Blood Chit didn’t approve of the guard. At least, not at first.

He learned later though that he’d actually misinterpreted the reason for the armed Timberwolf’s Dragoons security pony standing outside the door to the medical ward aboard the Princess-Class DropShip, Wyrm, which served as the command ship for the mercenary company while they were away from their main base of operations on Magnus Station. He’d erroneously believed that their principle duty was to keep the recovering Slipshod in. However, he came to learn much later that the guard had actually been there to keep all but a select few out.

At least, until such time as Twilight Sparkle could do a magical sweep of the Dragoon forces and ferret out any changelings among them.

A grand total of six had been found. However, only five had been apprehended. The last had apparently succeeded where Doc Dee had been stymied by Slipshod, managing to overload and detonate the reactor of the DropShip that they were aboard, taking all hooves with them. A full company of BattleSteeds and their support units had been lost. The better part of two hundred lives in all.

Timberjack hadn’t taken the loss very well. Though, not quite for the reason that Blood Chit would have assumed. While the earth pony leading the mercenary unit was indeed upset at the loss of life, the true source of his frustrations was that he and his command staff had only been able to identify four of those changelings prior to Twilight’s screening.

Though the organization was effectively a ‘false flag’ group sent to the Harmony Sphere by the League-in-Exile to covertly support the Disciples of Discord and funnel intelligence on Chrysalis back to Clan space, not every mercenary serving in the Dragoon was a Clanner. The initial group had been, of course, but those leading the expedition had long understood that, if they were going to play the part of mercenaries, that meant that they were going to have to occasionally hire on new pilots as they took inevitable losses or sought to grow their company. That meant that they would risk hiring changelings.

This, too, was seen as inevitable, and actually a necessary step in maintaining their cover story. After all, everypony in the Harmony Sphere ‘knew’ that the best BattleSteed academies were on Equus―and there was some genuine merit to this too―and it would be rather odd for a premier mercenary company to inexplicably never hire otherwise very desirable pilots who had been trained at some of the best schools in the galaxy, always passing them over for objectively ‘inferior’ pilots that had received training at lesser academies. This would place them under scrutiny from the changelings, who would wonder why the Dragoons were the only large mercenary group in the Sphere who never hired pilots trained on Equus...and why they might have cause not to do so.

So, the Dragoons had elected to perform a few ‘token hires’ of pilots that were known to be changelings.

This was seen as a necessary―but largely very minor―security risk, as none of the other rank-and-file ‘Steed pilots that were taken on while the Dragoons were in the Sphere were going to be let in on the ‘big secret’ about the origin of the unit and their true mission anyway. It hardly took any ‘extra’ work to not tell the changelings anything they wouldn’t be telling the other native-born ponies anyway.

Besides, in theory, it was very simple to identify changelings if one knew what to look for, since the most obvious identifier was actually something that was not only public knowledge, but was actively bragged about by the changeling infiltrators in question: attendance of a school on Equus. For it was only the Clans who knew that the world which was the ancient origin of the races of the Harmony Sphere was now effectively a giant changeling hive.

No smelly zebra goop or alicorn magic needed! If a prospective member of the company listed Equus anywhere in their resume: changeling.

Interestingly, Twilight’s magical vetting had inadvertently identified three other pilots who had apparently lied about where they’d received their training, as they had turned out to be genuine ponies, despite insisting during their hiring interviews that they’d been to Equus academies. As far as Blood Chit had heard, there was still some ongoing debate among the lance commanders about how those pilots should be disciplined; if at all.

The news of the existence of changelings had created a rather noticeable divide among the members of the Dragoons though. The original Clan-born crew complement was completely unsurprised, as they’d been well aware of the ‘traitors’ hiding in their midsts. Meanwhile, the Harmony Sphere natives were understandably anxious, and even a little paranoid in spite of Twilight’s insistence that there could be no other changelings in their ranks. After all, those same Sphere-borns were also having to reconcile the obvious impossibility that an alicorn who could only be ‘Queen Twilight Sparkle’ was walking among them and rooting out fantastical bug-monsters that could look like anything.

Blood Chit wasn’t sure whether the Dragoons currently traveled with any therapists on their ships, but he suspected that the inclusion of such specialists would be raised as a topic for discussion during the next command staff meeting.

The crimson pegasus knew that he was still coming to terms with some things as a result of the unexpected information dump. And he’d found out weeks ago!

Which wasn’t to say that he’d really dealt with the news in all that time. Truth be told, he’d actually been avoiding Slipshod since they’d left Clan space. He tried to tell himself that it wasn’t because he was afraid of the ‘Steed pilot for being a changeling, or because he ‘hated’ them for lying about what they were. Slipshod would hardly have been the only pony he’d ever met who’d lied about their past, after all. The recovery team leader had more than a few ex-coltfriends who’d done plenty of lying to him, in fact! Hiding who you were was nothing special, or specific to changelings.

...Which might have been what hurt the most, if he was being honest. Slipshod had turned out to be just another lying stallion. Maybe not one that he’d been involved with romantically, this time; but certainly one which the pegasus had been emotionally invested in. That realization had triggered some very familiar feelings in the recovery pony, and led to some subsequent familiar reactions: pushing them away, and keeping himself distant. Protecting himself from further pain.

Then, over time, as he’d started to process and work through what he felt―like had always happened after a break-up―Blood Chit had started to recognize that there was one significant difference between Slipshod’s lying and that of his exes: where past coltfriends had lied in order to take advantage of him, Slipshod had been lying to protect himself. There’d been no malicious intent behind it.

While that epiphany might have assuaged Blood Chit’s anger towards the earth pony, it also served to inspire new feelings of guilt within him for not recognizing the distinction earlier. He now realized that he’d pushed a pony away when they’d been at their most vulnerable, and most in need of the support of the ponies that were important to them.

He’d abandoned a ‘Steed pilot who was in trouble.

Some ‘recovery pony’ he was, the pegasus thought to himself bitterly. Failing at both his job, and as a friend.

It wasn’t like Slipshod had ever been anything but kind and supportive since they’d met. So few ponies on the ship seemed to know how to connect with the pegasus on such a personal level. If Slipshod and Squelch hadn’t already been married when he’d come aboard―and if he wasn’t already very happily attached as well, he reminded himself―Blood Chit didn’t doubt that he’d have been spending a lot of nights bunking in the ‘Steed pilot’s cabin…

Which was why the crimson stallion was currently perched outside the Wyrm’s medical bay: he was determined to be the supportive friend that always should have been.

If he even ever got that chance…

The door to the DropShip’s infirmary opened. Blood Chit sat up rigid on his haunches, his neck straining as he sought futilely to catch any sight of his friend. However, the layout of the clinic precluded the pegasus from seeing anything but the waiting room. A Princess-class DropShip was a far sight larger than a dinky little Mustang like the Zathura, with an operating crew north of five hundred needed to properly support the full battalion of BattleSteeds and support fighters that it carried. Which meant that their treatment facilities were also quite a bit more robust than the pair of beds and cozy doctor’s office that his own ship possessed. The Wyrm had what amounted to a genuine urgent care facility with a couple dozen beds and an actual staff of medical ponies.

One of those staff, and the earth pony that they were speaking with, were blocking most of the pegasus’ view at the moment―the majority of the blocking being perpetrated by the very large earth pony. The guard beside the door straightened up slightly at the emergence of the pair, though it didn’t look like either were intent on paying them any attention. Even Blood Chit went largely unnoticed as they finished up whatever conversation they were having.

The pegasus only caught the tail end of it, “―maybe weeks, I honestly don’t know,” the khaki unicorn mare wearing a white physician’s coat was saying, shaking her head, “I just... I don’t have experience with changelings, TJ; you know that. He’s alive, and his vitals are stable, that’s all I can say for certain. Whether his vitals are good, I genuinely have no idea. For all I know, they’re unsustainable and he’s compensating; which means that, at any moment, he could crash and die on us,” the medical pony shrugged helplessly, apparently just as unsatisfied with her answer as the pony he was talking to was.

