A dull throbbing pain echoed in my head as I was roused. Every time blood pulsed through my head brought a fresh wave of pain, along with the screaming protests of the rest of my body, battered, bruised, and poorly dressed in medical bandages. I tried to sit up, only to find myself unable to move one leg without jerking the others, and from my position I discovered that my hooves were tied together through the holes in my legs with rope. Briefly I could tell it was night time now, the only lumination being a group of magical lanterns that glowed in the dark with a bright blue light.

I turned my head, uncomprehending my situation and saw the back of Grey's head, who was back to back with me on his side as well. Three legs tied together and his prosthetic one taken off and several meters away. Briefly I felt a surge of relief, though the sensation make me question why. Before I realized that they wouldn't tie up a dead stallion. But then again, who were 'they'?

A dozen black forms in stable military uniforms with the logo of 103 answered that question. "She's awake." one of them said, monotonously.

Eyes, solid in the blue coloration, the symbol of one underneath the direct influence of a hive controller. Which meant to my terror that a Hive Minder was nearby. With the absence of the royal caste, a caste of changelings that determined the direction and succession as well as directives of a hive, the Hive Minders were discovered through a scientists fluke of experimentation. They provided a rudimentary gateway into controlling and reinvigorating the hive mind portion of the changeling race. Not as powerful as the rumored royal caste, but strong enough to command others and subjugate them under his or her will, the hive minders were the strongest creations of the scientists in their attempts to recreate said royal caste. My eyes scanned rapidly through them, for any indicator of which was the Hive Minder, finding him and the key features that made a Hive Minder different than the rest of the changelings in the stable.

The key physical difference, as I looked, was the shell. A changeling's shell didn't move when their wings extended, instead withdrawing and extending from behind the shell when needed. Almost like a slit within the shell itself. A Hive minder's shell, was more akin to a beetle. folding up and out of the wings way before allowing them to take off. As a result their wings could be larger, but it came at the cost of being unable to disguise themselves as a pegasus or another airborne race. Not that there was much of those in the wasteland.

Another key feature, I noted, with some dismay, was the overall jagged appearance of the hive minder. The shell had sharp twists along its surface giving it a rudimentary spike like appearance, along with their horns being far more sharper and twisted than average changeling. Like my own strange horn, their horn was like a jagged lightning bolt, only purposely trimmed to be able to act as a barbed blade as well, unlike mine which had grown the way it was naturally. The pressure of my headache increased and my vision swam, causing my head to fall again back onto the ground as the pounding sensation increased. "We should kill them." One of the changeling's said, "Bring back their heads, its a long distance between the stable and here. No telling what other mischief these two can cause on the way back."

"The Director wanted her alive." Another voice said, "Though he said nothing about her company."

"So we kill him then?" a third asked.

The Hive Minder interjected, "Make her do it, perhaps it will teach her her place in this world."

"Have you claimed control over her yet?"

"Working on it." The Hive Minder said, "These younglings are so irritating with their lack of fully formed connectors. First linking is always a troublesome act, as you no doubt know."

I spasmed, trying futilely to reach for my head, as the pain increased ten fold. Some hooves held me still and another stepped lightly on my horn, which sputtered out, due to being unable to focus through the pain and the hoof upon my already sore horn. I let out a scream, that was brought to a halt as I felt something, or rather someone, wrap itself around my consciousness, and suddenly pain being replaced by... voices?

My eyes opened, though not at my own accord, it was like viewing things through the eyes of many, and yet none, as I felt myself pushed back out of my own eyes. As if a thick screen had been placed between my vision of the world. My Spasms ceased as a similar feeling encased the rest of my body, and I squirmed, in discomfort and direct control of my body wrenched away as though my strings had been cut from a puppet. All I had left was the senses of the mind, grabbed roughly, contained, and controlled. I fought for the control bitterly in my mind, but sheer willpower was not a substitute for skill as the far more trained and stronger changeling pushed aside my mental flailings with almost contemptuous ease. Dimly I could hear the voices, "Control has been acquired. Release her."

I curled, mentally, into a ball as they undid the rope around my hooves, and my body uprighted by itself. I could feel the hive minder prying into my memories, ripping them open for the hive to see, like a balloon punctured, and sending fragments everywhere. I was myself yet everyone else. The overriding directive of the hive minder stripping out my freedom and will.

The hive minder drained me of my reserves of magic, like a hose between the two, another feeling of violation, no lesser than the last of my personal space. He made a face as the reserves of my newer magic refused to go with it, but it was but a bump to him, rather than the steady stream of a hose that the rest of the changeling variant of magic was to him, and ignored as another mutation in my body, similar to my wings which only got a curious glance out of him.

They handed me a pistol, no not just a pistol. Grey's Pistol I recalled between shattered moments. Lucky in my mouth, as they uprighted my mentor, to face me, and slapped him awake. After a few moments his eyes fluttered to awake, as he stared blearily at me, "Aria?" He asked, before he noticed my eyes and the surrounding changelings, "Oh Great..." he muttered.

