam's limbs, after all... not that she didn't have her personal overrides, but still...

She glanced up as the aide cleared his throat, and the earth pony gave a brief smile before she said: “Apologies. I was just going over my presentation. I don't want to waste anyone's time, after all.”

“Not to worry, Miss Octavia. I was just reminding you that Princess Celestia is interested in interviewing Miss Moonbeam as well as yourself. You can be present if Miss Moonbeam desires, but following your presentation, Princess Celestia will want to speak to Miss Moonbeam directly.” the aide said with a kind smile, but that smile did nothing to soften the order only half-hidden in his eyes.

Moonbeam shifted uncomfortably, but Octavia nodded, replying evenly: “Of course, I understand that fully.”

“Good.” The aide smiled more openly at this, and then he nodded once before gesturing around the little waiting room, saying pleasantly: “Please take your seats. We're just finishing setting up in the next room and we'll call you in once we're ready.”

Octavia nodded politely again, and Vinyl waved lamely as Moonbeam only shifted a little. But the aide didn't acknowledge any of them as he turned and left, and there was silence for a few moments before Octavia sighed and gestured at the comfortable little chairs around the cozy little room... which likely has foot-thick titanium walls, magnetic doors, and every other security measure imaginable on the off chance they determine we're hostile... “We might as well settle in for now.”

Vinyl Scratch shrugged and tossed herself down across two chairs, while Moonbeam settled into another near the corner, nervously looking back and forth. Octavia walked over to sit beside her, saying gently: “Waiting is difficult, but necessary as a safety precaution. It allows them to judge our stress levels and to determine whether or not we're trying to hide something. I know you don't like to think about it, Moonbeam, but I'm sure a few ponies are still a little afraid of you.”

“I know. I... I hate that.” Moonbeam murmured, shaking her head briefly before she gave a small smile, raising one stockinged leg and studying it silently: even though the stockings were fitted especially for her unique limbs, it didn't hide the fact that they looked narrow and distorted compared to the average ponies' legs. And even the nice little poncho Moonbeam was wearing didn't really hide the differences in the shape of her body made by the mechanical implants.

Moonbeam looked up at her worriedly, but Octavia only reached up and gently squeezed the mare's shoulder, saying softly: “Try not to worry yourself. They know all about us and why we're here. They may not be as kind to you as you deserve, but they won't treat you like a monster, either.”

“I hope not.” Vinyl muttered, scowling a little over her glasses before she quickly pushed them up, grumbling: “We went through all their stupid security stuff already. I thought we were just coming here to answer a few questions and stuff.”

“You're just here to... enjoy the experience, as I believe you put it.” Octavia said mildly, and Vinyl huffed before the earth pony added, as gently as she could: “Please just remember to be respectful. It will be good to have you here as a witness, but... no shouting, even at Square Hammer. Even if he deserves it.”

“Douche.” Vinyl said, and Octavia sighed even if she privately agreed, and Moonbeam blushed and covered her mouth, as if to hide a smile. “I told you already that I'd behave, didn't I?”

“A reminder never hurts, Scratch.” Octavia countered, before she hesitated and confessed: “And besides, the reminder is good for me, as well. Sometimes I too am struck by the urge to... speak rashly.”

Vinyl grinned despite herself, before scowling when Octavia added: “And you might want to remove your sunglasses, by the way. We'll be in the presence of the Princess, after all, not to mention the Luciferin and other nobles. They will want to see your eyes.”

Vinyl grumbled under her breath, but then she nodded and reached up to remove her sunglasses. She looked awkwardly down at them for a few moments before sighing and hanging them off the collar of the jacket she was wearing, muttering: “I guess you're right. Doesn't mean I have to like it, though.”

“Well, Scratch, then you'll be pleased to know you aren't supposed to like it. It's an honor to be here, it always is... but I rarely like it, myself. It's a terrible amount of pressure and stress, and... I suppose I have never been good at bowing my head to authority figures.” Octavia answered with a brief shrug.

Then she turned her eyes back towards Moonbeam saying gently: “And remember to answer honestly, Moonbeam. You still have a bit of a problem with trying to say the things people want to hear, rather than what they need to.”

Moonbeam blushed and lowered her head a little, mumbling in agreement despite herself, and there was silence for a few moments before Octavia reassured quietly: “Just be yourself, Moonbeam. I know you mean well, and I know you can provide a lot of help to us.”

Moonbeam smiled briefly, and then she glanced up as there was a polite knock at the door before the aide stepped inside, bowing his head and saying kindly: “They're ready for you now. Please follow me, Miss Octavia. Miss Moonbeam, Miss Scratch, we'll call you inside in a moment.”

“Well, remember. Keep a stiff upper lip and be yourselves.” Octavia said after a moment, and then she turned and headed towards the aide, nodding to him once before she gave a smile and confirmed: “I'm ready.”

The aide nodded and turned, and Octavia followed: she wasn't sure if she was really ready or not, but either way, there was no going back.

There was no going back.

Moonbeam breathed slowly in and out as she looked nervously around the transport: talking to Princess Celestia and the Luciferin had been bad enough, but now here she was, trying to hold it together and look like she knew what she was doing with an Equestrian special ops team all staring at her-

“Hey, kid. Don't freak out on us yet, the operation hasn't even started.”

Moonbeam blinked and looked up with a blush at the stallion who had just spoken, and he gave her a grin and a shrug from beneath his helmet, saying easily: “Heard you were the one we're supposed to cover for. We hit 'em hard from the face, you sneak in around back, we wait and get you out.”

“Cut the chatter back there, Jester!” ordered another voice, and Jester shrugged as he sat back, absently adjusting the straps of the harness keeping him locked into the seat.

Moonbeam winced a bit as they hit a bump, feeling the transport jostle, and the other soldiers shifted a bit: less because of the movement, she thought, more because of the CO's baleful eyes glaring across them. Moonbeam did her best not to draw his gaze, but all the same she felt his eyes move to her as he asked sharply: “And you. You know your orders, right?”

“Yes, um, sir. Yes.” Moonbeam said awkwardly, nodding quickly before she winced as they hit another bump. “I'm-”

“I know my orders, you just make sure you do your part, Changeling. We're putting a lot of good boys and girls at risk for this.” the stallion interrupted shortly, and Moonbeam bowed her head awkwardly before she looked up in surprise when there was a loud beeping. “Okay! Get yourselves ready! Changeling, your drop point is here, so move it!”

Moonbeam fumbled at the harness before she stumbled out of the seat, hurriedly patting her mechanical legs across her own body in a quick, awkward check over the custom-fitted body armor she was wearing before she blushed when the officer at the front of the transport snapped: “Grab your gear and move, we're on the clock!”

Moonbeam hurriedly grabbed a U-shaped case from the shelf above her seat, fitting it over her back: luckily for her it snapped immediately into place on its own, thanks to the magnets on her armor. She turned and hurried for the door, blushing a bit as the soldier who had talked to her before called: “Hey, good luck, lady!”

“Shut up, Jester. Okay Changeling, we're dropping you in three... two... go!” barked the officer, and Moonbeam flinched as the door she was standing in front of opened. “Go, go, go!”

