The door chime woke him up.

Slipshod groaned as he struggled to lift himself out of the bed. One of his forelimbs started shaking under the strain of propping the rest of his body up. He clamped down on it soundly with the other hoof and took a deep, fortifying, breath as he swung himself off the mattress and onto the floor. The next few seconds were spent waiting for the dizziness to pass, and the blackness to retreat from the corners of his eyes. Once he had his wits about him, he retrieved the glass of water from the table beside his cot and used it to wash back a pair of capsules that the ship’s doctor had been kind enough to provide for him.

The official reason that the ‘Steed pilot had given to Doc Dee for why he’d needed the stimulants was because of all of the late night planning conferences that he’d been having with Twilight and Squelch. Unofficially, however, the real reason was much different. However, there was little reason to bother revealing it to anypony else on the ship.

It’s not like telling anypony would help things.

Everypony on the Galloway hated the ‘monster’ that was onboard. No secret was made about that. Slipshod was along for the ride because he was essential to the mission. At least, the first part of it. Once he’d succeeded at making contact with Victoria Blueblood, he’d have outlived the bulk of his usefulness to the campaign to invade the Harmony Sphere.

Which was quite fortuitous, if he was being honest.

The chime buzzed a second time.

“Come in,” he called out hoarsely, immediately clearing his throat and taking another long gulp of water. The door opened, revealing a tall purple figure standing in the doorway, “G’morning, princess. What can I do for you?”

“It’s evening, actually,” the alicorn corrected. Slipshod glanced over at the clock on his desk and noted that the hour was, in fact, quite late. He frowned, not particularly caring for how frequently he was losing track of time. He was spending more hours asleep than he was awake these days. There was no helping that though, “I came by to let you know that we’ve arrived in Minos. We’ve started pulling records from the system network. We could use your help figuring out where to start looking for Victoria.”

Slipshod nodded, “yeah. Got it. I’ll be right up,” he took a deep breath and massaged the bridge of his nose, willing the stimulants to kick in faster, “conference room, right?”

“Yes,” the purple mare hesitated, regarding the earth pony, “are you feeling okay?”

“Just some jump lag,” he lied, relieved to know that it still came easy to him, even in his weakened state, “we just finished averaging a jump an hour for the last day and a half, for the second time in a month,” he flashed the mare a tired smile, “that’s got to be some kind of record. I’ll be fine in a few minutes,” he assured her, hoping that he was being just a little bit more truthful this time. The pills usually did the trick of getting him up and looking peppy for a few hours before the effects wore off and he found himself struggling to even stand up straight again.

“...Alright. See you in a few minutes,” Twilight said. She turned, leaving the room and allowing the door to close behind her.

The moment he was alone again, Slipshod let the facade drop away, panting harshly as he finally allowed himself to relax. He wiped away at his mouth, where rivlets of drool had been threatening to seep out and dribble down his chin. Concern. Compassion. A desire to help him. The princess’ delicate emotions had been hammering at his skull, just begging to be gorged upon.

The temptation to pounce on the mare and drain her of every last shred of her being had been quite powerful. Stronger than during any of her previous visits. Likely those compulsions to forcefully feed from her―or any of the others―was only going to get stronger with time. The more ravenously hungry he got, the more tempted he’d be to discard any of the remaining shreds of his inhibitions. For now, he could fight back those primal urges. He could focus on the mission, and the good of the crew.

For now.

That wouldn’t be the case for much longer though. A few more weeks. A month at the outside. After that...he doubted that there was any possibility that he’d be able to retain enough self-control to overcome that visceral desire to keep from starving to death. He wouldn’t be able to help himself, and he certainly wouldn’t be able to control himself. Whoever he cornered while he was in that state...they wouldn’t survive.

He wouldn’t let that happen though. Once they’d made contact with Victoria, he’d find a way to...solve the issue. Permanently.

Everything would be up to the others anyway, whether he was still around or not; so it shouldn’t affect the mission all that much.

Once the golden earth pony recomposed himself, he stepped up to the door and pushed a button on the interior comm panel, “I’m ready to come out, Sabot.”

A second later, the door to his quarters opened. A silver unicorn mare dressed in her duty barding, and with a loaded carbine floating near her chest, stepped back from the open portal, just out of hypothetical lunge range if her charge tried anything, and gestured for him to precede her down the corridor. The stallion wore a sad smile as he noted the way that the security pony was looking at him―to say nothing of the feelings that she was directing at him. Flechette had never looked at Twilight like that when he’d been escorting her.

Then again, Twilight hadn’t been responsible for getting their last boss killed. So, perhaps that wasn’t a fair comparison.

He turned and wordlessly started walking down the narrow corridor, heading for the DropShip’s conference room. He kept his head down, and his gaze focused on the floor. Both to avoid accidentally doing anything that Sabot might find suspicious and cause her to lash out at him, and also because he still didn’t quite trust his sense of balance. The last thing that he wanted to do was trip or collapse and draw all sorts of attention to himself.

A small gasp from his right drew the stallion’s gaze. He couldn’t stop himself from looking, if only briefly. That short second was all he needed though. The strawberry unicorn mare and her terrified expression instantly burned itself into his brain. That look of abject fear in her eyes would likely haunt him for the rest of the day. The look of a pony who’d just seen a monster and was afraid for her very life.