“I understand, Vie,” Timberjack responded, sighing heavily, “and I know you’re trying your best. I’m doing what I can to get you our files on changeling physiology from back home,” he was frowning now, apparently knowing that the doctor wasn’t going to appreciate what he had to say next, “but...it’ll take some time. A couple months, at least.”

The medical mare looked disgusted by the news, “I can’t keep him alive that long without knowing what I’m doing!” she protested, “he was mostly dead when that alicorn teleported him into my med bay; and his vitals haven’t changed all that much since then!

“TJ, he’s lost a lot of blood, and I don’t have a lot of this,” the unicorn’s magic wagged a vial of green ooze in front of the earth pony, “in the blood bank!”

“Then take some from the prisoners we rounded up the other day,” the earth pony responded, as though the solution were so obvious that he was annoyed that he even had to make the suggestion to the mare.

The doctor looked utterly offended by the implication, “even putting aside all of the moral objections to harvesting prisoners for medical treatment, I don’t even know if changelings have their own version of blood types and RH factors,” she protested, “a transfusion from the wrong changeling could kill him faster than no transfusion at all!”

Timberjack massaged his brow, clearly trying not to let his frustration get the best of him and say something that would upset the mare, “then don’t give him any blood,” he responded through gritted teeth, “I don’t know what you’re expecting from me, Vie,” he said, sounding exasperated, “I told you: I’m doing what I can to help you, but there’s only so much I can do. What more do you want from me?”

“I just want you to let the princess know that when that changeling dies, it wasn’t because I didn’t do my best,” the tan-coated unicorn said.

“Nopony thinks you’re half-flanking this,” the earth pony stallion assured her, “we all know you’re doing your best under difficult circumstances―”

“When he dies?” Blood Chit reflexively bit his lip when he realized that he’d just spoken his concern aloud. He hadn’t meant to interrupt their conversation, but the word choice that the ship’s physician had used had been very difficult to ignore.

Not that it wasn’t something he hadn’t expected to hear, the pegasus mentally acknowledged. Frankly speaking, he had been surprised that Slipshod had held on as long as he had, given the state he was in after the fight in the Zathura’s ‘Steed Bay. Both he and the medic who’d eventually shown up had done what they could to bind the changeling’s wounds, but it hadn’t been easy. Try as they might, they hadn’t been able to identify any major arteries to pinch off to stem the flow of the green blood. It had just seemed to come from everywhere. They’d settled for sealing the openings in the carapass as best they could, but it had felt like a futile effort.

Twilight had appeared shortly after, alerted to the fight by one of the ship’s security ponies. Apparently, she’d only been informed of what had happened to Squelch when Victoria asked to be patched through to her quarters. The alicorn hadn’t said a word to either him or the medic. She and Slipshod had simply vanished in a flash of violet light, leaving behind only the pool of mixed red and green blood.

He’d since then only heard that the ‘Steed pilot was being treated aboard the Dragoon command ship. Nothing specific on Slipshod’s condition. Nor had it been easy to get any additional information over the next couple of days. The whole of the Dragoon fleet had been placed under a communication’s blackout while Twilight went from ship to ship, sweeping them for changelings. The blackout had been designed to ensure that any changelings aboard a ship that she was checking couldn’t warn their comrades on other ships and motivate them to do something rash.

Like blowing the reactor core.

Obviously, that precaution had only met with limited success.

Now that every ship had been screened, and every changeling agent apprehended, both comms traffic and personnel traffic could resume. Within their little fleet, at least. This did mean, at least, that Blood Chit had received permission to travel to the Wyrm. Officially, he was there to act as a liaison between the Timberwolf’s Dragoons and the Rayleigh’s Irregulars, allowing for the smaller mercenary unit to receive independent updates on their pilot’s condition. Unofficially, he wanted to be with his friend; and to have the chance to apologize for letting him down.

...While he still had the chance.

Both of the Dragoons turned to look at the crimson pegasus in the corridor, only now seeming to realize that there had been anypony else of note around to overhear their conversation. The sandy physician looked slightly abashed about having let details regarding a patient’s condition slip amidst prying ears. Timberjack, on the other hoof, didn’t appear to appreciate being interrupted by a mere visitor on his ship. Especially one who was likely only here because Twilight had twisted his hoof into allowing for an ‘interloper’ to loiter outside his med bay.

The pair exchanged looks, and then Timberjack said, “just do what you can,” he instructed her, “let me worry about the fallout,” and with only a brief acknowledging glance in Blood Chit’s direction, the gruff earth pony left down the hall, turning out of sight.

Silence hung outside the medical ward now. Even the guard shifted uncomfortably after a few seconds. Finally, the doctor sighed and waved at the pegasus, “come inside,” Blood Chit followed solemnly behind the medical mare. Once inside the clinic, his eyes immediately started scanning around for any sign of Slipshod, but it was quickly apparent that this was all a simple reception area, with no treatment beds at all. He spotted some empty beds through a nearby open door though.

His view was abruptly blocked by a stern-faced doctor. The pegasus backpedaled a couple steps and swallowed. The mare stared him down for another few seconds before seeming to satisfy herself that Blood Chit was paying attention to what she had to say. She then nodded in the direction of a chair that was sat across from a desk with a placard on it that read: “Dr. Vie Scope, MD”

“Sit. We’ll talk about your friend.”

The stallion sat down stiffly, not particularly finding the resigned tone that she’d used all that reassuring. The medical mare also took up her own seat behind the desk. She then levitated over a data tablet and started scrolling through information. Blood Chit waited patiently for her to begin. Fortunately for his nerves, he didn’t have to wait long.

“The short answer to your question is that he’s not getting better,” the unicorn began, speaking candidly. She turned the pad around so that the pegasus could see the information, which consisted of a lot of line graphs that didn’t really mean all that much to him. The lines were all fairly straight, which seemed like it was a good thing; but they were also very low to the bottom of the horizontal axis, which probably wasn’t a good thing. He knew from his own charts which Doc Dee had shown him, that doctors liked seeing lines in the middle on most things.

“And,” she continued, retracting the tablet, “if patients aren’t getting better, that’s usually an indicator that it’s only a matter of time before they get worse,” the expression she wore now was appropriately sympathetic, as she was well aware that she was delivering bad news.

“I’m a doctor, not an entomologist,” she said with an anemic shrug, “and the fact is that your friend has more in common with a cockroach than a pony. I can provide his body with nutrients...and that’s about it,” her hoof twirled dismissively as a mirthless smile creased her lips, “until I can get my hooves on a copy of Bay’s Anatomy for Bug Ponies, I’m at a loss as to what to do.

“I’m terrified to try anything more than giving him saline, because I don’t know what will kill him and what won’t.”

“I thought that High Gain sent over all of Slip’s medical fills from the Zathura?” Blood Chit asked, “wouldn’t all of his allergies or whatever be in there?”

The mare nodded her head, but her demeanor was still that of one resigned to impotency, “and those medical files were exactly what I would expect to see for a typical earth pony ‘Steed pilot. I’ve got a dozen files that are dead ringers for his in my own records,” her hoof tapped the tablet again, “which is the problem, because none of that data lines up with what I’m seeing now.”

She spun it around again and started scrolling through profiles of other ponies too fast for Blood Chit to see much more than their faces, “and it’s the same story for all the other changelings we have in custody. Even though I knew, from day one, that most of them weren’t real ponies, I’ll be damned if I could find any sign that they weren’t! But now that they’re all bugged-out, their vitals don’t match up with ponies at all.

“Which leads me to believe that, however their transformation is done, it’s not just cosmetic. They really do become whatever they turn into.

“That other changeling that was killed on your ship? The one that died as a wyvern?” the doctor brought up another file and pushed the pad towards Blood Chit. Again, the pegasus was at a loss to interpret most of the data, but it seemed that the mare was willing to explain the revelation to him anyway, “is a wyvern! Anatomy, blood chemistry, DNA―one hundred percent wyvern.