She leapt: whether because of instinct or training or ingrained behavior, she didn't know. She leapt out into the open air, and for a moment she tried to fly before she remembered her wings were useless and missing, and she winced as she flailed her legs for a moment before she closed her eyes tightly as she dropped-

She hit the ground hard, but her metal legs barely flinched when she crashed down to the ground, the rest of her body flexing in surprise more than anything else. She bit her lip, then straightened with a short breath, looking up to watch as the transport she had been in twisted in the direction of the Hive, the machine they called a zeppelin sailing through the air like a flying barge.

Moonbeam winced as she heard a great, thunderous bang, and the distance lit up for a moment with magic: was that an explosive? God, everything was happening so fast now, what was she supposed to do? How was she supposed to get into the Hive and-

She had to move. There wasn't any time for panicking, there was only time to move. Moonbeam took a sharp breath, and then she put everything else out of her mind: the sounds of explosions and war, the sights of the zeppelins lowering around the Hive and the swarms of Changelings already surging up from the shell of the nest to meet the intruders.

She galloped across the barrens towards the rear of the Hive, going over their simple plan in her mind for the thousandth time: the soldiers would draw the Hive forces and keep them busy, and she would sneak in around the back. There were a dozen secret ways in and out of the Hive, many of which only certain classes of Changeling were supposed to use, or in times of emergency: it felt like heresy to think about sneaking in like this, but at the same time she supposed she was already an exile, wasn't she?

Moonbeam stumbled her way down into a narrow trench, trying to keep herself as small as possible: she knew that even if most of the Hive's attention would be focused on repelling the Equestrian military, there would still be scanners and scouts on this side keeping an eye out for any ambushes. Changelings weren't known for their creativity, but they both well-trained and extremely thorough.

There were ways to confuse them, though; she grimaced as she focused her magic for a moment, then allowed it to simply disperse, feeling it taking her shape with it. It stung, worse than it should have, but then again, she had gotten so used to wearing her Moonbeam body that she had forgotten it wasn't really her own.

But even though it hurt like she was peeling off a layer of her own skin, there was still a strange familiarity when it was all done and over with, a sense of her whole body loosening up and becoming... lighter, in a word.

She looked uncertainly down at her mechanical limbs as she kept running through the trench, staying as low as she could as she drew closer to the Hive. She just hoped that if the scanners detected her, all they would see would be another Changeling rushing to get back to the Hive, and they wouldn't detect the magical crystals inside her limbs. This was the biggest hurdle to the plan, she thought: well, this and then getting any ponies she found inside out of the Hive.

Moonbeam scrambled her way up a short incline, then winced at how close the Hive was ahead. She could see Changelings buzzing angrily through the air above it, disorganized and confused by the Equestrian technology and weaponry: not just guns and zeppelins, but bombs that released both choking smoke and thick, clinging mist that made it impossible for the Changelings to stay in the air with their bug-like wings.

She winced as she saw a blast of cloudy mist wash across a team of drones, and they fell from the sky, struggling, flailing, screaming-

No, no, no, she couldn't concentrate on that. Moonbeam blocked out the link with the Hive as much as she could: this close, she felt connected to the Changelings again, even if another part of her was so acutely, painfully aware that she wasn't one of them anymore. She was something different.

But did this make her a traitor, too?

No, there was no time for that right now.

Moonbeam's hooves carried her automatically towards the rear entrance of the Hive for a few moments before she caught herself, and it was almost physically painful for her to turn and head for the drainage ditch instead. It went against her Changeling instincts and all the training that had been ingrained into her, but that itself was exactly why she knew this plan was going to work.

She winced as she stomped across several spike traps, stone uselessly biting against her steel prostheses before hit the edge of the ditch and skidded sharply down. It was steep and jagged, and her old legs would have quickly buckled and sent her tumbling head over heels, but her new legs held firm and let her slide all the way to the creek at the bottom without incident.

She splashed down, stumbling only a little before turning and heading quickly through the murk and grime towards the outflow ahead. She bit her lip as ridiculous thoughts whipped through her mind: what if she was caught doing this? What would the other Changelings think? This wasn't what a Changeling was supposed to do!

But she wasn't a Changeling anymore, was she? No, she wasn't coming home, coming to help: she was invading. She was exile, and enemy.

She grimaced as she ducked under the low cavern entrance into the drainage cave, shivering a bit as she waded through the muck: a mix of gunk and garbage and things she didn't want to think about that pulled and sucked at her limbs as she waded through the slime.

After a few moments, the ceiling of the cavern sloped upwards and the cave itself widened into a large natural pool, a faint sloshing reaching Moonbeam's ears: the slime and castoff pouring down from above. She shivered a bit as she made her way carefully around the edge of the lake of slime, biting her lip as she looked back and forth, her horn lighting up and casting an eerie green light over the murky wastewater.

She spotted a narrow path that led up one of the sloped sides of the drainage pool, the mare scrambling up onto the end of this and beginning up before she flinched when something shifted in the darkness, automatically shining the light of her horn towards it.

A green glow washed over a Changeling, and Moonbeam stiffened before her eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat as she realized the Changeling had no horn, its eyes milky and faded, its mottled body filthy with dirt and slime. It leaned towards her, rasping slowly in and out, and Moonbeam could see others shifting in the darkness around them, some clinging to the walls, others skulking over the floor and staring at her.

They were all clipped: slaves of the Hive, left to drudge in the bowels, no longer even considered real Changelings by their own brethren. Moonbeam trembled a bit as they inspected her, realizing the flaw in her plan too late before she flinched when one of them reached out and touched one of her steel legs.

All of a sudden, one of the clipped rose its head sharply and declared: “It is like us. It is one of us.”

“I...” Moonbeam mouthed wordlessly for a moment, and then she winced when another of the clipped stroked one of her mechanical legs through the thin cloth veiling it. She shifted uneasily to the side, trying to think of something to say, even if just to agree with them, but before she could, the clipped shifted away and vanished into the darkness around her, leaving her confused, uneasy, and feeling a little sick to her stomach.

She shook herself out quickly, then took a breath before starting forwards, following a trail that she guessed had been carved throughout the underbelly of the Hive by the passage of countless clipped Changelings. She kept her horn's glow dim, just in case, but even though things shifted in the darkness all around her, she never felt watched, never felt unwelcome: that hurt, somehow. She had been rejected by the Changelings above, but these slaves below welcomed her as one of their own.

No, she had a task that she had to do, and she had to focus on that, and that alone. Not on the clipped, not on the Hive, not on all these bizarre new thoughts about right and wrong that she had learned from the ponies.

She followed the path away from the drainage pool and into dark, uncared-for tunnels: the maintenance tunnels of the Hive. These were used only by the clipped Changelings and the mindless worker drones, the ones who weren't able to think properly for themselves, produced purely to keep the Hive functional.

Higher-order Changelings shunned the tunnels: they were all taught to follow their own specific routes, to stay on the 'right' paths, in the 'right' lane. They were designed to always obey the structures and rules of the Hive, even now, when the Hive was in chaos as the Equestrians attacked. But all they had to fall back on was their own training and the orders of their superiors: they couldn't think for themselves.