Slipshod focused his gaze ahead of him and didn’t miss a step as he kept walking. If nothing else, the encounter was a firm reminder of why it was a good idea for him not to leave his quarters more than was absolutely necessary.

Squelch and Twilight were waiting for him in the conference room. The largest of the wall-mounted displays was scrolling through what looked to be passenger manifests. As he got closer, he noted that the date placed those rosters at a little over two years of age. Approximately the time that Victoria would have been smuggled into the system.

The sage green unicorn looked up at his entrance, “good; you’re here. We just finished downloading the passenger records for the time period we think would have been covered; but if you have any hard names and dates that would be a lot of help.”

“Dates, no,” he admitted as he climbed into one of the seats, relishing being off his hooves even after that short walk. It probably wasn’t a good sign that even a brief jaunt from one side of the ship to the other was wearing him out, “but I do know the name she was given: Corsair. Vought Corsair.”

“Alright, well that shouldn’t be too hard to find,” the unicorn mumbled as she began to work at her console, “just do a quick search and―oh, shit…” the mare looked up from her own display with a surprised expression and a moment later transferred her findings to the main monitor, “Victoria’s been very busy, it seems.”

Both Twilight and Slipshod looked at the display, and the earth pony felt his jaw go slack. Squelch had indeed been successful in finding the date of Victoria Blueblood’s arrival into Concordat territory, but a search under her alias had also revealed quite a bit more about what the mare had been getting herself up to these last two years. Her new persona was listed as being the current commander of a band of mercenaries going by the moniker: Crimson Corsairs.

Well, ‘mercenary’ might be putting too nice a polish on things. A lot of the article’s referred to the group as a straight up pirate band. Though, Slipshod did suppose that one side’s ‘mercenary’ was another side’s ‘raider’, and it did seem like it was mostly news outlets from Harmony Sphere sources which were giving the group the latter label. None of the Periphery powers seemed to take too much issue with anything Victoria and her group were doing.

“Well, at least tracking her down won’t be hard,” the earth pony noted with some mirth, “we can literally just reach out and request a meeting to discuss a ‘job’.”

“That does seem to be the easiest route to take,” Twilight agreed, “and it looks like she’s already got quite a few resources at her disposal. Not saying we could take the Commonwealth without the Dragoons,” she qualified hastily, “but she won’t be showing up in the Sphere completely unsupported either.”

“Which is good,” Squelch noted, “Showing up with a solid core of her own forces at her back will only help to legitimize her. If all she had going for her were mercenaries and no regulars, it would look like she was effectively ‘buying’ the throne. Which is a perfectly valid strategy, of course,” the mare added after a moment’s thought, “but it could hurt her politically in the long term.”

“Not to mention that it might raise a flag or two with Chrysalis if the Dragoons just suddenly threw themselves behind Victoria if she showed up with nothing of her own,” Slipshod pointed out.

Another thought seemed to occur to the mare, “speaking of,” she looked in Slipshod’s direction, “ComSpark was pretty keen on keeping Victoria from becoming archon before. What if they try and stop a second coup?”

That was a concern that the earth pony had also been privately nursing. However, the more he thought about it, the less he believed that Chrysalis would do anything to actively oppose the change in leadership this time. Mostly because she wouldn’t really have the same options available to her this time, “when it was just a plot being talked about in back rooms, it was easy for her agents to leak the intel to Dominus’ counter-intelligence staff and let him handle it more or less on his own,” he pointed out, “ComSpark didn’t do anything directly. They’re officially strictly neutral in political matters, remember?”

“This time, it won’t matter if anything gets ‘leaked’ to Dominus, because it’s basically just going to be an open revolt anyway. ComSpark’s hooves will be more-or-less tied. They can’t condemn a merc company for taking a valid contract without raising some high-profile eyebrows. There might be a changeling-backed assassination attempt or something along the way,” he acknowledged with a shrug, “but that’s always the quickest way to stop an usurping attempt, and is something that Dominus would try even without Chrysalis’ help.

“The point is: Chrysalis won’t be able to openly move against anything we do in the Commonwealth,” Slipshod concluded with certainty, “what she will be doing though is making sure she has agents in place ready to infiltrate the new administration if Victoria does end up becoming the next archon,” he looked over at Twilight, “that’s honestly our biggest concern: keeping the Clans off Chrysalis’ radar before we’ve set Victoria on the throne. Give her as little warning to work with as possible.

“Keeping Chrysalis in the dark until our forces are just outside the Faust System is unrealistic,” the earth pony said, shaking his head, “No matter how hard we try, changelings are going to make their way into Victoria’s new administration. There aren’t nearly enough of those zebras and that salve to screen the billions of citizens of the Commonwealth. The moment we start coordinating anything about the invasion through Commonwealth territory, we need to assume that Chrysalis know’s we’re coming.”