“Now, I can’t treat a wyvern,” she continued, “nor, can I treat a changeling. I just know how to treat ponies,” after a brief pause, she belatedly added, “and hippogriffs, griffons, and a few other races―but definitely not changelings.”

Realization began to dawn on the pegasus stallion, “...so, if Slip turned back into an earth pony―”

“I’d have him up and out of here in a week,” the unicorn finished with a dismissive flip of her hoof, “resection his bowels, grow him a new liver, top him off with some O-neg blood, and buck him out the door. His injuries would barely be worth my time. I’d probably even pass him off on that lazy PA of mine...”

“So how do we turn him into an earth pony again?” Blood Chit tried not to sound as hopeful as he was feeling, he really did; but he failed miserably. Hearing that his friend’s salvation was so easily attainable―

“No idea!” the mare threw up her hooves in abject surrender. To her credit, she didn’t take even the slightest bit of delight in seeing the stallions restricken face, “easiest way would obviously be to get him to do it himself,” she pointed out, “but seeing as how he’s got three hooves in the grave as it is, and I’m afraid to breathe on him too hard in case that gets the fourth hoof to join them…” another helpless shrug, “waking him up so he can try to shift isn’t an option I’m willing to take.

“Even if I do manage to wake him up without killing him, I genuinely don’t think he’d have the energy to transform anyway. Most unicorns wouldn’t even be able to levitate in his condition, let alone perform more complex magicks.”

“Then what about Twilight?” the stallion suggested, “if she can undo their transformations, then maybe she can redo them? Have you―”

Vie was already shaking her head, “asked and answered,” she informed the pegasus, “and before you ask ‘why’ she can’t, I’ll spare you the dissertation on unicorn magic and leave it at: while dispelling enchantments isn’t necessarily easier than casting them in the first place, it can be a fundamentally different process. Being able to do the latter doesn’t mean you can do the former.”

Upon seeing that Blood Chit was obviously dubious regarding her claims, the unicorn rolled her eyes and sighed, scratching her chin as she scrounge up an explanation that the pegasus would accept, “...it’s like demolishing a building,” she finally began, earning a bemused look from the stallion, “no, really, hear me out: there’s a lot of ways you can take a building down. You could do it piece-by-piece, right? Almost like reversing the order you built it in? That would be how a pony who knows how the original enchantment was done in the first place would do things: unravel the spell all neat and orderly-like.

“Or, if you can’t be bothered to learn every facet of how to deconstruct a building with all the trimmings, and you just need it gone now; you can implode it with properly placed explosive charges. Doing that gets that building down in no time flat. But that doesn’t mean the demo team is going to know the first thing about how to use those explosives to build something, does it?”

Blood Chit deflated, “so Twilight only knows how to undo changeling magic, not copy it?”

Vie nodded, “she said she put transmutation magic on the backburner after a friend of hers caught her turning apples in oranges and made her promise to stop. No idea what any of that meant,” the physician threw up her hooves in a helpless gesture upon fielding the stallion’s confused frown. Then the mare frowned, “then she asked to borrow my copy of Hinney’s Principles of Arcane Medicine and left. I mean, it’s only going to tell her how to treat ponies and donkeys, so I don’t know how much help it’s going to be...”

“What about the other changelings?”

Vie drew up short over her musings regarding the leant out medical text and looked over at the pegasus, “what about them? Look, I already told TJ: I’m not going to experiment on sentient creatures, even if they are chang―”

“No, not that! It’s just, they obviously know how changelings...change,” Blood Chit pushed past the brief falter as he recognized his lackluster word choice, “maybe they can teach you or Twilight or some other unicorn how to do it?”

“Ha!” the stallion didn’t appreciate how derisive the laugh from the khaki unicorn sounded, “if you can get one of them to actually help us, I’ll eat my stethoscope!

“Buddy, half of them tried to blow up the DropShips they were on―one even succeeded!” she spat out bitterly. Loath to abuse the prisoners the mare might be, but that obvious didn’t mean that she thought at all fondly of them, Blood Chit recognized, “whatever you’d need to promise them for their help―if they’re even willing to give it!―TJ won’t agree to it. I guarantee it.”

“Maybe they’ll be willing to help one of their own kind?” he offered, hopefully.

“Isn’t your pilot supposed to be some sort of traitor or something?”

“They might not know that! I can tell them that one of their other operatives in the Dragoons was hurt when we caught him, and we need them to change him into a pony so we can treat him,” the suggestion didn’t sound all that implausible to the stallion’s own ears, at least, despite how unconvinced the doctor still looked, “worst case scenario, they say ‘no’ and we’re still no worse off than we are right now,” he pointed out.

That much the unicorn conceded, “alright,” she relented, “I’ll call TJ. Get you a meeting. I still think you’re wasting your time; but it’s your time to waste, so…”

Within the hour, the crimson pegasus stallion was being escorted down to the DropShip’s brig. It wasn’t a very large section of the ship, which he supposed made some sense. Mercenary DropShips weren’t typically enlisted to conduct prisoner transports. At most, they were used to keep particularly unruly members of the crew segregated, or for transport of high-profile targets that might have been captured during a mission. If more accommodations were necessary for the transport of a large number of captives, then a dedicated prison transport could be acquired for the purpose.

The Wyrm had exactly six small cells. Five of which were occupied, as Timberjack had decided that he preferred all of their changeling captives to be kept in a singular area for better accountability. Two uniformed ponies stood guard over the detention area at all times. The third security pony who had led Blood Chit down here remained as well, with instructions to make sure that the Irregulars member made it back without managing to get himself swapped with one of the changelings somehow.

What surprised the stallion a bit was the fact that all five of the captives appeared to be lounging in their changeling forms. None of them seemed interested in retaining their old identities. This was the second time that Blood Chit had ever seen changelings before. The first had been a few days ago, when Slipshod had reverted from being a slingtail. These specific individuals looked understandably far more healthy and intact though.

One of them perked up at the sound of his approach, glancing out of the door with their solid amethyst eyes from where they were lounging on the cot in their cell. An amused little smirk manifested across its mouth as it announced to its comrades, “heads up; we got another looky-loo!” chittering sounds started coming from the other cells, like a collection of agitated hornets were gathering, “let me guess: you’re ‘nice cop’?”

Then, without warning, and before Blood Chit could even react, the changeling flung itself at him! For a brief moment, the pegasus entirely forgot about the locked door and the steel bars that caged the changeling and recoiled back. His hooves tipped over themselves in his panicked efforts to get away and he ended up falling to the deck against one of the other cells. A loud ‘hiss’ from right beside his ears hat the stallion scrambling a second time. The commotion drew the attention of the nearby guards, but when all that they saw was their mercenary visitor falling over themselves without being in any obvious danger, they started to snicker amongst themselves, prompting Blood Chit’s cheeks to flush.

The changeling who’d spoken licked at the air with a tongue that looked entirely too long for the pegasus stallion’s liking, their eyes half-lidded in a clear indication of pleasure as they chittered contentedly. Slowly, they withdrew from the bars and returned to reclining on their bunk, “hmm...it’s been a while since I got to taste real fear up close like that…” they purred.

The crimson stallion cleared his throat and smoothed out his plumage, still mentally fuming from how easily he’d been spooked by the caged changelings, “I thought you guys were supposed to go after love,” he muttered.

“We survive on love,” the changeling corrected pointedly, “but that doesn’t mean that we don’t appreciate other emotions as well. Personally, I find terror to be particularly delectable.

“I know an earth pony mare who eats peppers hot enough to power a BattleSteed,” they added, “it’s kind of like that.”

“So you’re saying that you’re going to take a really uncomfortable shit later today?” Blood Chit shot back.

“That actually wasn’t a half bad comeback, Vespa,” another changeling chuckled from their cell, “this one could be some fun after all.”