It was their biggest vulnerability, and Moonbeam knew it was the key to getting through the Hive. The voice of the Hive was nagging at her, but her time away had taught her that she didn't have to listen to it, that she could ignore it: that was her biggest advantage over the Changelings.

Moonbeam pressed upwards through the maintenance tunnels, moving slowly and quietly. Even though the Hive was shaking around her as the Equestrians attacked, the drones and clipped Changelings were still moving slowly and surely through these tunnels, ignoring her even when she stopped to stare, only ever making the vaguest effort to go around her and usually forcing her to press to the side of the tunnel to get past.

But even if she'd never been in these tunnels before, even if normal Changelings were supposed to avoid them, her instincts told her where to go. The voice of the Hive wasn't strong, but it was still enough to guide her: to follow to the place she wanted to go, as long as she kept it firmly in her mind.

Moonbeam hesitated beside a vent, leaning down to peer through it and watch as several Changelings ran past. Were those soldiers? That meant she had to be near the barracks, which meant that she had to be close to the prison.

Moonbeam nodded to herself, biting her lip before turning and continuing through the maintenance tunnel. She let her hooves guide her, turning at an intersection even though she wasn't really sure if the barracks were ahead of her or behind her, but the image of where she wanted to go was still strong in her mind, and the voice of the Hive was still there, guiding her.

So she followed it, even though it led her out of the maintenance tunnels and instead into narrower, cooler ventilation tunnels. She winced as she scrunched herself down and crawled as best she could through the tight passage, doing her best to only listen to the voice of the Hive, using that to reassure herself...

But why was the voice of the Hive still telling her the right way to go if she wasn't a Changeling anymore, if she was here as an enemy?

No, no time to think about that. Besides, they called it a voice, but it wasn't, really, was it? It was instinct. It wasn't sentient. It wasn't really 'helping' her, she was just-

Lost in her thoughts, Moonbeam didn't feel herself pressing on a thin panel of rock until too late, and she yelped as her metal hoof pushed right through it before she tumbled forwards. She landed with a painful thud, blinking dumbly a few times before she winced and stumbled to her hooves as she saw she had fallen right into a cell.

She looked wildly back and forth, then sighed and grasped her chest, stilling her frightened heart as she noted the cell door was open. So she wasn't trapped, and even if it hadn't exactly been the most graceful entrance, she was where she wanted to be: the prison section.

She shivered a bit as she stepped out into the open floor of the prison: this area wasn't very large, mainly because they didn't have a lot of prisoners. This was a very short-term place: it was where they kept ponies before and after they were drained for information. Her eyes lingered on the restraining rack in the center of the room, and she grimaced as she saw her victim in it, Moonbeam pulling uselessly at the restraints, struggling and angry until the feeding had begun...

The Changeling shivered and flinched a bit, then she shook her head quickly, getting her bearings before her eyes locked on a heavy metal door at the other side of the square room. That had to be the passage down to where they kept their prey in stasis. She'd never been down there before: soldier Changelings rarely crossed paths with workers and harvesters, and had little reason to go down to their love stores.

She made her way to the door and forced it open, then winced as a bit of dust pattered down from the ceiling as something boomed above. She knew her time was limited: she had to move fast. If she could free the ponies below, it would weaken the Hive itself, and she could hopefully get them out the same way she had come in, through the drainage ditch.

She nodded to herself, biting her lip as she slipped into the passage and hurried quickly past an abandoned checkpoint, keeping herself low and not lingering just in case there were still some Changelings present, hurrying down the curling, ramping hall beyond. But she was fairly certain the Equestrians had caused enough of an emergency that all of the Hive's soldiers were being pulled to help fight off the enemy, with only a few left behind to guard the essential areas of the Hive.

She just hoped that meant the love stores would be unguarded. They should be, she thought: located at the base of the Hive and far away from the combat, it was almost wholly maintained by worker drones anyway.

Moonbeam slowed her descent as she approached another checkpoint, pausing at the corner for a moment and leaning around it. There was a Changeling soldier sitting at the checkpoint, but his back was to her, his attention focused wholly on something else.

But they were also right outside the love stores: if she tried to get through that heavy door ahead, she had no doubt she'd alert him. That gave her one option, really, even though it made Moonbeam feel sick to her stomach to think about.

She took a slow breath, then carefully crept around the corner and into the open area. She ducked behind the counter, steeling herself: she could almost feel him, this close. Could he feel her? No, he was distracted. She had to act fast all the same, though: a Changeling wasn't a pony. They were faster, tougher, stronger...

Moonbeam took a breath, then she stood up and leapt the counter, jackknifing it with a smoothness even she hadn't expected her mechanical limbs to give her before she swung a metal hoof out. It smashed into the back of the Changeling's head and sent him face-first into the wall with a sick thud, and he collapsed in a heap.

Moonbeam shivered: she had felt the shock of his pain. That was why Changelings didn't usually hurt each other: lashing out usually made you feel worse because you were connected to all your brothers and sisters, your-

But we don't think of each other like that, as family. We're... not, are we? Moonbeam closed her eyes for a moment, steadying herself before she reached up and rubbed a hoof across her head. Then she shook herself out before looking down at the unconscious Changeling. She was glad he was still alive, but at the same time, this felt like the last straw. Like she had passed some kind of point of no return.

There was no going back. But she'd known that already, hadn't she?

She reached out and picked up what the Changeling had been playing with before, and she smiled faintly: he had been hovering over a communication stone, likely waiting to be called to the field. She glanced down at the Changeling she had knocked out and shook her head briefly: he was young, she could tell by how smooth his carapace was. She had knocked out a kid, possibly on his first assignment.

She didn't feel very proud of that.

All the same, it was time to move on. If there really was no going back, that meant she had no choice now but to prove herself to these ponies. To save every last pony she could.

Moonbeam turned and hopped the counter to return to the door, carefully pushing it ajar so she could peek through it into the enormous cavern beyond: it was filled with eerie green light that came from both the phosphorescent moss and the glowing ooze that made up the cocoons the ponies were held within.

Workers and harvesters trundled constantly back and forth: they seemed completely heedless of the noise or the occasional tremor that went through the Hive. Moonbeam bit her lip for a moment before she took a slow breath as she slipped into the storehouse, planning to be as stealthy as possible-

A Changeling worker brushed past her side, followed by two clipped, and Moonbeam winced and looked awkwardly after them before her eyes shifted in surprise to watch as several harvesters, swollen with love, approached... but completely ignored her as they walked past, heads low and eyes almost hollow, one of them drooling a little as they followed a path that led along the wall, and spiraled upwards to the... reserves, I think.

That was right. The harvesters took the love from the love stores, and brought it up to the central reserve, where it was distributed throughout the Hive. From the activity, it looked like the harvesters were in the middle of transporting today's dose of love... but then again, she wasn't sure if they ever really stopped. Even when the Hive was starved for resources, the harvesters still drained as much as they could from whatever prey they managed to capture.

Moonbeam shivered as she made her way carefully deeper into the love stores, looking nervously back and forth as she passed by several cocoons. She could see floating shapes in many of them: here was the silhouette of a griffin, there was a buffalo. Was she supposed to try and save them, too?