The two mares exchanged uncomfortable expressions, but both knew that Slipshod was making a valid point. Keeping an invasion force the size needed to take Equus a secret would be impossible once they were firmly in the Harmony Sphere again, and trying to vet every creature involved in the Commonwealth’s command and logistics networks for changeling agents would be effectively impractical besides. No matter what they did, Chrysalis would know that they were coming. Honestly, that hadn’t been the biggest issue with the invasion anyway. The original plan calling for a forceful push through a narrow corridor wouldn’t exactly have gone unnoticed from the outset either.

What they stood to gain going this route was an unimpeded line of advance which would allow them to reach Equus in a matter of months, instead of years, without taking any losses or worrying about shedding forces to safeguard their supply lines.

That being said, there was no telling how long the coup itself could take. That might end up taking several years on its own. If Chrysalis learned about the Clans and what they were planning before Victoria was made Archon, then that could end up spelling disaster for them. It would give the changelings time enough to begin putting in place preparation for a Sphere-wide mobilization against the Clans. Which would arguably be worse for them than an outright invasion would have been.

If this was going to go smoothly, ComSpark needed to remain ignorant of the real backers of the coup until Victoria was crowned, at the least. Which broached the question:

“Do we tell Victoria about who we’re really working for?” Slipshod asked. He found it telling that Twilight wasn’t immediately discounting the idea of keeping the Clans a secret from her out of hoof. She actually seemed to be genuinely weighing the pros and cons of that approach.

However, ultimately, the purple mare shook her head, “we can’t keep this from her,” she insisted, “otherwise we risk her denying us passage anyway when she does eventually find out,” that was a good point, the earth pony acknowledged, “however,” the alicorn went on, shifting a little more uneasily now, drawing a raised brow front he stallion, “I do think that we should keep that knowledge to just her. For the time being.

“The more creatures who know, the more potential sources that can end up leaking it to Chrysalis. Victoria has a right to know what she’d getting into with us, and what it is we’ll be asking from her in the future, but it is still important to try and keep as much about the Clans as we can a secret from the rest of the Sphere until we’re ready to make our move on Chrysalis.”

That seemed like a fair compromise, Slipshod decided. Twilight was right that Victoria would prove to be a better ally in the long-term if they were upfront with her and what it was that the Clans hoped to receive in exchange for their support of her ascension.

“Agreed,” Squelch announced, “I’ll start putting together a message for transmit,” she looked in Slipshod’s direction, “I need you to send me some code word or phrase I can use so that she’ll know that you’re involved. That might bump us up on her list of priorities when it comes to giving us a response,” the stallion nodded, he’d spent a fair portion of the last few weeks in transit rereading the letters that he’d received from the real Slipshod’s father so that he had a better understanding of how the codes were supposed to work. Hopefully Victoria still remembered them too.

“Good. In the meantime, I’m going to take the opportunity to register our new mercenary company,” the sage green unicorn said with a hint of bitterness. While little about their outfit had really changed beyond the name and the color palette, it still felt like something of a loss to her. The Steel Coursers had been her creation―her intended legacy. But now they were gone, and it felt like she was establishing something lesser in their place.

This despite the fact that, other than the name, hardly anything about their company had changed. Only a hoofful of the crew had elected to remain behind in Clan territory, finding the accommodations not all that bad. Wing Nut had told Squelch that it felt like something of an early retirement for her. One that was better than she’d believed she could achieve in the Sphere.

That had certainly been the minority opinion though. The bulk of the crew had jumped at the chance to get back into space, especially when it was made clear that they’d be going back to doing merc work again. The sort of creature that became a mercenary in the first place tended to be the sort that craved adventure and thrills. There were plenty of much safer and more boring ways to make a lot of C-bits, after all.

Squelch really just wished that she’d been the one to come up with the name, and not the Clan’s intel spooks who’d forged their new identities. Spies just didn’t seem to have an appreciation for the artform that was naming a merc outfit.

‘Rayleigh’s Irregulars’ sounded less like a dignified mercenary outfit, and more like the name of a particularly insubordinate militia detachment. Their ship’s new name, Zathura was less objectionable, at least. Though its new black and red paint job left a lot to be desired. To say nothing of the uniforms. Those looked a lot less professional in Squelch’s estimation.

Or, rather―the mare thought with a bitter scowl―’Rayleigh’s’ estimation.

Not every member of the crew had been forced to adopt aliases. In fact, it had really only been herself. She was the registered owner of the ship and the company, and so her name would be showing up on a lot of documentation. Documentation that would inevitably find its way to ComSpark and the MRB. Squelch was known to them to be helping Twilight Sparkle―whose new pseudonym was: Dusk Shine―and so having her name show up as the leader of another mercenary company, even one with a different name, risked setting off too many alarm bells with the enemy.

Not that she was going to insist that any of the crew call her by her new identity. As far as the unicorn was concerned, that name was strictly used for tax purposes. On this ship, she was still going to use Squelch.

“Is it too late to do anything about the uniforms?” the earth pony asked, “the red’s not nearly as slimming.”

“Yes,” Squelch said with a smirk, wondering a little at how the stallion had apparently been thinking similar thoughts to her own, “but it’s not going to matter, because nopony’s going to be seeing much of you from inside your ‘Steed anyway.”

Slipshod blinked in shock, “...you’re going to actually let me fight?”

