scout

by Flashgen

Rating: teen
Tags: Thriller, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Mystery, Colgate
Length: 1781

In the hive, I awaken. I am a scout.

As I sleep, I see flashes of before the slumber. I see when we stalked and learned. Eventually, I will awaken. I am a scout.

Written as a prequel to Snow Patrol by The Red Parade as part of Quills and Sofa Speedwriting group event "Expanded Universes." We submitted prompt stories that others could write a prequel or sequel to over a weekend.

It is recommended, if you have not, to read the original first. It's a great story in its own right.

Published 2020-07-08 00:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2020-07-08 00:50:01 UTC

awaken

In the deepest of slumbers, I still see flashes of the time before our sleep began. Soaring above mountains. Swimming below seas. Wading through brush and tree. Always out of sight. Stalking. Understanding. Learning.

Still, I know that I will be roused, when a threat may arise. It is to be.

One day, the earth and crystal and ice rumble faintly. Vibrations from an unseen source, carrying unspoken words that screech and hiss, cut through the silence. Slumber and peace cannot follow in their wake. I am the first to awaken. I am a scout.

The hive waits for me, as it is meant to. Claws drag me through darkened tunnels, following an intruding chill to its source. The closer I come, the louder the unspoken words, and the sooner my natural state exerts. Claws to legs. Mandibles to jaw. Antennae to eyes. The light is blinding, but I can make out the white covering the tunnel. I can feel its cold. I take it into me, to tread unseen amongst the white.

Soon, I am on the surface, and my eyes adjust. The light is everywhere, reflected by the white on the ground. The hissing and screeching is louder, but the words have stopped. My ears strain to find its direction, but they cannot. It is as if it rumbles and echoes within my mind.

I choose a direction in the white, away from the hive, and press on. The white below crunches from my steps. Eventually, the screeches and hissing begin to fade.

Turning about, I see the great peak below which is our home, our hive. Every inch is covered by the white—no, the snow. The concepts return slowly. There was not snow and ice around the hive when we began our slumber. Yet now it stretches in every direction, boundless, except for one. I wonder, for the faintest moment, how long it has been.

Right of the hive, north, there is something else. It is far, but glimmers in the sunlight. I march towards it.

The closer I come, the louder the screeching and hissing grows. I assume the glimmer must be a source. I cannot know if it is a threat.

My body sinks to the ground, blending in with the snow that I share a color with. Marching slows to slinking, approaching over hills as the glistening object comes closer. The glint comes from the top, growing and fading in a steady pattern. I can tell the object is grey or silver when the glint is weakest, and there is something red shining at the top.

Crossing another hilltop, I can make out its shape, a square tower jutting out from the snow. The top is curved, and rotates steadily. The red is a light, and without the glisten of the silver curve from afar, I can see that it is blinking as well. Aside from its top, it does not move. There is nothing else about it but snow and ice.

I make one step forward to approach it, but the screeching stops me. It explodes from an incessant whine to a blaring roar within my mind. I force my head into the snow, front legs wrapped about my ears to try and stop it. Amidst the hissing beneath it, I hear words. I can only make out a few: sensor, legend, sector, check.

As the screeching overwhelms my mind, my body acts as needed. As my hind legs inch back over the hilltop, my forelegs relax and join the effort. Distance does not stop the roar, or quiet it, but I know that it will protect me. Then I remember there will be tracks.

I strain to open my eyes as I look back at the valley behind me. My legs pull into my body, tense, and then I launch myself into the air. Ice I had not thought to shake free keeps my wings from perfect form, but they are able to flutter enough to slow my descent. Tucking my legs into my body, I land with a soft impact.

While the screeching lessens slightly, I focus on hiding myself. Legs and wings work to burrow into the snow, only the thinnest of covering over my face to be able to see in front of me and to hear about me.

I wait, wondering about how the words travel without sound, and why I hear them within my mind. I thought the tower might be the source, but there was nothing here but snow. The voices said check. Perhaps they will come from the source.

The sun had passed some distance in the sky, an hour perhaps, when something—besides the screeching and hissing words—cut through the natural silence. The crunch of movement in the snow. It was over the hill, near the tower; it had to come from the other side of the peak, the other side of the hive.

Then there were words, spoken ones.

“...see a thing in this place. Can’t make out anything except that mountain. That’s if I can even keep my eyes open for a few seconds.” The tone and patterns of the voice make memories surface in my mind, from the hive.