She shivered a little as she moved deeper, towards the source of the glow that pulsed through much of the love stores: a pool in the center, full of liquid love. That was right: even though Moonbeam had never seen it before, never really acknowledged its existence, the whisper of the Hive in her mind told her precisely what it was, how all of this worked. The cocoons held the ponies and kept them in a state of dreaming stasis: every twelve hours or so, workers channeled their magic into the cocoons, when the ponies were 'ripened;' this squeezed the love out of ponies, which fed down through the strange roots and living veins of the hive, and joined the nutrient slurry drones created in the love well at the center of the love stores, making a nectar that would be distributed throughout the entire Hive.

It was an efficient way for the Changelings to distribute and get everything they needed: mental and physical nutrition, and chief of all, love. Normally the slurry wasn't very filling because they only had so much love to distribute throughout Hive: but with so many captured ponies, the Hive had already begun to expand, to grow stronger, and the slurry glowed with the stolen love of Equestria...

Moonbeam shivered a little as she approached the well, studying it silently before she watched as a harvester calmly strode down a natural ramp into the slurry, then bowed his head and siphoned some of it up, to carry it in his rotund belly, where it would be further condensed and processed while the harvester brought it to wherever it had to go.

She shook her head, then bit her lip as she turned around, looking across the cocoons that filled this cavern as reality crushed down on her. There was no possible way she could save them all. She didn't even know if she would be able to cut one open before the harvesters turned on her. And she knew that her time was running out, too: the Equestrians wouldn't be able to keep up the distraction for much longer.

Moonbeam clenched her eyes shut for a moment, and then she shook her head before she looked quickly back and forth for something, anything she could use. But all she saw were harvesters and workers and clipped servants: Changelings didn't have technology like the Equestrians did. She was so close, she was right here, and now what was she supposed to do?

She looked desperately back and forth, then trembled as her eyes caught on a clipped Changeling who was calmly repairing a cocoon, blurting: “I wish you could just help me!”

The clipped looked at her for a moment, and then it simply stopped what it was doing, asking: “What do you need?”

Moonbeam stared dumbly at the clipped, before she glanced up in surprise as another clipped echoed: “What do you need?”

For a few moments, she was too stunned to say anything, before she flinched in surprise when a voice snarled: “Who's there? We're on alert! What are you doing here?”

Moonbeam looked up and paled slightly as a Changeling in armor came running into the open area around the well: he was larger, brawnier than her, with thicker chitin protecting what wasn't covered by shaped steel plating. His eyes caught on her, and his horn lit up with emerald flames as he snarled and leaned forwards aggressively, shouting: “Intruder!”

“Queensguard.” Moonbeam stumbled backwards, then steeled herself, even though she was face-to-face with one of the Hive's elite warriors: fearless, ruthless, and incredibly strong, their sole task was to uphold the Queen's rule in the hive, by any means necessary.

The Queensguard didn't hesitate, leaping forwards and swinging his horn down, lashing out at her with crackling green flame. Moonbeam barely dodged to the side before she winced and brought up a metal leg when he tried to swing a hoof into her: she was still knocked stumbling, the gears in her steel limb grinding together, but the Queensguard staggered as well, cursing and caught off guard by the fact he had just punched metal, not flesh.

Moonbeam took the chance to back off instead of pressing the attack, shocked by the fact he had left a dent in her limb, clearly visible through her now-torn sleeve. The Queensguard set himself, taking a moment to study her instead of pressing his attack before he barked: “Are you from another hive? Or are you a traitor and a thief?”

“My... my name is Moonbeam, and I'm here to free the Equestrians! They don't deserve this!” Moonbeam blurted out, and the Queensguard snorted, baring his teeth in disgust.

“Traitor it is.” The Queensguard rose his head, and his horn flashed as he roared: “Traitor in the Hive!”

Moonbeam felt the message thrumming through the Hive, felt anger boiling through the air around her, pressing in on her from all sides like a physical weight. She flinched beneath it, and the Queensguard leapt forwards, aiming to stomp on her head, but she was able to quickly throw herself out of the way, wincing before her horn glowed as she yanked the rifle off her back.

She took aim, but the Queensguard stepped forwards and swung a hoof out, swatting the barrel of the rifle just as she pulled the trigger: the rifle was knocked out of her psychic grip even as it gave a deafening bang, and the Queensguard howled as he staggered to the side, covering one ear in shock more than pain, face barely scraped by the bullet. Moonbeam swore, but reacted out of desperate instinct, leaping at the stunned Queensguard and slamming a metal hoof into his face as hard as she could.

He was knocked crashing down onto his side, but he rolled quickly back onto his hooves, even as he shook his head violently with a rasp of pain. Moonbeam tried to press the advantage, jumping at him, but the Queensguard caught her and flung her down before he snapped his horn down, and the mare gasped as she was knocked skidding backwards by a blast of eldritch fire, feeling her armor searing and cracking from the power of the magic.

She twisted her body and flung herself back up to her hooves, before she narrowly avoided another blast of malicious energy. The Queensguard followed up with several more, but Moonbeam dodged between these before she swept up her rifle with telekinesis, gritting her teeth as she tried to concentrate on reloading the gun even as the Queensguard continued to lash out at her with magic.

She half-cocked the rifle and popped the burnt-out cap of crystal at the bottom loose as she ducked quickly behind a cocoon. Magic pummeled the other side of it, sending up splatters of green jelly before the Queensguard snarled as he moved to flank, but Moonbeam was fast: a new crystal cap was snapped in, Moonbeam pausing only for a moment to register the blue of the gemstone before she pulled the hammer all the way back and spun around just as the Queensguard leapt around the cocoon.

The Changeling elite winced back in surprise as he found the rifle pointing at his face, bringing up one of his legs as if to defend himself, and Moonbeam hesitated only a moment before she dropped the rifle and fired at his other leg instead. The blast hammered across his limb and made him hiss before he looked down in shock as ice violently spread across his leg and fused to the ground.

He tugged uselessly at his frozen leg, then looked up just in time to see Moonbeam's hoof coming towards his face before it slammed into his jaw with a devastating crunch. The Queensguard collapsed a moment later in a broken heap, leg still frozen to the ground, twitching once before he gave a groan as he fell unconscious.

Moonbeam stood over him for a moment, trembling and indecisive, before she shook her head sharply. She popped the slice of crystal loose from her rifle and loaded a new one before gently lowering the firing pin against it, and then she holstered the weapon on her back, trembling for a moment before she looked up and called: “I need help!”

At first, she was afraid the scuffle with the Queensguard had overrode whatever instinctive need to obey the clipped had: but after only a few moments, several emerged, staring at her in that awful, lost way they had, until one of them asked: “What do you need?”

“We... we need to remove all the ponies from the cocoons and transport them to safety. We need to... move them.” It was hard not to come up with a bogus explanation, but Moonbeam hoped that maybe if she kept it simple...

At first, the clipped didn't seem to respond, and Moonbeam bit her lip before she sighed in relief when one of the clipped approached a cocoon and calmly pushed his hooves into it, gently grasping the pony inside and carefully pulling it out of the viscous substance.

The mare took a quick look around the cavern, watching as the clipped approached other cocoons to begin pulling the ponies free. Many of the ponies remained unconscious, but a few of them stirred, although Moonbeam knew they would be weak: even when the rare creature managed to escape the cocoon on its own, it never got very far. The cocoons kept them alive and dreaming, but their bodies suffered atrophy after so long in the goo.