The mare didn’t look up from where she’d turned to study her console, “I’m not about to send just Twilight and Xanadu out on ops alone and keep a perfectly fine BattleSteed―and marginally competent pilot,” she cast the stallion an aside glance which contained just the faintest hint of amusement, “on the sidelines. Not if we end up getting into any serious fights.

“If there’s no other questions,” the unicorn said, suddenly changing the topic of conversation as she shut down her console and turned for the door, suggesting that she wasn’t particularly interested in fielding any actual questions at the moment anyway, “I have a company to register and some work contracts to review.

“Rayleigh’s Irregulars should have some work under their belts before they go reaching out to other established outfits. Especially if we want Victoria’s―sorry, Corsair’s―pilots to take us seriously.”

The pair sat in silence for several seconds after Squelch left. The revelation that he’d be permitted to go on missions had certainly come as quite the surprise to the stallion. He’d fully expected to spend the entirety of his voyage confined to his quarters. That Squelch trusted him enough to let him near a ‘Steed again was...welsome. Perhaps ultimately unnecessary, the stallion thought wanly to himself, but still a pleasant thought.

Slipshod took the better part of a minute sitting in his seat gathering his strength to stand and begin the short―but extremely arduous―walk back to his quarters so that he could go back to sleep. If a walk down the hall winded him, there was no reasonable way that he was going to be able to take a ‘Steed into battle.

He didn’t know why the alicorn was staying. Surely Twilight had some business to attend to that would take her out of the room so that the stallion could stagger in private.

“...how are you holding up?” the purple mare asked.

Slipshod cringed inwardly. This was not a conversation that he wanted to have. With Twilight or anypony else, “fine,” was his terse reply, “just a little tired. Like I said: jump lag. It’ll pass.”

“Uh huh. When’s the last time you ate?”

“Cookie sent up pancakes this morning,” the stallion said, casually avoiding what he knew the actual meaning to be, “I slept through lunch though. I understand that dinner’s minestrone.”

“You know what I meant.”

“I do.”

“And…?”

Slipshod took a deep breath and let it out slowly, working to keep both his thoughts focused, and his emotions in check. The alicorn was treading on potentially deadly ground at the moment, with the state that he was in, “you are the pony who hates me the least on this ship,” he articulated in a very carefully controlled tone, “and you still do not possess fond feelings for me.

“For me to eat in this environment, would require a forceful feeding,” he turned his head, leveling a cold stare at the purple mare, “...and nopony wants that.”

“They don’t hate you,” Twilight insisted quietly, “they’re just...afraid of you is all.”

“And ponies hate what they fear,” Slipshod quipped, turning back around and closing his eyes. Just looking at the princess was starting to trigger some very predatory urges deep within him with the state that he was in.

“Then let them get to know you―the real you! They’ll stop being afraid, they’ll stop hating you―they might even start to like you again!”

The stallion couldn’t restrain the derisive cackle that escaped his lips at the mere thought of such a thing happening. Besides, “they’d have to be willing to stick around me long enough to have a conversation for there to be a chance of that,” he pointed out, “and none of them would, if given a choice.

“What do you plan to do? Tie them up and force them to spend the day with me?”

“I…” the mare began, her words drifting into silence as she was unable to come up with a response, “I don’t know,” she finally admitted.

“Well, neither do I,” finally, Slipshod decided that if Twilight wasn’t going to leave him in peace, then he’d have to be the one to do it. The stallion got out of the chair in what could perhaps best be described as a manner approximating a ‘well-controlled fall’, and proceeded to lean against it for several seconds while he caught his breath. Those stimulant capsules were either losing their potency, or he was getting fatigued a lot more quickly these days. Almost certainly the latter. He’d have to start increasing the dose beyond what the ship’s physician had recommended.

What harm would there be in that anyway? It’s not like dying of an overdose was a significant difference from what would ultimately be killing him in a few weeks anyway.

Finally confident that he had his legs firmly under him, he stepped past the alicorn and headed for the exit. He paused at the door, “just...don’t let this be for nothing, okay? Stop Chrysalis,” he tapped the control panel and opened the door. The security mare was waiting for him on the other side, and promptly gave him room enough to pass so that he wouldn’t be within hooves-reach of her carbine, “Hey, Sabot.”

The unicorn mare said nothing in response, merely glaring daggers at him. The golden stallion looked over his shoulder at the princess and shared a knowing glance with her, indicating the guardspony. Twilight bowed her head in resignation. Slipshod started trudging back to his quarters at gunpoint.

The door chime woke him up.

Slipshod groaned, sputtering, “I sent the code phrase already,” and then rolled over. He was too weak and tired to be bothered to get up for anything that he wasn’t positive was important. He knew that not nearly enough time had passed for them to be meeting with Victoria/Corsair. Squelch might have found some work for them, he supposed, but if that was the case then he was going to need to tell her, in no uncertain terms, that he simply wasn’t physically capable of helping them with a mission. No matter how much he might have been touched by her offer to let him participate.

The door chime repeated.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake what?!”

“You have a visitor.”