Male. Strong. Proud. Distrustful. Without sight, they cannot be confirmed.

“You’ll get used to it, trust me. Be thankful they at least give us compasses to tell where we’re going.” A laugh follows the words.

Female. Playful. Clever. Quick.

“Yeah, but they still make you come out and check on these things. See anything?”

There’s a pause, and in it, I tense, ready to run.

“Nothing around the tower for sure. Would have had to get close to leave tracks. Let me check the hill.”

My wings flutter beneath my carapace, keeping warm to fight the build of ice. Not an inch of me moves outwardly. To make the first move is to betray your nature.

I hear the steps approach the hill. The crunch one after another growing louder. They stop. They move about in place, turning from side to side.

“Nah, nothing. Must be a false alarm.”

The steps in the snow move away, and another screech builds within my head. I can hear the words that follow from their source and within my mind, beneath the hiss.

“Legend-1. All clear. Looks like a false alarm. We’ll make our way back.”

A voice then comes just from within.

“Roger, Minuette. I’ll buzz you in when you get back. Make it quick, the sun is getting low.”

The screeching and hissing fades, lower. The roar is gone completely.

“Let’s get back, Caramel. You know procedure, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. Had plenty of time to read that manual sitting around on my haunches.”

The steps fade, and eventually the voices do as well. I emerge from the snow and march back towards the hive.

Each time I leave the hive, it is much the same. I stalk the sensors, what they call the towers. I observe those that check on them. I listen, amidst the hideous screeches and hissing, for their words. How they speak. How their tones shift. How they act and talk to one another. The information is clearer for those that come to the sensors, where my ears can hear.

I learn their names, and their movements; when they are foolish enough to expose themselves to the elements, I learn their appearance. Sometimes I see them work on the sensors, because they think them broken. I slowly learn what their words mean. Legend-1, Legend-2: teams. Fritz: broken. Rog and Roger: okay. Mount Massive: the hive.

Every act I take, every memory I commit, is for the hive.

They do not know we are here. If they did, they would have left long ago.

One by one, others wake. Scouts, like me. While they explore and learn, only I venture towards them, towards the threat.

Other hives awaken too, and they whisper and move and learn with us.

Eventually, we know enough. We make our move.

“Midnight! Don’t listen to her! You’ve been compromised! Do you hear me? You’ve been compromised!” The words from a voice not my own cut through the hissing and screeching within my mind. It had taken so many weeks to resist it, to attune to it. In the end, we had turned what awoken us into an asset. “Open the door! They’re coming! Open the door!”

We had waited for when the one called Minuette would go to check their sensors, hopefully alone. It was difficult to predict. They so often came in pairs, except when they were close to the end of shifts. Minuette was altruistic, willing to help and carry a burden on her own. When she spoke to others, compassion spilled forth.

But it helped the hive more to be inside where they came from. The true source. The true threat.

The hive was prepared if I failed. Numbers were likely to outnumber them: hundreds to six. They had weapons, but it would not be enough.

As Legend-2 returned from another false alarm, I was already close. The hiss and screech lessened away from the sensors, but here it was always blaring and deafening; it was always coming in and going out of their base, fortified and secure. Two doors, inner and outer. Open one, close, open other, close.

Clung to the side, I felt the metal beneath me radiate with warmth. I took its color into me, reflected it. I crawled inside as the door hissed open. I stayed calm, still, never betraying my nature. When the second door opened, I followed them in and waited. Word of more alarms followed. The one called Minuette prepared to leave, alone.

“Don’t!” I said in a voice not my own, staring at a creature I pretended to know. Midnight looks between me, the picture of static obscuring the pony she knows outside, and the controls to open the door. Though she does not speak, the anguish exudes from her. It is tinged by something stronger, deeper. Words unsaid, unshared.

“MIDNIGHT! I’M GOING TO FUCKING DIE IF YOU DON’T OPEN THE DOOR!” The half-truth hisses from within my head and over the radio receiver.

Organic material, life, has always been difficult for us to mimic. Lifeless stone, cold snow, and warm metal all take merely a touch to blend in. To imitate and copy a living being takes consumption of its material by a member of the hive.

“Don’t! She’s not me!” Neither of us were her. Minuette had never left.

Midnight inhales and closes her eyes. As she fruitlessly tries to decide, I tense and ready myself to strike first.