But without a word, clipped hauled ponies onto their backs, whether they were stirring or comatose, without complaint. Moonbeam did a quick circle of the cavern, biting her lip as she passed several beings still left in cocoons: they wouldn't be able to get every pony, let alone every person. And she knew it wouldn't be very long before the alarm the Queensguard had sounded drew all the Changelings down on top of them.

She stumbled around the cavern as she tried to find a way out, then staggered to a halt, staring at an unopened cocoon that contained... “Moonbeam.”

She trembled, then leapt forwards, slicing her horn through the thin membrane that covered the cocoon before she plunged her hooves into it. She gritted her teeth as goo sloshed and burbled down around her limbs, before she gasped as she pulled down and yanked the mare inside loose, Moonbeam falling down into her Changeling's limbs with a wet splatter and a weak gasp. For a moment, the Changeling hoped and feared she would stir, but Moonbeam settled after a moment, shivering a little, weak and thin and so brittle in her steel forelegs...

Changeling-Moonbeam could only stare for a few moments, then she shook herself quickly before she stepped backwards, away from the cocoon she had torn open. Worker drones were already trundling in to begin cleaning it up, not seeming to notice Moonbeam even as she gently hauled her precious cargo up onto her back. Still, she still had the problem of where to go, of how to escape, and now it seemed all the more pressing now that she had retrieved the pony she had promised to rescue above all else...

She frowned as she watched one of the worker drones walk away, loaded down with already-hardening sludge across his carapace. It didn't seem like he was going to repair the cocoon. Where was he going, then? To a garbage chute, or-

Moonbeam's eyes widened slightly, and then she quickly looked over her shoulder, calling: “Follow me! We're going to leave the Hive!”

The clipped didn't respond, but they didn't argue, either. Moonbeam didn't have time to make sure they were all listening, either way: all she could do was trust in them and focus on her own task.

She turned and rushed down the path, pushing past the loaded-down worker drone as she let her hooves and the voice of the Hive guide her. She could feel a growing anger in the air: was that from the Changeling soldiers drawing closer, or was that the voice of the Hive, trying to warn her about what was coming? Either way, it didn't matter. She was almost out of time and she had to get these ponies out of here, as quickly as possible.

She looked back over her shoulder and she saw the clipped were following after her, but they weren't rushing, either: she shouted at them to hurry up, but even as she did, she knew it was useless, if not counterproductive. But everything was happening so fast and it had all seemed so easy at first but she had underestimated how deep in the Hive she would have to go, or how many prisoners there actually were...

Moonbeam swore and looked ahead, forcing herself to focus back on her task: escape. She shifted the mare on her back to a better position as she let her hooves guide her, running down an offshoot that ramped down into another cavern. This smaller cave was full of building materials, but Moonbeam ignored it all, including the workers who were mixing adhesive and shaping stone, and who ignored her equally in return.

Instead, all her focus was on getting to the other side of the cave, where she skidded to a halt with a wince in front of an incinerator that was burning and rumbling away. She bit her lip for a moment as she looked at the four drones keeping it going: two were shoveling fuel and garbage into it, two were keeping the flames hot with magic, burning everything inside to ash.

“Sorry.” Moonbeam blurted finally, before she grabbed one of the drones and threw him down. The worker landed in a stunned heap, and the others looked up in surprise before one of them shouted as Moonbeam slugged him across the face, knocking him prone. The other two panicked, but even in their panic, one of them still tried to skitter behind the debris, as if he was going to try and continue to feed the furnace even as the other ran away.

Moonbeam leapt on top of the pile of debris and snapped her horn down, blasting him with magic and knocking him in a stunned heap. Then she bit her lip as she looked at the incinerator, then back over her shoulder: the clipped hadn't arrived yet. Now she had just to figure out a way to get through the incinerator and the vent beyond without being burned alive...

Moonbeam bit her lip, and then she reached back and grasped the satchel that contained the magical ammunition the Equestrians had outfitted her with. She pulled it off and dug through it, quickly pulling out a hoof-full of gemstone slices, all of the same distinct blue color, and then she looked up at the open incinerator for a moment before she took a breath, lifting the crystals with magic before gritting her teeth before snapping her horn forwards to sending the crystals rocketing into the inferno.

There was a tremendous bang and gasp of air, Moonbeam wincing and stumbling as first hot, then terribly cold air whipped past her. The incinerator screamed like a living thing as metal and stone both cracked and crumbled, reeking, thick fog filling the air and making Moonbeam's lungs burn as she coughed and rasped, stumbling backwards, then catching herself as she automatically reached back to steady the pony on her back.

She swung her horn forwards, using magic to blast away some of the fog: enough to reveal the outline of the now-dead, broken incinerator, and the shattered venting beyond. She hesitated only a moment before leaping into the ruined furnace, coughing as she pushed through the humid, uncomfortable air to the hole in the back of the incinerator, where brittle metal venting had collapsed into broken ruin.

Moonbeam leaned into this, grimacing at how the passage beyond still felt hot, but she could also feel a draft, and the thick smog was wafting down this way. Where did it lead, though? She didn't have time to check, she had to make a decision: leave immediately, or wait for the clipped and get as many through as possible...

She came here for Moonbeam. She wasn't going to pretend this wasn't selfish on her part: she wanted to prove herself to the Equestrians, to help them, sure, but most of all, she wanted answers for herself: she wanted to save this one pony above all others.

But she had already been forced to leave behind who knew how many captives, and all she had to do was be patient, and maybe they could get out of here...

Or maybe she was sending them to their death, at the end of this tunnel. She didn't know how long the fall was or if there was even really a way out!

Moonbeam trembled, but she had to believe. She had to at least try and do the right thing, and she knew a chance like this wasn't going to present itself again. Now that the Changelings knew there was a traitor, they would increase security and she'd never be able to sneak back inside...

And like a sign, she heard a crunching, a moment before a clipped calmly stepped into the incinerator behind her. Moonbeam bit her lip, then slipped out of the passage, gesturing quickly at the clipped and ordering: “Get to a safe place and wait for me! We're... we're all leaving together!”

The clipped didn't respond, but it walked into the passage, and Moonbeam guessed that was enough of a response as she hurried out of the incinerator and ran past the line of clipped. Several worker drones had stopped to watch the passage of the caravan with a strange fascination, as if they couldn't believe what was happening, and Moonbeam bit her lip before she blurted out: “You can leave too!”

“What? No. We can't just... leave.” one of the workers answered, looking confused. “The... we're part of the Hive. This is what we are, where we belong.”

“It doesn't have to be. You... we can be anything.” Moonbeam argued, but the Changeling worker only stared at her like he didn't understand... and he really didn't, she thought. But how could she blame him? All he'd ever known was the Hive: was existing for the purpose of the Hive, and the Hive alone, and staying in line and doing the one job he'd always had.

For a sickening moment, Moonbeam missed that: that self-assuredness, that familiarity, that safety. But she knew that as logical, as simple, as easy as it had been to be obedient and nothing more... it was madness, too.