It wasn’t a mare’s voice that replied over the intercom. This caused a brief moment of confusion in the stallion. He looked towards the room’s clock and sighed. More than twelve hours had passed since his meeting in the conference room. Sabot wasn’t on shift anymore. This would be Breech Block. As for who the visitor was, he couldn’t even guess. Nopony should be needing him for anything for at least the next few days.

The earth pony let out another, more annoyed, groan. He was in no condition to deal with anypony. He could barely sit up on his own without pharmaceutical help. Whoever this was, and whatever they wanted, he hoped they made it quick, “fine, let ‘em in,” he relented.

The door opened, and the earth pony was forced to squint as the brighter lights of the corridor flooded into his dark quarters. When his eyes finally adjusted, his head cocked to the side in confusion, “...Xanadu? The fuck do you want?”

The zebra ‘Steed pilot who represented the second-newest addition to the crew of the Galloway―er, Zathura―after Cinder, flashed the bedridden stallion a wry smile, “you’re even more of a charmer than I’ve heard,” he reached out and turned on the room’s lights, extracting a second, more annoyed wince from the earth pony.

“If you’re here to ask for permission to use the Cavalier, then it’s yours. Take it,” Slipshod groaned, rolling over in his bed so that he was facing the wall.

“That’s very generous of you,” the zebra said in a rather amused tone, “but it’s not why I’m here.”

The golden stallion frowned and looked back over his shoulder, narrowing his gaze at the striped equine, “...then why are you here?”

“Dusk Shine said you could use someone to talk to,” Xanadu replied simply, walking over and straddling the chair at the desk, somehow managing to seat himself in it in a reverse fashion, leading over the seat’s back. He was obviously rather limber, “or are we still calling her Purple Rose?

“Actually,” the zebra hastily corrected himself, flashing the earth pony a bemused look, “is everypony on the ship really still supposed to pretend that she’s not the real Queen Twilight Sparkle? Because some of the ponies on this ship when I first arrived were doing a really good job of playing dumb…”

Slipshod snorted and rolled back over towards the wall, “I call her Twilight. I think she prefers that name.

“And I’m fine.”

“That’s not what Twilight said,” the zebra said, not sounding the least bit phased, “she says you’re dying.”

“She’s being dramatic,” the golden earth pony lied easily. Dancing around the truth was in his very nature, “I’m just tired is all.”

“Damn, you’re really good at that!” Xanadu proclaimed, sounding genuinely impressed. The other stallion looked back over his shoulder again, flashing his striped guest a confused look, “at lying, I mean. I don’t think I could sound that convincing even if I was telling the truth.

“Not that I’m trying to be insulting or anything,” he quickly assured the earth pony, again sounding quite sincere. Indeed, Slipshod didn’t detect even a sliver of animosity behind the zebra’s inviting expression. If anything, that only served to confound him even more, “some creatures are just really good at feigning feelings and emotions, and I’ve always found that to be a fascinating skill.

“Any time I’m watching a vid and the actors in it are looking genuinely angry, or sad, or happy, or whatever; I can’t help but remind myself that those creatures aren’t really any of those things in that moment. They’re just pretending to feel that way. Probably not for the first time either, depending on how many takes they had to do to get everything in the scene right.

“It’s got to be super hard to convince creatures that you feel a certain way, while actually not feeling anything at all like it. I mean, I know I couldn’t. I’m a terrible liar. Terrible poker player too,” he added with an amused snort, “took losing a few thousand C-bits in my life to finally accept that.

“But you…” Xanadu flashed a grin at the earth pony, “Oh, I bet you’d clean up at a poker table,” he propped his chin up on his hooves, his eyes dancing in the reclining stallion’s direction, “I’d love to watch you work sometime.”

The zerba wasn’t far off the mark, actually. Though the jury was out on how much of Slipshod’s gambling success was due to his ability to skim the emotional state of his opponents―and thus their respective elation or disgust at their cards―or to keeping his own outward facing features in check, “...thanks?”

He honestly wasn’t sure how he was supposed to be reacting here. Which was a first for him. He was generally pretty good at reading social cues and tailoring his responses to them appropriately in order to serve the setting and get what he needed out of the encounter. But, this time...there wasn’t anything to really ‘read’. Xanadu was doing the emotional equivalent of screaming from the rooftops at the moment.

Most creatures, no matter how pleasant and open they appeared to be, were always holding something back. Not necessarily anything nefarious. Just a little polite reservation in order to keep from committing any social faux pas and risking alienating their peers. Nearly every creature, in some way, ‘projected’ a version of themselves to the public that wasn’t completely a reflection of their true selves.

Squelch, for example, carried herself as a no-nonsense business-minded mare with her eyes on the next fat contract. She wasn’t particularly cutthroat, but she was definitely a shrewd negotiator, and she took her business seriously. That was how the clients saw her. It was how the crew saw her.

But that wasn’t everything. Beneath that calm and calculating exterior was a mare genuinely valued intimate personal relationships. It was a part of her that she didn’t broadcast to the world, because she didn’t think prospective employers would take her nearly as seriously if she let them see her fawning over a stallion that she cared about. In another life, she could have been a homemaker instead of a mercenary contractor.