The amethyst-eyed changeling nodded their head from one side to the other, as though considering the remark, “maybe,” they conceded, “let’s see...” their eyes now focused squarely on the pegasus as they massaged their chin with one of their pockmarked legs.

“...well, he’s definitely not a Clanner,” they remarked matter-of-factly, “not arrogant enough,” Blood Chit wasn’t certain if that was a compliment or not, “not a Dragoon either,” the changeling continued, “not enough self-confidence, “ okay, that one felt like an insult.

“Not cocky enough to be a ‘Steed pilot. He doesn’t stand like he owns the Sphere,” that observation actually provoked Blood Chit to straighten up a little, now that he was aware that his haunches had been slouching a little. This reaction evoked a fanged grin from the changeling and a scowl from the pegasus as he realized how easily he was being manipulated by their comments. Besides, it wasn’t like ‘Steed pilots were all that bad―

“But he likes ‘Steed pilots,” the changeling noted, almost like they were reacting to his thoughts, taking the stallion aback, “so he either doesn’t work with them at all, or works with them really closely,” the changeling was rubbing their hooves together, licking their lips as they started to really get into the little game that they were playing with the pegasus.

“Can’t be a merc and not be around pilots, so close it is,” they reasoned, “which means technician―nope…” Blood Chit felt a chill in his gut as he continued to watch the changeling dissect his thoughts in real time. He was finding the experience quite unsettling. The changeling smacked their lips and flashed another toothy smile his way, “Delicious…”

“Recovery team,” a different changeling deduced from down the corridor, “salvage tech would smell greasier.”

“Ding, ding, ding,” the violet-eyed changeling concluded with a soft clap of their hooves, “nail on the head there, Apis. We have ourselves a member of a recovery team. Probably from the pissant little merc outfit that brought that Commonwealth pretender back home.

“Now what brings a sweet little pony like yourself down here to see our lowly selves?” they asked in a sardonically sweet tone. After several moments of silence during which Blood Chit didn’t offer an answer, the changeling added, “no, really; I’m asking. We’re empaths, not mind-readers. Why are you here?”

Blood Chit grimaced, trying not to let how annoyed he was at how easily they’d inferred so much about him show on his face. He'd ‘known’ that changelings could feed off of emotion, and that this predictably meant that they could also sense emotions as well. However, he’d apparently not really been able to properly prepare himself for what that truly meant insofar as not being able to keep how he was feeling a secret from them. ‘Tough buck’ acts clearly weren’t going to work on changelings, so there was no point in trying to pretend like he had any more pull than he really did.

That didn’t mean that obfuscation was completely off the table though, he reasoned. Like the changeling had said: they weren’t mind readers. As long as he wasn’t trying to mask his feelings, they shouldn’t be able to figure out that he was keeping anything from them. He should still be able to accomplish what he’d come down here to do, “a friend of yours is dying in the ship’s med bay,” the pegasus began, “the doctor doesn’t know how to treat him. Not while he’s a changeling. If one of you can help turn him into a pony, we can save his life.”

The changeling with the violet eyes maintained their amused smirk, though their gaze did narrow noticeably, “nope, I was wrong: you’re obviously the dumb cop,” this prompted a few snickers from the other cells. Now they directed a bored expression right back at Blood Chit, “only an idiot lies to a changeling.”

“I’m not lying,” the stallion insisted, “there is a changeling in the med bay dying! You can help save him―”

“The lie was that he’s not ‘our’ friend,” the changeling interrupted, now sounding a little annoyed at having to make the correction, “he’s yours. Which makes you double-dumb for still feeling attached even when you know what he is,” now their smile was predatory, “no wonder you ponies are so easy to manipulate. Even when confronted with an obvious enemy, you’ll delude yourself into believing that they still care about you because of the ‘special bond’ that the two of you share that’s totally different from the exact same fake ‘bond’ that changelings share with every other creature in the Sphere.”

As they continued to speak, their sneer had grown more and more contemptuous, their eyes burrowing harder into the pegasus, “it’d be hilarious, if it wasn’t just so pathetically sad,” they spat.

Blood Chit hated that the comments that the other changeling was making had prompted him to again question whether Slipshod actually did care about him or any other members of the Zathura’s crew. Sure, on the surface, it could be argued that he’d only stopped the other changeling in order to keep himself from being killed in the sabotage attempt. However, that didn’t explain why Slipshod had taken his attention off the fight long enough to save Blood Chit’s own life from the falling ammo jack. It had nearly gotten the ‘Steed pilot killed.

Somepony who was just ‘pretending’ to care about others didn’t risk getting themselves killed to protect them. This changeling either didn’t know what they were talking about, or was just trying to fuck with him some more. The stallion staunchly pushed their comments from his thoughts as a result, “they’re still a changeling,” he pointed out, “are you going to help one of your own kind, or not?”

“Why should we care?” another of the captive changelings piped up from further down the corridor, “do you honestly expect any of us to think we’re going to get out of this alive? Let him die. Spare him the tedium of sitting in a cell waiting to be tortured to death or getting popped out an airlock after they get what they want from us.”

“That’s not what’s going to happen to you,” the stallion insisted, and then immediately winced as he recognized his own inward uncertainty. He wanted to believe those weren’t the fates that awaited the captive changelings. However, he’d heard the rumors about what had been done to Slipshod while in the custody of the Clanners on the zebra planet. The pegasus honestly had no idea what Timberjack’s plans for these changelings were. Did the mercenary leader intend to keep them locked down here for the months―maybe even years―that it took to oust the changelings from Equus?

Assuming that they succeeded, what did that mean for the other changelings in the galaxy anyway? A species that specifically preyed on other creatures to a potentially lethal degree? Would changelings even be allowed to exist in the galaxy after it was freed?

...Would they be hunted to extinction for the good of the rest of the galaxy?

Blood Chit didn’t honestly know, and that realization didn’t sit very comfortably with him.

“...Exactly,” the violet-eyed changeling―Vespa―said in a grim tone, “even you know it will. So, aagin: what’s in it for us to help you? What’s in it for them to be helped? If you really think of them as a ‘friend’, be merciful and go slit his throat yourself.”

The mere thought of doing something like that to Slipshod horrid the pegasus. Which seemed to prompt both another amused chuckle, as well as a salivating lick of the lips, from Vespa. Blood Chit glared at the changeling, “if you believe that, then why haven’t you offed yourself yet?” he challenged.

“Because I want to live long enough to watch you morons jump into the Faust System,” they responded, completely nonplussed as they idly polished their hoof against their chest. They began laughing now, “I bet you think the WarShips are the biggest threat you have to contend with there. Ha!

“They won’t need to fire a shot,” Vespa sneered at him, “our queen has grown so powerful with all of the love she’s absorbed over the years, she’ll be able to vaporize your whole invasion force with a single spell!”

“Vespa!” another changeling hissed from their cell across the hall, “shut up, you idiot!”

The changeling clamped their mouth closed, their violet eyes widened in surprise as they too seemed to realize that they’d gotten carried away and said more than they’d intended to. Blood Chit suspected that they indeed had given away more information than they might have liked, since he found himself contemplating the wording that they’d used.

“Love makes changelings stronger?” he asked aloud, regarding the now very much abashed and cowed changeling, “it’s not just food for you?” Vespa pointedly said nothing, opting instead to simply glare at the pegasus in silence. Now it was Blood Chit’s turn to smile. He might not be able to sense emotions like a changeling, but he could tell when somepony was angry; and anything that pissed off these changelings was good news in his book, “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.

“Thank you; you’ve been a great help!” the crimson stallion grinned at the changelings, turned, and trotted towards the waiting guardponies, “can one of you take me to the bridge? I’ve got to make a call to my ship.”