“The Hive wants you to be free.” Moonbeam said before she even realized what she was saying, and the workers all stared at her now, watching her instead of the procession before she shouted: “The Hive wants us to be free! It's the Queen and the Queensguard and the elite that want us to obey! But I still hear the voice of the Hive, because the Hive knows that if we're going to survive, we... we have to change, but that's what we do! We're Changelings! We're not... slaves!”

The workers shrank away, looking confused, scared, and Moonbeam bit her lip before she flinched and looked up with a wince as a voice shouted: “Traitor!”

Two hulking Queensguard smashed their way into the storage cave, carelessly knocking both clipped Changelings and their pony cargo flying. One of them almost immediately unleashed a blast of green fire at Moonbeam, and she winced and ducked away, staring in horror as the magical blast smashed into a shelf of supplies and knocked it crashing down on top of a worker, who howled in pain. “Stop it! You're hurting them!”

“Kill it!” The Queensguard ignored her, lunging forwards, but they were slowed by the parade of clipped still trying to pass through the cave, who seemed almost like they were getting in the way of the soldiers on purpose. But they barely slowed the Queensguard, who crashed through them like battering rams, and even though Moonbeam didn't want to fail, didn't want to abandon all these ponies and the clipped who were just like her, just like her, she had no choice but to turn and run.

She felt tears running down her cheeks as she weaved through the clipped marching towards the incinerator and the Queensguard crashed and staggered their way after her, shouting in frustration and anger.

Moonbeam ducked through the incinerator and into the vent passage, wincing as she almost rammed into the back of a clipped and pushing it quickly forwards as she looked anxiously behind her. But to her surprise, she saw two clipped stop at the entrance to the vent, blocking it with their bodies even as the Queensguard forced their way into the broken furnace, before she flinched when she heard the smack of a hoof pounding into a carapace.

But the clipped didn't move, and Moonbeam cursed under her breath: it would only be a few seconds at most, but she hoped it was enough time for them to escape, as she turned her eyes forwards and pushed the clipped in front of her onward, hurrying him down the narrow stone passage before she blinked as he seemed to vanish under her hooves, a moment before she half-fell herself into a steep chute.

Her metal hooves kicked down into the sharp slope of the slide, wincing as she skidded sharply downwards and leaning back to try and keep the pony on her back from falling off before she yelped when she was ejected from the bottom of the slide, flying out to crash down into the drainage pond with a splash. She coughed, then panicked for a moment as she realized she'd lost Moonbeam, looking wildly back and forth, before her eyes widened as she saw a clipped was already fishing the unconscious mare out of the muck for her.

“T-Thank you...” the Changeling Moonbeam stuttered out, but the clipped didn't respond, only hauling the pony onto his back. For a moment, the mare stared at this, feeling it refusing to connect in her mind before she realized that all the clipped that had come with her from above had already been carrying ponies.

She looked around: the clipped all had their cargo. The ponies were in varying states of injury and unconsciousness and filth, but the ones who had escaped all seemed alive, at least. But all the same, she could see at least six clipped who were only lingering with the rest, and then the clipped that had picked up Moonbeam for her...

“What do you need?” asked one of the clipped, and Moonbeam realized that somehow these other clipped had simply... joined them. Had she started some kind of bizarre exodus?

There was no time to think about that, though.

“We're leaving.” she said, before she could question herself, and then she turned and quickly headed for the exit of the cavern, and it took all her strength not to look back to make sure the clipped were following her. But she could hear them splashing along behind her, slow, steady, and unrelenting, and the mare was both thankful and somehow afraid of what she'd started as she led the way out of the Hive.

The only goal now was to get as far away as possible, but she didn't think that would be hard. The Changelings inside the Hive would be furious, but the ones on the exterior was still distracted by the bombardment from the Equestrian forces, and when she tried to get a sense of things, she could almost hear the voice of the Hive, telling the Changelings to keep at the front, to let the Queensguard deal with what was happening inside.

Was it trying to help her, or was she just wishing and hoping that it was, giving it a sentience and a kindness that didn't exist?

It didn't matter. She just had to take every advantage she could get.

She focused herself, then flinched a bit when she felt a spark of pain before her synthetic eye flashed, readouts partially obscuring her vision ahead. At the same time, the communicator on her mechanical limb buzzed before she leaned down, saying quickly: “I've... I've got as many prisoners as I could escape with and... uh... I've got a bunch of people here. Changelings. Changelings that escaped with me. Can you-”

“We need your coordinates.” interrupted a brisk voice. “We'll pick up the captives-”

“And the Changelings! They were... you need to pick them up too! My coordinates are uh... N42 by 48 by 47 and W89 by 38 by 37!” Moonbeam said quickly, reading out the number on display, even though she still wasn't entirely sure what they actually meant. “We need a full transport, we have at least twenty-”

“A transport is en route to your location and soldiers will be dropped in to assess the situation. Keep moving away from the Hive so we can secure the zone.” advised the voice on the other end of the line, and Moonbeam grimaced before she nodded and cut the link, stumbling her way forwards.

She didn't have to give the order: the clipped continued to follow her until they were a good distance away from the Hive, but she only stopped when several pegasi descended from above and dropped in front of her. They looked uneasy, but when Moonbeam stopped and bowed her head to them, and the clipped made no further movements, one of them whistled before he asked: “The hell happened to them?”

“They're... clipped. It's what they do to Changelings who don't listen. They're... they helped me. They're like me.” Moonbeam almost pleaded, and then she reached up and rubbed at her face before she blurted: “I just want to get them out of here, please! They'll die if they go back, they'll.... they'll die.”

Or worse, Moonbeam thought, not wanting to imagine what the clipped would be forced to endure on top of losing their wings and horns.

The pegasi looked at each other, and then one of them sighed before grasping the radio on his shoulder, saying: “Overwatch, I hope you have a big transport en route, you've got a lot of people to get out of here. These... these Changelings aren't hostile.”

“Thank you.” Moonbeam said with a smile, trembling a bit before she closed her eyes, lowering her head as she repeated weakly: “Thank you.”

The ponies had driven in two huge transport vehicles that had taken all the prisoners and clipped aboard, where medics had immediately attended to the injured. They were visibly unsure of what to do with the clipped, but since the clipped stayed quiet and didn't ask for any help, they let Moonbeam handle riding with them and checking them over.

They had returned to Equestria, and while the clipped had been escorted to a secure facility for now: on the bright side, many of them were getting treatment, not interrogations. But it didn't take long for the Equestrians to realize there wasn't really anything to be gained from the clipped, anyway: even if they hadn't been just slaves, they were so broken that neither threats nor bribes could get anything out of them.

Moonbeam hadn't thought about what the clipped would be like outside of the Hive: sometimes they seemed like they had just shut down. But there were little things, here and there, that spoke to her, told her they were just waiting for the right motivation, the right spark to turn them back on: the way their rooms were never disorganized, the way they clustered together, how they reacted – even if only slightly – to ponies coming and going.

She had hope.

The Equestrians had rewarded her for saving a dozen or so ponies, but Moonbeam didn't feel like she had done enough. She was told they would all recover, in time: that was good, she couldn't deny that. But other ponies had been left behind, and the Hive would put even more of a strain on them, draining more love from their bodies every day... what if she had just made things worse?