However, that wasn’t the case with Xanadu. The zebra wasn’t holding anything back. He was being open, upfront, and genuine with his feelings.

It was an extremely dangerous prospect given his current company.

Slipshod turned away a third time, surreptitiously using the bedsheet to wipe away the drool that was starting to seep between his lips. The striped stallion needed to leave while Slipshod could still control himself, “I’m really tired. You should go,” he swallowed, “please.”

“Ooh,” Xanadu shook his head now, frowning a little, “see, now that time you didn’t do so good. At least with the first part. The second part was you being honest, but that first bit...we both know you’re not actually tired.

“You just want me to go because you’re afraid you’ll drain all my emotions and kill me.”

Slipshod went rigid with shock, his eyes wide. There was an instinctive moment of panic that coursed through his body at the prospect that his nature as a changeling had been discovered. That feeling passed quickly though as his brain receded from instinct and processed things far more logically. Of course the zebra knew. Everypony on the ship knew. Xanadu might have been the newest addition to the crew, but that didn’t mean that nopony would have talked to him by now about the single-most shocking revelation that had come to light in the history of the company.

Though, that did then beg the question: “if you know what could happen, then why are you here?”

“Because I also know that you’ll die if you don’t siphon something from somecreature soon,” Xanadu said, sounding completely nonplussed at the notion.

“So...what? Are you saying you’re room service or something?”

He’d meant it as a joke, going so far as to audibly laugh at the notion. After all, the very idea that a creature would knowing stroll into the den of a hungry changeling for the specific purpose of letting it feed off of them was a completely laughable prospect. The zebra certainly didn’t strike Slipshod as being suicidal.

“That might be the most macabre way I can think of to phrase that, but pretty much, yeah.”

Slipshod wasn’t laughing anymore. The stallion not only turned around to face the zebra, but actually sat up on the bed, staring at the striped stallion in utter bafflement, “...you’re not serious? You...want me to feed off of you?”

“I want you to not die,” Xanadu corrected simply, sounding much more serious than he had since entering Slipshod’s cabin. His expression too was much more somber, yet there was no diminishment of emotional convictions. He was still being forthright and honest with the earth pony, “I don’t want anycreature to die if I can do something about it. Especially if all that I have to do to save them is sit and have a friendly chat,” the zebra was beaming again.

Before he knew what he was doing, the golden stallion was reaching out, both with his physical, as well as psychic, ‘fangs’ that would allow him to latch onto the zebra and start to extract every last iota of feeling from the striped being. Xanadu was sitting there, just so...open. So obvious with his emotions. He was a prime cut of steak tossed in front of a ravenous manticore. By the time Slipshod was done with him, there might very well be just as little left of him as there would be in the case of the manticore.

It was only by some great miracle that the changeling managed to stop himself. For that’s what he was now. His earth pony facade had burned itself away in his hunger, leaving behind the black chitinous monster that he truly was. He fell to the floor, quivering, heaving, saliva rolling out of his mouth in veritable streams. He started shaking his head vehemently, “if I start draining you...I can’t promise I’ll stop,” he insisted ruefully, “you’ll die. Or Breech Block will rush in here and put me down.”

Unbelievably, Xanadu barely seemed to react at all to the transformation. If anything, he only became even more intrigued, “wow...so that’s what a changeling looks like. Neat!

“Somehow I always thought you guys would look more like giant mosquitoes. You know, because of the whole ‘sucking out a creature’s essence’ thing. But the fangs are way cooler than whatever that straw thing mosquitoes have is called. So this looks way better.”

“Weren’t you listening?!” Slipshod snarled, glaring up at the zebra whose mere presence was still taunting his growling stomach, “if I start draining, I won’t stop! I’ll kill you!”

“Then don’t drain,” the zebra said nonchalantly, shrugging, “Twilight said changelings don’t have to take what they need by force. She said you can just accept positive emotions that are offered to you freely. That if you had a friend, you’d be alright.”

Xanadu slipped off of the desk chair and stepped around to lay down beside the trembling changeling. It was almost physically painful to be so near to so much obvious emotion and not feed on it, but Slipshod did everything he could to maintain his composure. The zebra clearly didn’t know what he was getting into. The changeling shook his head vehemently, “leeching off one creature like that won’t be enough for long,” he insisted, “tried it before. I’d need at least a dozen ‘friends’ to be sure I’m not hurting any of them.

“You can’t help me. You can’t save me. At best you’d extend my life a month or so before you started to be severely affected too.”

“Really? A whole month; wow!” the zebra stallion sounded preposterously excited about that for some reason. Slipshod would have been tempted to believe that Xanadu was being facetious, except that there was no hint of any such mocking feelings coming from him. He was still his blatant, forthright self, “that’s more than enough time to help save you.”

“Weren’t you listening?!” Slipshod said through gritted teeth as he continued to struggle to keep his primal urges to feed under control, “I said you can’t help me!”

“No, you said that you need a dozen or so friends,” Xanadu corrected brightly, “and a month is more than enough time to accomplish that!”