Vaguely I hoped that my mentor could escape this situation, and I fought to regain control of my mouth once more, as my head and body lined itself up with his head. The voice sneered, in my head and aloud in contempt, "Did you really think betraying the stable would go unnoticed Grey Iron? That we would not take precautions in case you betrayed the stable? Your pet changeling is now under the influence of the hive for good now. Your efforts to save this ling have been in vain."

Grey worked his jaw, cracking his neck as he deadpanned, "Then why, am I alive?" he asked.

"The Masters had a specific punishment for you in mind if we had captured project 1993-13 alongside yourself. A taste of irony for your death."

The more I yanked, pulled, and fought for my control, the more I felt like I was trying to fight a brick wall that was collapsing in the wrong direction. "Your sense of worthless sentiment is duly noted." Grey replied, in turn, "And I believe handing my best student my pistol to be a rather large error on your part."

"We will see how large an error it makes in your head." The Minder snarked, "1993-13. Shoot him."

My body adjusted to follow the command, and more I fought. Grey smiled softly to to me, one of the few smiles that ever decorated his face over the time I knew him, "Its not your fault Aria. Just remember that."

That smile, and his tone of voice, he had accepted this finality and I wanted to cry. But true to Greys training I fought, I would fight to the bitter last moments of my life. I felt my tongue wrap around the trigger, but with a surge of unadultered fury and desperation my body hesitated.

"What are you waiting for?" The Hive Minder asked, "I told you to shoot."

The wall became stronger, and I gasped in agony as I felt a mental whip strike my conciousness, but I didn't relent. milimeter by milimeter my head slowly started to turn to face him. Intending to shoot him, and Grey's grin grew wider, "That's my girl."

I was tackled by no less than three changelings, gun twirling out of my mouth and onto the ground between them and Grey. Who struggled against his bonds, "No!"

"Enough of this." The hive minder stated, irritated, "There will be plenty of time to break her spirit in the stable. If you want something done properly you do it yourself." He drew one of the combat blades that adorned the chest guard of a changeling, and marched steadily towards Grey.

Then he paused, ears flicking to a noise, a noise that was making itself evident as something came closer. The sound of a rapidly approaching set of paws. Then there was a growl and a quick bark as a grey mass bodily rammed into the group. A hurricane of fangs, and claws upon the nearest changeling as another noise joined the fray.

P'tunk! came the other noise in the confusion, and something large, and shaped similarly to a pistol round but several inches larger bounced off the ground and into the face of a changeling. Who barely let out a confused, "What?" before it exploded with all the bright fire of a grenade. The changelings scattered, confused and disoreinted, in the first few seconds of the brawl, four had died to the explosion and the hive minder's concentration and control over the changelings had broken. His magic flared to life as he threw Scrap off him, and took to the air, back peddling as an orange pegasus sweeped by again, firing another round into a fleeing changeling's back, it going off above his head and incinerating the unfortunate bug.

I felt the control over my body slip and I felt dazed as all the sensations in my body returned, and my vision swam again, and balance failed me as I staggered about the sudden battlefield as though drunk. Grey, better off than I was, had managed to free up his back leg, and was working himself into a stand, when one of the changelings fleeing turned and drew his knife with his magic, eyes still alight in the blue of being controlled. Magic propelled the knife, large, wicked, serrated, and curved as he threw it at me, my own legs tangled in each other as I focused on regaining a measure of my senses couldn't move in time, and was helpless as time seemed to slow down.

A strange light suddenly burned in Grey's eyes. He threw himself in front of me, his mouth open in a soundless snarl. The dagger struck him with a soft thump, and he landed heavily on his shoulder. His head lolled limply.

I screamed, "No!" even though I was doubled over with exhaustion, and my body wanted nothing more than to rest again and reevaluate its senses, I forced myself to go to him, seeking out my discarded bag and dragging it with me. I opened it, and dug through glasses of shattered medical potions as I looked for an intact one, most of them having shattered in the after math of Cait's death. I wished internally that I could cast my medical spells, but I neither had the energy or the magical ability to cast them after my magic had been changed. Finally my glass ripped hoof found a few potions intact, and I hurriedly got to work again, performing the same operation I had with Scrapyard, a potion down the throat, and a potion in the wound, and hoped it would be enough.

I felt a furry head nudge me as I waited with abated breath as Scrapyard's eyes and muzzle flooded the left half of my vision, as if saying, 'I am here...'

I nudged him back, a bit comforted by his presence, but still worried as I saw the potion take effect, flesh stitching itself back together as if by an invisible hand, and Grey stirred, but didn't awaken. I brushed his fur, staring at the skin beneath it. It was ashen, white, and pale. My mind questioned this, as I drew myself back to the knife, soaked in Greys blood. yet... congealing...? The blood on the blade was growing darker, and gathering up, almost seeming solid, my mind put the symptoms together and my mind, realizing the worst, stated the word out for me.

Poison.

Xp Footnote: 85% until level up.

Companion: Grey Iron is Unconscious!

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