So she poured herself into helping the clipped, and helping take care of the injured ponies, even though everyone told her that she had already done so much. But she could still help: Changelings couldn't feed love back into ponies, but her natural ability to read emotions allowed her to help the medics figure out which ponies were in pain, how they were coming along, what they needed even when they couldn't speak or move.

Octavia said she should come home, but right now, Moonbeam needed to be where she was. She needed to keep busy. She needed to keep working, as she walked quietly around in her stolen pony disguise, doing what she could to help.

She sighed, then turned and blinked in surprise when she almost ran into a handsome stallion in a military uniform, who grinned at her as he reached up and gently caught her shoulder. She almost reached up and grabbed his leg, but thankfully stopped himself: that was good. The last thing she needed to do was accidentally injure a soldier.

No, he wasn't a soldier: well, he was, but he was dressed like an officer. He was handsome, with a polished roan coat, but his eyes were sharp. His short, peppered blond mane was brushed back, neat and styled, but his collar was untucked and loose. He was high enough rank that no one could yell at him for being untidy; not so high that there wasn't a sense of hurry around him, like he had places to be, people to please.

“Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you.” he apologized, and then he smiled at her before he introduced himself: “My name's Overwatch. I'm in charge of mission intelligence. You performed really well out there, Moonbeam, and I'm here to offer you a job.”

Moonbeam blinked, and then she smiled awkwardly before she half-turned away, starting lamely: “I have... I have a few things to do here, still, I don't know if-”

“I read your file. I know you were a scout for the Changeling forces. I also saw what you did in that Hive. You brought a lot of ponies back home, along with some Changeling prisoners-”

“Clipped. Slaves. They were... slaves.” Moonbeam shook her head, then she turned away, but the stallion simply fell into step with her as she headed down the ward, mumbling: “I appreciate the thought but I don't think I could do... I don't think-”

“We need someone who can help teach us about the Changelings. Who can identify them on the field and who can deal with them. But the Princesses, after seeing the clipped, don't just want ponies who can hunt and kill Changelings. Maybe our enemy isn't the Changelings themselves. They're just doing their jobs, after all.” Overwatch said, and Moonbeam hesitated, coming to a stop to look back at him before he continued gently: “I'm just here to make the job offer. I know you need time. I know you have some... personal stuff to take care of. But I also know you're looking for a place to fit in and you want to help. This could be your chance to do that.”

Moonbeam was silent, and Overwatch smiled at her before he shrugged and said: “I'll leave my contact information with Miss Octavia, and some other information. Talk it over with your friends. I think we can benefit each other.”

Overwatch smiled at her, and then he gave her a little wave before he turned and left, Moonbeam standing for a moment in the middle of the ward before she shook her head quickly, then sighed and turned around, trying to refocus herself.

She headed over to the bed near the back of the ward, silently slipping past the curtain around it before she sat on the stool next to it, looking quietly down at the mare under the sheets. Moonbeam, the original Moonbeam that she had copied. She was still unconscious, comatose, her vital signs weaker than most of the others: she thought it was because Moonbeam had been one of the ponies who had been fed off of and copied, not just harvested for love.

The Changeling hesitated, then she reached out and gently touched her model's shoulder, looking at her and wondering aloud: “What would you want me to do?”

She didn't know. Moonbeam was rash and loud and... a little bitter, but beneath it all, shy and anxious. Moonbeam wasn't a lot like the Moonbeam that the Changeling mare had pretended to be.

She wasn't really Moonbeam. She kept forgetting that: not in the sense that she thought she was really a pony, but in the sense that... she didn't have to do everything Moonbeam would. She could make her own decisions. She should make her own decisions, instead of asking herself what someone else would do in her position.

Even Changelings could, should, be able to make decisions for themselves. Even Changelings should have their freedoms.

She lowered her head for a moment, and then she bit her lip before she whispered: “If I could... I'd help. I want to help. I haven't done enough, I don't feel like I've done anything but made things worse. I want to help. And not just... not just to make it up to the ponies anymore, because I want my Changelings to be free, too. We can be more than just monsters. Changelings can change.”

The Changeling bit her lip, then she looked up, and blushed in surprise, raising her head slightly as she saw Moonbeam's eyes were open, looking up at her silently.

The Changeling smiled widely, and Moonbeam tilted her head ever so slightly, before she murmured in a strange, confused voice: “But you're not me.”

The Changeling blushed, and then Moonbeam shifted slightly before she closed her eyes, falling back unconscious. But she was right, the Changeling thought: she wasn't her.

She was her own person.

Epilogue: Moonbeam

Epilogue: Moonbeam

Moonbeam the Changeling hummed a little to herself as she dusted the inside of Moonbeam the unicorn's cottage. It was important to keep everything clean: not because Moonbeam really cared about appearances, but because any dust on the glass would make blotches when Moonbeam focused her magic on it.

She worked methodically: it was boring, repetitive, monotonous, and it was exactly what she needed right now. It kept her mind off other things and other worries and the fears that hadn't gone away, even though she'd really, honestly thought they would once she was out of the line of fire, after she proved herself to the ponies.

Her mechanical limbs hummed and clicked as she continued to work: she used magic to pick up the sheets of glass, but gently rubbed a rag across each surface by hoof. She didn't entirely understand why Moonbeam – real Moonbeam, that was – had been so firm about her not using magic to just blow it all clean... but this was good. This made her focus. This made the rest of the world less threatening.

She grimaced a bit as these thoughts tried to intrude, looking up briefly, but then shaking her head and looking back down at the glass. It wasn't important, or real. She had to keep that in mind. Moonbeam didn't take as kindly to her coming crying as Octavia always did.

That made her smile a little: and yet once upon a time she'd thought of Octavia as harsh and unfair. But getting to know her had changed things, helped her understand her, and they'd become good friends, as well as student and mentor. She hoped that getting to know the real Moonbeam would help with the same... although it was going to be a longer process, she thought. As much as she knew about Moonbeam already, well...

She glanced up as she heard hoofsteps, then smiled a bit as the back door of the shop opened and Moonbeam herself leaned out. She squinted in the dimness of her own shop, her mane a frazzled mess, leaning heavily against the doorframe before she turned her eyes towards the Changeling, not speaking, just glowering a little. Trying her hardest to hide how weak she was after all the time she'd spent being fed on and comatose: the Changeling admired that pride, that stubbornness, that determination.

The Changeling gently put down the piece of glass she had been polishing, walking over to Moonbeam and asking: “What would you like?”

Moonbeam scowled at her clone, her eyes roving down to those mechanical legs before she shook her head shortly, not bothering to say anything. But the Changeling could feel Moonbeam's emotions, and understood what those looks and fidgets meant: she was angry, she was upset, and all of it masked the fact she felt strangely guilty and inferior, like she couldn't take care of herself...

“That's not true at all.” the Changeling reassured gently, and Moonbeam scowled at the floor, not looking up, not meeting her eyes, and biting down on her emotions. The Changeling smiled briefly in spite of this, then she shook her head before she asked quietly: “Would you like something to eat?”

Moonbeam didn't answer, only grumbled as she half-shoved past the Changeling to look around the room like a hawk searching for prey. The Changeling could feel her frustration, and what was almost desperation: that desire to find something out of place, to lash out, to not feel replaced... “I don't want to...”