“How? Everycreature on the ship’s afraid of me…”

“And creatures are afraid of things that they don’t understand,” the zebra quipped, smiling, “they just don’t understand the ‘new’ you yet. We just need to start introducing them to the real you. Show them that you’re still the same Slipshod they know and care about. Just...not quite as fuzzy anymore.”

“I’m a monster―”

“You’re a changeling,” Xanadu corrected gently, “that’s not the same thing. So you look different. So what? I look different and the crew likes me well enough,” his expression became bemused as he glanced towards the door, “those two kirin mares even asked me back to their cabin so they could ‘count my stripes’. I’m, uh...not sure if they actually meant that how I think they did…but it sure seemed like it?” he looked back at Slipshod, as though seeking confirmation.

The changeling actually managed a snort, “oh, that’s how they meant it alright,” he confirmed, smirking despite himself at the incredulity of the shift in subject. If Xanadu was trying to distract him from his pain by throwing out unexpected topics of conversation...it was working. Somehow, “probably want to film it to send back to their mother,” it seemed that the striped stallion could be shocked. Who knew?

“That came out kinkier than I intended,” Slipshod acknowledged, rolling his eyes, “they’re Confederation nobility and had a, uh…‘falling out’ with their mother before they left. Sending her vids of themselves fooling around with trashy stallions is their way of pissing her off.”

“They think I’m ‘trashy’?” Xanadu actually sounded genuinely hurt by the notion, pouting.

“They don’t,” Slipshod assured the zebra, “but their mother would. Unless you’re hiding a royal pedigree and/or a billion-plus C-bit trust fund?” the striped stallion shook his head, laughing at the absurdity of the notion, “then you’re ‘trash’. Or, at least, too close to ‘trash’ for her daughters to be consorting with.

“It’s a good time though,” the changeling opined, reminiscing on his own prior trist with the twins, “I’d give it some thought.”

“Does their offer come with any sort of suspense date, or―?” the zebra stallion cleared his throat and shook his head, seeming to recognize that they’d drifted off topic, “nevermind. My point was: there are clearly friendly creatures on this ship. Creatures that, from what I understand, liked you well enough before.

“I can’t see any reason why they wouldn’t like you again.”

“I lied to them,” the changeling pointed out, feeling his mood sour once more as they returned to their previously, more dour, topic of conversation, “I hid what I was from them. They’re right to be afraid of changelings. Of what we’ve been doing to this galaxy for centuries.”

“It’s never ‘right’ to blame one creature for the actions of others,” Xanadu said with finality, glaring now at Slipshod, “I’ve asked around. No creature on this crew can think of a single thing that ‘earth pony Slipshod’ ever did that was anything other than friendly. They liked you. A lot.”

“That’s because I tricked them into being my friends,” he spat, ruefully, “I read their emotions and did what I knew would make them like me better so I could feed off of them. I used them.”

“...and?”

The changeling blinked, rightfully stunned by the zebra’s question, “what do you mean: ‘and’? I exploited them. What more is there?”

The zebra started the laugh again, drawing an annoyed look from the changeling. This only seemed to make the zebra laugh even harder. Eventually, when Xanadu finally get himself under control, he wiped a tear from his eye with his hoof and grinned at Slipshod, “I’m sorry, I just think that it’s hilarious that a creature who understands others well enough to ‘trick’ them into becoming friends doesn’t understand how friendships actually work,” when he saw that the changeling continued to favor him with a blank stare, he chortled again and proceeded to explain.

“Friendship’s aren’t one-way streets,” the zebra began, “nocreature with any sense stays in that kind of genuinely parasitic relationship. If the members of this crew continued to welcome you into their company for years, then it was because they were getting something out of it too. Something that they needed. Emotional support, validation, comfort, laughs―something that made spending time with you worthwhile to them.

“No amount of ‘trickery’ is going to get a creature to stay genuinely emotionally invested in another for a prolonged period of time. If they feel like they’re not getting anything out of hanging out with you...then they’ll stop hanging out with you. It’s as simple as that.

“The fact that they didn’t stop during all that time―the fact that so many of the creatures on this crew are genuinely hurt―means that you weren’t ‘using’ any of them. Not in the way that you’re meaning.

“Sure, you slurped some emotional juices, or essence―or however that works with your kind―but they were getting something that they needed out of the arrangement in return. That’s how friendships work. Creature’s are friends because all of the involved parties get their needs satisfied; even if that need is different from creature to creature.

“You’re still you. You’re still perfectly capable of interacting with the members of this crew exactly how you always were,” Xanadu continued on, patting the changeling on the head in a manner that Slipshod would have assumed was patronizing, if he wasn’t feeling the genuine affection that was positively flowing out of the zebra...by choice. It was just...there. For the taking, “we just need to get the others to see that too.”

Slipshod blinked.

Something was different. Missing. It was several long seconds before the changeling recognized that it had been his hunger which was gone. Well, perhaps ‘gone’ was the wrong word. Sated was more apt; for the time being, at least. It would have been a gross exaggeration to say that he was no longer suffering from the effects of starvation. However, it was indeed safe to say that, for the moment, he’d been satisfied enough such that he doubted he’d pose much of a danger to another member of the crew. For a couple days at any rate.