As he left the brig, he heard one of the other changelings―he thought it was the one that had been identified as ‘Apis’―comment, “you better hope they toss you out an airlock, you moron. Because the queen will literally eat you alive if she finds out what you just did…”

When the call came across the terminal in her quarters, Twilight Sparkle was laying back on her bunk staring intently at the spell matrix diagrams in the text that she had borrowed from the Dragoon physician. She honestly didn’t hear the chime the first few times. When the alert finally managed to pierce through the alicorn’s intent concentration, she lowered the tome and glanced over at the terminal screen, her face creased in mild annoyance at the interruption.

It was an expression that vanished immediately when she noted the profile of an open-mouthed timberwolf’s head emblazoned across the screen, denoting who the call was coming in from. The alicorn promptly vaulted out of her bed, the medical text completely forgotten as she accepted the call with feelings of mixed anxiety and trepidation. There were only a hoofful of reasons that she’d be getting a comm from anypony in the Dragoons, and few of those reasons were likely to be in order to pass on good news.

The fact that it was the face of the leaders of the Rayleigh’s Irregular’s Recovery Team―and acting head of the company’s entire security division―that appeared did little to assuage the tension. Blood Chit would only be calling her to pass on news of Slipshod’s condition.

Last the alicorn knew, the prognosis had been trending in one specific direction…

“Yes, Blood Chit?” Twilight said, swallowing against the sudden dryness in her throat.

The haggard looking pegasus barely even let the mare get out her greeting before he blurted out, “Love!”

The purple mare blinked in mild surprise as her brain fought for context, “what?”

“I talked with the changeling prisoners on the ship,” the crimson stallion explained, “they mentioned that their queen would be really powerful because of all the love she’d been gathering,” Twilight winced as she realized that this was one detail which she had been loath to consider during all of their planning conferences thus far. Mostly because there was little that could be done to counter it if it were the case. She’d seen alicorns defeated by a love-powered Chrysalis in the past; and that had just been when she’d been the recipient of the love of a single stallion.

She shuddered to consider the possibility of facing off against a changeling queen who had been stockpiling the love of billions over the centuries…

However, that didn’t mean that they still didn’t have to try.

This bitter reminder of how steep of an uphill battle the invasion would ultimately be mercifully did not seem to have been the point of the stallion’s call to her, “is it the same with regular changelings? Does love give them more power, or strength, or whatever?”

Twilight’s mind flashed with another memory from a bygone era. “Yes,” she answered easily, the barest hint of a smile tugging at her lip as she was reminded of a much happier time in her life, “any changeling drone with enough love can accomplish simply amazing things. Why do you...ask…”

Of course, the purple mare almost immediately recognized exactly why Blood Chit was asking her about the validity of that little fact about changelings, “if we can get Slipshod enough love, we can save him,” she concluded without prompting from the pegasus, who was looking through the screen at her with a hopeful expression of his own.

“I’ll go to his side right now! I’ll let you know when he improves―” the stallion blurted, obviously quite satisfied with the news that he’d just received.

However, here Twilight was going to have to put a slight damper on things, “Blood Chit,” the alicorn cautioned the pegasus, drawing him up short, “we’re talking about real love. Beyond platonic. Even more than just romantic love. To supercharge a changeling requires genuine, unadulterated, true love.

“You have a coltfriend, yes?” the stallion nodded hesitantly, “can you honestly say that you love Slipshod more than your coltfriend?”

“Well, I mean, of course I don’t, but…” the pegasus faltered, looking plaintively at the screen, “fuck, I’m not even sure I feel that strongly about my coltfriend!”

“I’m not saying that the love you feel for your friend won’t help,” Twilight conceded to the distraught stallion, “but it won’t be enough to save him,” she shared a look with the pegasus, “there may be only one pony on this ship who can,” both ponies wore grim expression now. Each was aware that the pony in question had what could be charitably described as a ‘rocky’ history with the changeling.

However, Squelch was his only hope of salvation, “go to him,” Twilight said with a sigh as she contemplated the conversation that she was about to have with the unicorn, “I’ll go talk with her.”

“Okay,” the alicorn hated herself for eroding the recovery pony’s prior enthusiasm like that, but she wouldn’t have felt right sending him Slipshod filled with false hope that might ultimately not pan out, “I’ll see you in a bit,” the screen went dark before Twilight could caution the pegasus on feeling even that optimistic.

“I sure hope so,” the purple mare sighed.

Five minutes and a quick call up to the bridge to confirm Squelch’s whereabouts later, Twilight Sparkle was standing outside of the sage green unicorn’s quarters. She depressed the call button and waited patiently to be acknowledged, “yes?”

“It’s Twilight. Can we talk? It’s important.”

A moment later, the door slid open to admit the alicorn. She stepped inside and gave the cabin a cursory scan. The interior certain gave the appearance of a pony who had been kept rather busy the past few days. The desk was cluttered, the trash can was overflowing, and the bed looked untouched. At some point in the recent past, one of the galley’s coffee machines had been migrated into Squelch’s cabin. Likely because it was less hassle than bringing the unicorn a fresh mug every hour of the day.

The sage unicorn barely even looked up from her terminal long enough to acknowledge her guest, offering little more than a grunt as she continued to furious tap away at her console, “what do you need?”

“It’s about Slipshod.”

There was the briefest of pauses, but the mare continued to work, not looking away from the display, “is he dead?” the words were uttered so flatly, that it was hard to determine how she might have processed the news if Twilight had come here to tell the mare that he had died.

“Do you still love him?”

Squelch stopped working. She cast a cold look in the alicorn’s direction, “what?”

“Do you still love Slipshod? It’s important,” Twilight insisted.

“Not to you it’s not,” the unicorn turned away once more and resumed tapping at her console, “it’s that’s all you wanted to talk about, get the fuck out of here.”

“You’re right: it’s not important to me,” Twilight conceded, not moving from where she stood, “but it’s a matter of life and death for Slipshod.

“Do. You. Love. Him?”

Squelch suddenly slammed her hooves on her desk and reeled on the alicorn, glaring balefully, “what does it matter how I feel about him?!”

The purple alicorn remained stoic in the face of the obvious irate mare, “because if you do, you could save his life.

“If you don’t, he’ll almost certainly die.”

The unicorn recoiled, looking almost disgusted with the other mare. “What kind of fucking mind game are you trying to play at?”

“No games,” Twilight said, shaking her head, “just facts. Love can do more than keep a changeling alive. True love can make them genuinely powerful. With enough of it, Slipshod could even become powerful enough to mop the deck with me with one hoof tied behind his back,” she admitted, allowing a mirthless little smile to peak through her otherwise serious demeanor.

“Exposure to real love right now could help Slipshod recover,” the alicorn continued, “but it has to be real love. What Xanadu feels for him, or Channel Lock, Blood Chit, Rigger Brush―any of the others who just think of him as a ‘good friend’? That won’t do it.

“You once loved him enough to marry him,” she reminded the unicorn, prompting a bitter grimace and an averted gaze from the sage mare―which wasn’t exactly a reassuring sign, Twilight thought, “do you still love him now? Did you really ever?”

Wordlessly, the unicorn turned away. Her horn started glowing, a matching aura manifesting on a locker door near her bunk. It opened and a bottle of Wild Pegasus floated out. It was uncapped by the time it reached Squelch’s lips, and she was taking in several long gulps as she made her way to a far corner of her cabin. While spacious by the standards of a typical spacecraft where space was at a premium, this didn’t equate to all that much of a great distance between the two mares. Once as far away from the alicorn as she could get, the ship’s captain and owner slumped down against the bulkhead and let the―now noticeably emptier―bottle come away. She let out a haggard grunt as the liquor burned its way down her throat.

“What does ‘love’ even mean?” she growled bitterly, her eyes remaining locked on the bottle floating in front of her.

“I barely believed in the idea when I first met him. My parents…” the unicorn’s expression soured even further, “well, I’m pretty sure there was no ‘love’ there,” she quipped and took another―though much more abbreviated―sip of whiskey.