The Changeling halted as Moonbeam twitched slightly, and then she cleared her throat before she instead said: “I'm going to go make us a snack. Would you like some?”

Moonbeam didn't answer. The Changeling wished she would. That just once, maybe, she'd speak her mind. Instead, she always had to try and read Moonbeam's confused emotions, which were always such a muddle: when she was angry, she was grateful. When she was resentful, she didn't want her to leave. When she was silent, she wanted most to speak up.

Ponies were so complicated. Some more than others.

The Changeling bit her lip for a moment, but then she only nodded and turned, heading inside to the small, unused kitchen. She knew better by now than to offer Moonbeam her help: Moonbeam would just refuse her or get upset. She didn't like being helped. She didn't like leaning on other people for comfort.

She was so damn stubborn.

The Changeling smiled despite herself: she guessed that was something they shared, though, since she was still here, in spite of the way Moonbeam treated her. But there was something there, too: something that begged for contact, that wanted her to stay, even if there was... bitterness, resentment, anger, all those other not-so-nice emotions roiling around in her, too.

She entered the kitchen: it was a little less dusty now that she was actually using it, and making more than just instant meals. It was cozy for one pony, even if tight for two, but Moonbeam never seemed interested in doing much in here.

Not-Moonbeam hummed a bit as she decided to put together a bit of a treat: chocolate-covered apples. Moonbeam seemed fond of them, and they weren't very hard to make: they took just enough thought that she had to keep an eye on them, not enough that they didn't feel worthwhile for the time and effort.

She continued to hum a little tune under her breath as she worked: she didn't know why she did, or where she'd picked it up. But she never questioned it or wondered about it: some things just were. That was one of the few useful things she remembered from her days as a Changeling.

Well, she was still a Changeling, even if she was... something else, too, something not quite Changeling, not quite pony. She didn't want to erase her past, though: she wanted to learn from it, develop, and become a better pony. She wanted... oh, she didn't entirely know. She just wanted to be happy, and safe, and to help these people who had all helped her and who she had... wronged.

She looked down into the bowl of chocolate glaze she had mixed up: where had she learned to do this? Whose talents had she taken a taste of to be able to make this so perfectly? Or did perhaps Changelings have special talents, too, hidden away under the layers and layers of training and theft?

The oven dinged: the apples were baked. She removed the tray they were on with magic and set them down on the countertop, studying the half-dozen now-baked green apples. She picked one of these up with magic, then rolled it through the bowl of chocolate, careful to glaze every inch of the apple before she set it aside on a sheet of wax paper.

As she rolled a second apple, she was almost surprised into dropping it when a voice she was still unfamiliar with said: “You need a new name.”

The Changeling turned towards Moonbeam, who was looking at her moodily. She licked her lips, then said: “You can't have my name. You're not Moonbeam, you're not me. But I'm tired of calling you the Changeling, too. You need a name.”

The Changeling smiled at this despite herself, blushing a little bit: as tactless as Moonbeam was, those words meant a lot to her. “I... okay. What should-”

“I'm not naming you. I just want a name for you.” Moonbeam groused. “It's your name. You should come up with a name you like for yourself.”

“I don't... really know what I like.” the Changeling admitted after a moment, but Moonbeam only snorted at this.

“That's stupid. You like apples. Chocolate. Chocolate-covered apples, you're always making them.” Moonbeam shrugged, waving a hoof out. “What else do you like?”

The Changeling shifted awkwardly, and then she blurted out: “I like you.”

“Well you're not me and you don't get to use my damn name.” Moonbeam retorted crankily, although there was maybe a bit of surprise, maybe a hint of a blush, maybe the strangest, subtlest... sadness?

Not worth it?

The Changeling blushed and lowered her head, then she nodded awkwardly before opening her mouth. But Moonbeam only grimaced and shook her head before she grabbed one of the baked apples, then turned and quickly left.

The Changeling studied the apples left behind quietly: she did like things, didn't she? Chocolate-covered apples... but she wasn't an apple, or an Apple. What did she like? What was she like? Shouldn't her name say something about her?

How did you design yourself?

The Changeling picked up another apple, then rolled it slowly through the chocolate. She lifted it after a moment, watching the excess drip off before she set it aside. She repeated the process, then picked up the bowl and looked back and forth before she ducked her muzzle into it, licking up some of the sweet glaze left behind like a foal.

She put it down, then wrinkled up her muzzle as she felt something trickle along it, wiping automatically at it and blushing as she found chocolate all over her metal hoof.

She paused after a moment, looking closer at her steel appendages: she hadn't even considered those. But even though they were part of her, they weren't her, she had figured out. Having these didn't decide her fate for her, or mean she could never be anything but some kind of weapon or experiment. She was still her, whoever she was.

The Changeling walked out of the kitchen and headed to the little, cramped bathroom, where she smiled despite herself at the sight of herself in the mirror: face covered in chocolate. Well... maybe that wasn't such a bad color on her, she thought.

She washed her face off, then shook her head before she turned and headed back out to the main shop area. She was surprised to see Moonbeam was out here, grumbling around, cleaning things and moving glass sheets around haphazardly: but even when she seemed to throw things, she always seemed to know just how hard and how far she could toss something before it broke. She had a second sense when it came to the delicate materials she worked with, one that had obviously been honed over many years of practice.

The Changeling hurried towards her, but Moonbeam huffed at her and almost thrust several pieces of glass between them, then she grimaced as her magic aura fizzled. The Changeling caught the glass pieces before they could fall, gently setting them aside, and Moonbeam muttered: “Don't scrape them together.”

“You should get some rest.” the Changeling said, but Moonbeam only grumbled and half-shoved herself away, heading over to a display.

The Changeling followed quickly after her, but Moonbeam only asked grouchily: “Have you come up with a name yet?”

The Changeling blushed, her eyes shifting automatically around the room before they locked on an open book of color palettes, and she blurted out: “Marina!”

“Marina?” Moonbeam frowned and turned around, then she looked over at the open album and snorted. She walked over to this, looking moodily at the color chart before she muttered: “Fine. It works for now. But you're the wrong color.”

“I thought a Marina was a dock.” the Changeling said before she could stop herself, and Moonbeam cracked a rare smile for a moment in spite of herself.

“You want to be a dock? You want ships in you and sailors all over you?” asked Moonbeam, and the Changeling turned beet red and shook her head hurriedly.

“No, no, that's not what I meant! Nevermind, I'll-”

“No, Marina works. I think it works just fine.” Moonbeam retorted, and the Changeling lowered her head and gave a small smile despite herself, her eyes shifting almost shyly to the side as Moonbeam frowned. “What?”

“Okay. I'm glad it makes you happy.” The Changeling, now Marina, said quietly, before she rose her head a little and added: “It's almost like you named me anyway.”

Moonbeam rolled her eyes, then she turned away with a grumble, muttering: “Just make sure you find another face to wear, too. No point in you having a different name if I'm going to just keep looking at myself all the time anyway.”

Marina nodded, then smiled as Moonbeam walked away, but maybe snuck the slightest glance back at her.

Maybe, just maybe, there was hope for the two of them after all.