“Then into my life comes this cocky, arrogant, Celestia’s gift to ponykind, alicorn-among-ponies, stallion―you know, your average ‘Steed pilot,” she chortled, the barest hint of a smile fighting valiantly to make itself visible and very nearly succeeding, “and for the first time in my life, I felt like somepony really understood me! He knew what to say, when to say it, he even knew when not to say anything at all and just listen!

“I’d never felt so comfortable―so connected―with another pony before, in my life!” the unicorn lamented, “and the sex...oh, Celestia, the sex!” At this point, Twilight started to feel a little discomfort with the conversation. Mostly at having her mentor’s name being associated with carnal pleasure, “it was like he was inside my head, knowing exactly what to do…”

“Because he was,” the sudden tone shift in the mare as she switched from wistfully nostalgic to bitterly accusatory was jarring for the alicorn, “that son-of-a-mule was reading my emotions in order to use me! Not even as a meal ticket―fuck, I could have been content with a stallion who just wanted me for my money, as long as the sex was that good!―but, no; he used me as a literal meal!

“Do you have any idea how much that whole thing fucked me up?!” the unicorn seethed, “happily-married me coming back to our cabin to find him buried balls deep in another mare? Spending a year hating him for being a lecherous bastard. Deriding him like some bitter witch of an ex every time I saw an opening to level an insult. Believing that the only reason he even continued to hang around―parading every dockside whore in the galaxy past my cabin on his way to fuck them stupid―was just so he could go on rubbing it in my face how ‘I wasn’t good enough’ to keep him faithful!

“Only to find out―after a year of teaching myself to hate him―that the whole reason he cheated, was to save my life!” the nearly-empty bottle of whiskey went flying across the cabin, and would have shattered against the wall next to Twilight, had the alicorn not been quick with her own telekinesis and saved the liquor from its untimely fate. This move earned the alicorn a brief glare from the green mare on the floor, but Twilight had been soaked by enough drinks from other ponies for the week, and was determined to remain dry for this encounter. So she merely resealed the bottle and floated it to Squelch’s desk as the unicorn resumed her tirade.

“Even more fucked up: was that that had to be the most ludicrous excuse for cheating on your spouse that has ever been concocted by a pony caught in the act, in the history of ponykind...and I bought it! I believed that bastard! Worse? He was one hundred percent right! I saw the medical reports―I even had both Victoria’s and Timberjack’s own doctors confirm the results for the tests Dee did.

“Their diagnosis? I was well on my way to suffering permanent, serious, neurological damage. As in: rest of my life in a vegetative state, damage! Another two or three months―at the most―with my rate of decline...”

Squelch was holding her head in her hooves now, “the love of my life broke my heart...in order to save me.

“Do I love him?” the unicorn raised her head again, her expression almost manic in appearance, “lady, right now I’m torn between wanting to give that stallion the rut of his life, and strangling him to death with my bare hooves―all in the same instant!” Twilight was significantly put off by the fact that the other mare took to pantomiming the latter act, and grateful that she hadn’t done so for the former.

“Is that love? You tell me! Because I sure as shit don’t know how I feel about that fuck anymore after the rollercoaster of emotions he’s had me on since the day we met,” she finally concluded with an exasperated wave of her hooves and a near-helpless look at the alicorn.

“Well...you certainly feel a lot of something very strongly,” Twilight remarked with a sardonic smile of her own, prompting another chortle from the unicorn, “so, if you can promise not to strangle him―or rut him,” Twilight cleared her throat immediately following the addendum, “it might be worth making a trip to the Wyrm.”

Squelch leaned her head back against the wall, taking a deep breath as she sought to calm herself back down from the state that she’d ended up working herself into. After a long moment, she tapped out a short sequence on her datalink, “High Gain?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“I’m leaving the ship for a bit. Hold my calls.”

“Leaving, ma’am?” the mare on the bridge asked, sounding a little confused, “but we’re not docked with any―”

“I’m teleporting over to the Wyrm with Twilight,” Squelch explained, “not sure when I’ll be back. Might only be fifteen minutes,” she said, looking over at the alicorn and saying away from the commlink, “if this doesn’t work, there’s no point in hanging around, right?”

“...Understood, ma’am.”

The unicorn cut the connection and stood up. She turned and headed for her cabin’s small washroom, “give me some time to freshen up,” she said, her magic already working to discard her current garments, “I’ll be out in a bit.”

The first thing that Squelch noticed aboard the Dragoon DropShip were the stunned expressions of the clinic staff. One of whom lost her telekinetic grip up a tray of equipment that he was carrying as he instinctively recoiled away from the brilliant purple flash and the pair of ponies who had manifested inside the medical ward. Fortunately for the contents of the tray, Twilight was just as quick with her magic here as she had been in Squelch’s quarters and caught everything before it could reach the floor. She carefully floated the supplies over to a nearby table.

“What in the―oh; it’s you,” a rather irate khaki unicorn mare began, bursting into the ward from the front reception area. She sighed and glared at the alicorn, taking note of the two others that Twilight had brought with her, “I thought I was clear about visitors? He’s in critical condition and I don’t want my staff having to work around lookie-loos!”

Squelch was barely paying attention to what the Dragoon doctor was saying, or how the alicorn that had brought her here was responding. Her attention was fixed on the nearby hospital bed, and the black form laying upon it.

She’d seen critically injured creatures before. A pony couldn’t spend most of their adult life working around BattleSteed pilots and not have seen such things. Missiles, terraspark-range magical energy beams, and high-explosive ballistic munitions, were all exceedingly capable of making a mess of the flesh and blood pilots of the ‘Steeds they struck if too much of the ablative plating designed to protective had already been blasted away. Even Slipshod had been laid up a time or two during his career.

She’d never seen him this bad before though.

Machines whose functions that she only broadly understood were clustered around the bed, most of them either beeping or humming in some fashion as they worked to stave off death. A respirator tube had been shoved down his throat. Another, smaller, hose had been fed in through the changeling’s nose. Squelch knew that one was there to keep a steady supply of nutrients and fluids going to the patient’s stomach.

Other connections had been made to the changeling’s limbs as well, these significantly more atypical when compared to what she’d seen in medical wards before. It was clear that there’d been some difficulty in establishing intravenous access in a creature that had a semi-rigid shell instead of more pliable flesh. Nonetheless, nearly a half dozen clear plastic lines had been attached at various points along his limbs that were filled with thick green fluid being cycled through at least one other machine.

Squelch’s eyes darted to one of the more prominent displays near the bed, which was currently displaying the patient’s vital signs. The unicorn might not know exactly what ‘good’ or ‘bad’ readings looked like when compared to a medical professional, but she certainly didn’t like the look of the ‘0’ next to the detected heart rate.

“Is he alive?”

Her question drew the alicorn and the Dragoon doctor out of their discussion regarding whether Squelch counted as a ‘visitor’ or a ‘treatment’, and what the proper steps of approval would have been even if she could be classified under the latter. The tan unicorn stifled and grunt with a glance at the alicorn which suggested they would be having a much lengthier discussion about this subject at a later date, and turned her attention to Squelch, apparently resigning herself to the fact that the owner of the Irregulars was here now, and would not be leaving easily.

“As best as I can tell,” Doctor Vie Scope said with a note of exasperation, though the sage unicorn didn’t get the impression it was her and Twilight that the other mare was exasperated about―in this regard, at least, “he has a heartbeat. His lungs are exchanging oxygen. There’s even the occasional bit of neurological activity,” she gestured at a small display containing―mostly―straight lines that quivered every once in a while.

Then the doctor noted the screen that Squelch was fixed on and waved away the concern, “don’t mind that asistole, it’s a problem on our end, not his. He has a heartbeat but no pulse,” she explained. Then the doctor used her magic to shift the contents of the screen, showing a pulsing line, “his EKG shows activity. Nothing like a pony heart,” she amended, “but it’s a repeating rhythm, so it’s probably okay,” the last was said with a sour note which matched up well with the doctor’s frustrated expression.

“He hasn’t improved in the last couple of days though,” Vie went on, “and, frankly, as long as he looks like this,” she waved a hoof at the changeling on the bed, “there’s not much I can do to fix him. He’s got a hole through him big enough to stick my hoof through, and it’s made a mess of all kinds of organs that I’ve never even seen before―let alone know how to put back together.”

Squelch was nodding numbly as she processed the physician’s diagnosis, her eyes never leaving the changeling. The last time that she’d seen him like this, he’d been suspended in a cell aboard Cinder’s ship, and hadn’t looked to be in much better shape either, if she was being honest.

She didn’t like it.

Not his strange appearance so much―though that was still pretty jarring. No, what she disliked the most was that he simply looked so lifeless. The Slipshod that she had in her head―whether he looked like an earth pony or not―was always self-assured and cocky. He thought that he was funnier than he really was, and wasn’t shy about making himself the center of attention. He was vibrant.

The thing lying in this bed...wasn’t.

“So,” the doctor continued, “if I could get you two to leave my clinic please and―”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Squelch stated flatly, still not taking her eyes off of Slipshod.

The kahi unicorn frowned and was about to issue a retort when Twilight stepped in between them, her gaze focused on the physician, “as I was trying to explain before: changelings are psychovores. You know this already. However, what you probably don’t know is that strong emotions don’t just sustain changelings, they can empower them.

“It is my belief that, with an infusion of enough strong, positive, emotions, Slipshod can regain enough strength to affect a shift back into his pony form. Which will allow you to properly treat him.”

The physician didn’t seem to be entirely convinced of the alicorn’s claims, but her response wasn't overtly dismissive, “look, any doctor will tell you that there’s a tangible benefit to the ‘power of positive thinking’ when it comes to treatment...but asking me to believe that ‘thinking happy thoughts’ will actually help my patient in and of itself―”

“I’ve seen it happen with my own eyes, on multiple occasions,” Twilight assured the doctor, “I promise you, this can work. Even if it doesn’t, there’s no additional risk to Slipshod.”

Doctor Vie Scope’s lips worked fitfully for several seconds as she mulled over the proposition. Finally, she let out a resigned sigh and nodded. “Fine; whatever.”

Twilight smiled, having achieved success in the next phase of her plan. She then looked between Squelch and the medical staff in the room, “perhaps some privacy as well? This is something of a personal matter.”

The tan mare was scowling again, “you want me to leave my near-death patient unsupervised while he’s subjected to a radical, untested, treatment?”

“I understand your frustration―” the alicorn began, but it was clear that the physician had her limit.

“No, I don’t think you do, or you wouldn’t be trying to kick me out of my own clinic so you can mess around with my patient! You understand that, right? How that is my patient?” she said, jabbing her hoof at Slipshod, “you’re the one who foisted him on me in the first place, remember? You don’t get to give me a patient and then start interfering with how I treat them. That’s not how this works!”

Twilight wasn’t looking any too thrilled by this point either, her lips drawing themselves into a thin line, “I assure you that I appreciate everything you’ve done, Doctor Scope; truly. I don’t doubt your commitment to your profession, or your patients. However, this is one matter where, the simple fact is, your professional training is lacking―through no fault of your own.

“I am asking you to be gracious and acknowledge my recommendation for a course of treatment―as I imagine you would when reviewing a prognosis from a specialist during a referral,” now her features shifted to become a little more mischievous, “and if I was trying to ‘kick you out’, I wouldn’t be politely asking you to leave.

“I’d just do this.”

Squelch and Twilight were suddenly alone in the clinical ward with Slipshod. Every other member of the staff had vanished in a flash of violet light. The sage unicorn’s mouth turned up in a wry smile, “oh, she’s not going to be happy about that.”

Twilight looked to the door, and zapped it with a burst of magic from her horn, forming a solid barrier across the portal, “eh, fuck her,” satisfied with her efforts to secure the room, and their privacy, she turned back to the unicorn and nodded, “I’ll, uh, leave you to do...whatever.”

Squelch looked a little apprehensive now, fidgeting on her hooves, “what do I do? Like, kiss him or something?”

Twilight let out a soft chuckle, “I mean, if you think that’ll be the surest way of expressing how much you love him, I guess you could try that? But…” she examined the network of tubing snaking from the unconscious changeling, “that’s probably easier said than done.

“Just be here for him,” the alicorn suggested, “that’s all that matters.”

“Is it weird that I kind of hope that this doesn’t work?” the unicorn glanced over at Twilight, “I mean, if it does, then that means I’m hopelessly in love with him, right? As in: feelings that will never go away no matter what happens between us? That’s what ‘true’ love is supposed to mean, isn’t it?”

The purple mare offered a wan smile to the unicorn, “I honestly couldn’t tell you,” she admitted, “I never found love―well, never looked for it really. A crush here and there,” she offered with a wry smirk, “but nothing super serious.

“I knew a lot of creatures who found love like that though,” the alicorn continued, her features clouding slightly now, “Cady and Shiny. She never remarried after my brother passed. Discord did after Fluttershy, but I know he still keeps pictures of her―and all his partners―around his home.

“Would that really be so bad though?” Twilight asked of the sage mare, “never losing that feeling?”

The unicorn took a deep breath and nodded along in understanding, though she wasn’t sure if she genuinely agreed with the sentiment. She turned to thank the purple mare, but Twilight was gone before she could say anything. Where to, Squelch wasn’t sure. Now it was just herself, Slipshod, and a symphony of beeping, whirring, machinery. The mare sighed and shook her head.

“My life used to be simple before I met you, you know that?” she muttered to the changeling as she stepped around and sat down next to the bed.

“No grand conspiracies, no changeling cabals, no massive army of dragons poised to invade the Sphere…” the paused and thought for a moment, frowning, “well, I guess those things all still existed,” the admitted, before shooting Slipshod an accusatory glare, “but I didn’t used to know about them!

“I mean, I wouldn’t’ve gone out and founded a merc outfit if I didn’t want at least some excitement in my life, but this has all been a bit much. I wasn’t prepared for it, and I don’t like that,” she groussed, “I hate getting involved in situations I don’t understand, because then how am I supposed to know what the consequences are? What contingencies to make?

“It’s...frustrating. You’re frustrating,” she added, shooting another glare at the changeling, “because it turns out I didn’t understand you either.

“I thought I’d had you all figured out too: disgraced noble turned freelance pilot. So cliche, I didn’t think twice about it. Didn’t think twice about you. You were just another ‘Steed jockey on my payroll...until you weren’t. You flirted with just about everypony when you came onboard. I figured it was who you were. A lot of nobles are rakes anyway.

“So, when you flirted with me, I brushed it off,” Squelch went on. Her features had softened by now, her eyes lingering on the changeling’s inert face. It was silly of her to think that she could see any of the familiar features there from his earth pony identity, but the unicorn still felt like she could. Inexplicably, it did look like Slipshod...somehow, “...at first.

“Then you did more than flirt. You talked with me, and not just about yourself, or the usual chit-chatty stuff. We talked about the future of the Coursers. We talked about what we wanted from life. I eventually stopped thinking of you as an ‘employee’ and started to think about you as a partner.”

The mare snorted now, shaking her head, “I was about to give you a stake in the company and officially make you a partner, in fact. I’d even drawn up a first draft of a contract to that effect...and then you proposed.”

Squelch paused for a moment, swallowing hard against a lump in her throat. She blinked a few times, ruefully determined to banish the stinging sensation she felt mounting just beneath her eyelids. That sort of thing was beneath her.

She took another deep breath before pressing on, “no fancy dinners. No mood lighting. No big gestures,” she cracked a smile, “you produced a comprehensive accounting report showing how much money on fuel I’d save if the two of us moved in together and cut off the power to your cabin,” the unicorn rolled her eyes, “how could I do anything but say: ‘yes’...

“What followed was probably the best year of my life,” she continued in a wistful tone, “emotionally, financially...everything was perfect.

“I wanted it to last forever like that…”

Squelch was forced to pause again. With a frustrated growl, she wiped at her eyes, mentally deriding them for having the gaul to produce tears. She sniffed to clear her nose and took another deep breath, determined to ignore the burning that persisted just above her cheeks, “when I came back to...that, in our bed…” she needed to take another slow breath, reminding herself that now was not the time to physically lash out at the stallion.

“That wasn’t the first time in my life I’d been betrayed by somepony I trusted,” she said through a firmly set jaw, “that dubious ‘honor’ goes to my mother, who asked to borrow five Blue-Bills from me as a filly...and never paid it back because: ‘I didn’t have the debt in writing’,” she sneered at the bitter memory.

“...but it was the betrayal that hurt me the most,” a mirthless chuckle managed to escape her lips, “I think I’d have been less angry if you’d actually embezzled from me or something. Because I could have understood stealing money from me. Ponies want as much money as they can get. I could have rationalized it.

“But cheating on me…” she sighed, “I didn’t understand that.

“We never argued. We never fought. You were always happy. I was always happy. I didn’t understand it, and you never tried to explain it.

“In hindsight, I think you knew that, if you’d given me any kind of excuse at all, I’d have bought it and tried to work things out between us,” the unicorn acknowledged ruefully. A little part of her was rather scathing for acknowledging that she might have been that...was ‘naive’ the word? Or was ‘desperate’ more fitting? Either way, she didn’t like the implication of what taking Slipshod back in exchange for whatever flimsy excuse the stallion had mustered would have been in regards to her character.

“You just told me that was the kind of stallion you were, and I either had to accept that or end things. So of course I ended things. I rationalized keeping you on payroll―Celestia knows why…” Squelch trailed off now. She closed her eyes and sighed, “no. I know why.

“I didn’t want you gone,” she reluctantly admitted.

“I hated you for what you did, but I still wanted you around; because I’d never been able to work so well with somepony before, the way that I could work with you. ‘Talking shop’ still seemed to be something that the two of us could do with some civility...so I took what I could get. I’d lost a husband, but I could still keep a good employee―a business partner.

“I could live with that. I did live with that.”

She glared over at the unconscious changeling, “and before you think I’m about to get overly sentimental on you; I can live without you too!

“...I just wouldn’t want to. If I can help it,” she amended more soberly.

“And now, Twilight’s telling me that I can ‘help it’; I just have to ‘love you enough’, or something else just as inane-sounding!” she threw her hooves up in the air, letting out a frustrated groan, “what? It’s not enough that I kept you around after you broke my heart? Not enough that I listened to you over my own better judgement and kept Twilight around―which is why I’m now flank deep in all this shit, by the way!

“It’s not enough that I want the two of us to always be carrying on together after all of this craziness is finally behind us?” her questions now sounded meke and wistful to her own ears. She was looking helplessly at the unconscious figure laying in the bed. Nothing about his condition or situation had seemed to change throughout the whole interaction. Which only frustrated the mare even further, prompting her to glare accusingly at the monitoring equipment, as though it was at fault for her lack of progress.

“What do you want from me?!” Squelch wasn’t sure if she was yelling at Slipshod of the equipment now, “do I need to actually say it? Is that how this works? Fine! I love you, you fuck!” she screamed at the changeling.

“I want you in my life forever! Happy now?!” she glared once more at the monitors, but she couldn’t spot any change in their readings.

“Bullshit!” she spat, going so far as to lash out and punch the display. The screen cracked and went dark. She wheeled on the changeling now, but fortunately managed to restrain herself from punching him for his lack of cooperation too, “that’s bullshit, and you know it!

“You’re a fucking changeling; you know exactly how I feel about you! You’ve always known, and that’s why you keep pushing me away; to ‘protect me’, or some shit. Well fuck you and your ‘protection’! I’m not some defenseless filly; I can protect myself just fine,” she screamed at the changeling, seething, “I run a fucking mercenary company, for Celestia’s sake. I like a little danger in my life!”

She wasn’t sitting anymore. The sage green unicorn mare was now up and leaning on the bed, staring directly down at the unconscious stallion’s face as she raged at him. His continued failure to respond to her screaming only further fueled her mounting frustration.

“For fuck’s sake, we could all die the moment we jump into Faust; so I don’t really care if loving you puts my life at risk,” she insisted, “I’d rather have just the one more year of life with you in it, than a hundred more without you…”

The admission, and the personal acknowledgement that came along with it, seemed to drain the mare of her anger. She deflated, resigned to her obvious failure, bowing her head over the changeling. Her brow brushed up against him. He felt so different now, compared with how she remembered it feeling when they’d cuddled up with each other in their past. Yet...it still felt like him somehow.

“...don’t make me do this without you.”

The machines around them hummed and beeped.

Then something hard brushed up against her hoof. Squelch jerked with a start and looked over. One of Slipshod’s pocked hooves was arched over her left fetlock. The mare gasped and pulled her head back, looking to the changeling’s face. One eye was half-lidded. Though there was no visible pupil within the amber orb, she knew immediately that the changeling was looking at her.

The tsunami of emotions was incredibly difficult for Squelch to process as she realized that he’d regained consciousness. She’d be a fool to think that the changeling was anywhere close to being meaningfully ‘better’, but it was certainly a marked improvement on his condition!

The unicorn very quickly fought to clamp down on the whirlwind of thoughts rushing through her head. She grudgingly admitted to herself that it was rather pointless to try and hide how she was feeling from a changeling, but the mare still felt inclined to at least pretend that she could retain some measure of dignity in her otherwise emotionally vulnerable state. So she took a moment to school her features and compose herself, doing her best to level a neutral expression at the bedridden stallion, “good; you’re not dead. I don’t need to post a wanted ad after all.

“Now turn yourself back into a pony so the doctors here can operate and save your life,” she instructed him, “because if you die and I do have to take out an ad? The cost’s coming out of your death benefits.”

It was a faint thing, but the corners of the changeling’s chitinous mouth pulled back in a rather pathetic approximation of a smile. But it was likely the best that the stallion was actually able to manage in his condition, and around the ventilator that was currently jammed down his throat, along with the paralytics that would have been injected into his neck to keep any residual gag reflexes in check. He lifted his head slightly, his eyes taking in his current situation, and the myriad of tubes coming out of his body.

Satisfied that he’d seen enough, Slipshod lay his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes. For a moment, Squelch was concerned that he’d fallen unconscious again. However, those worries were soon set aside when a green magical flame erupted at the crown of his head and spread down along his body. It krept slowly along his figure, morphing his figure as it went, molding it in such a way as to accommodate the medical equipment intruding on his body.

Nor did the transformation seem to limit itself to just his body either. As the mare watched, flickers of flame wormed their way through the various lengths of tubing, turning the green ichor into normal-looking red blood. Soon, a familiar-looking golden earth pony stallion lay where a changeling had been only moments ago. When it was over, a brown eye peered up at the unicorn. A half-lidded, visibly exhausted, eye. Another attempt at a smile was made.

Squelch wasn’t even aware that she’d been holding her breath when she let out the long, relieved, sigh. She maintained her impassive expression, but there was no doubt in her mind that Slipshod was able to clearly sense the immeasurable relief that she was feeling within, “good.

“By the way,” she added, her gaze became more stern as she looked at the stallion, “I’ve looked over your file,” she lied, “and I’ve calculated that, by the time you’re discharged from here, you’ll have used up all of your contracted sick days.

“If you take any more this year, I’ll be forced to count it as unpaid leave, and deduct it from your salary,” she took a breath and swallowed in an effort to keep herself looking properly reproachful at the prospect of an employee who was mismanaging their paid leave days. It mostly worked, “so...no more getting yourself almost killed. Got it?”

Slipshod simply looked at her, and gave the barest hint of a nod.

Author's Note

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