It would take quite a few more ‘full bellies’ before the physiological effects of his starvation were fully abated, but this certainly felt like a promising first step towards recovery. Not that Xanadu would be able to accomplish it on his own. Slipshod could already see that the zebra stallion’s features were looking significantly more drawn than he had been when he’d first arrived. Like the striped stallion had been awake for days. It’d be risky to take this much from him again.

What was more, the zebra actually seemed to be fully aware of what had happened. He stifled a yawn and stretched out his joints, “so how was that; feeling better? Woof! Feel like I ran a marathon…” he rubbed at his eyes then feigned checking over his limbs for signs of injury, “not husked though,” he remarked with a wink at the changeling.

“You...you tricked me,” Slipshod wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be offended or impressed that he’d somehow been manipulated by the zebra.

“Nonsense,” Xanadu said with a dismissive wave of his hoof, “I befriended you. You got something out of this that you needed, and so did I,” the zebra moved to stand up, but managed to sway enough that had to reach for the bed to steady himself. Slipshod was on his own hooves quickly, reaching out a chitinous hoof to help the zebra. Xanadu graciously accepted the aid, smiling tiredly at the changeling, “thanks. Make that two marathons; wow,” he shook himself forcefully in an effort to wake himself up, his smile never wavering.

“What could you possibly have gotten from this except halfway to comatose?” Slipshod scoffed.

Xanadu beamed at the changeling, “the satisfaction of helping a creature in trouble.”

He meant it too; that was the most absurd part. It left Slipshod speechless, actually. The zebra took a deep breath, tested his balance, and seemed to find it satisfactory. He took a step towards the door, “I think my work here is done for now.

“Oh, before I forget,” Xanadu said, pausing at the door for a moment, “a mare invited me to her place―strawberry coat, unicorn, I think her name was a tool of some sort? Don’t remember―she said she’s watching an old ‘Kaufmane Movie’: Sgt Kabukimare New Yak P.D.? She told me I could bring a friend―”

Slipshod was already sensing where the conversation was heading and started shaking his head, “she didn’t mean me,” he assured the zebra.

“I’m pretty sure she did,” the striped stallion said, his grin never wavering, “seeing as how I dropped your name and she didn’t say ‘no’,” Slipshod was stunned into silence, gaping at the zebra, “what she did say, was that you’d be the best pony on the ship to teach me the ‘fine art of riffing’. It turns out I have no idea what that means. My initial assumption was, uh...shall we say: ‘off the mark’,” he admitted, clearing his throat as he blushed in mild embarrassment, “but what she told me it really is sounds fun too!

“So what do you say? Thursday night? I think I can clear getting out of your quarters with Squelch.”

“I…” Slipshod found himself struggling to come up with the right answer for some reason. He was still so taken aback that Channel Lock wasn’t opposed to seeing him again. She’d looked so terrified of him when he’d passed her in the corridor earlier.

What had changed since then?

“Well, that’s not a ‘no’, so I’ll tell her we’ll be there. Pick you up at eight!” the zebra opened the door and left without another word, leaving the stunned changeling behind to process what had just happened.

The next morning saw something very unexpected happen: Slipshod’s lockdown was lifted.

“Why?” the changeling asked, unable to hide how bewildered he’d been by the announcement from his former employer. Squelch had dropped by to deliver the news to him directly, which, truth be told, actually made Slipshod a little uncomfortable. He wasn’t quite sure where the two of them stood anymore.

Their relationship had been something of a quagmire ever since the divorce, this was true, but even then there’d still been the professional respect that they’d had for each other as ‘Steed pilot and Commander. Yet, that relationship no longer existed now either. The sage green unicorn mare retained her position as the owner of the mercenary company―if under a different name now―but Slipshod was no longer one of her hired pilots. He was just her means to establishing a relationship with Victoria Blueblood.

He wasn’t sure what that made them to one another anymore. It certainly wouldn’t have occurred to him that it might help to lower her suspicion of him.

“Because my stereotypical obligatory condemnations as your ex aside, I don’t actually want you to die; in a fire or otherwise,” Squelch quipped at the confounded earth pony, “Twilight explained how isolating a changeling like this is basically no different than starving them to death.

“Obviously, I can’t make the other creatures on this ship interact with you―that’s going to be on you to mend those fences―but I can give you the chance to repair the damage.

“I’ve spent the last month reviewing every memory I have of you and your time with the Coursers,” the mare went on, smiling ruefully at the other pony, “mostly to try and find something that I could use to justify despising you for hiding what you were. And while there’s a lot that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive you for personally, that’s between you and me to work out.

“I don’t have the right to dictate your interactions with the rest of the crew. How they feel about you is their business, and it’s for you to work out with them whether there’s forgiveness warranted there. Keeping you isolated like this denies you that opportunity, which isn’t right.”

“Aren’t you worried that I’ll betray our plan?” He was a changeling. A threat. An agent of the very forces that were causing every other race in the galaxy so much suffering. It didn’t make any sense for Squelch to risk so much on his behalf like this.

“You helped us escape from one changeling trap already,” the unicorn pointed out, “and while I’m sure there are ponies out there who would try to argue it was all part of some masterstroke four-dimensional chess double-blind play or whatever,” she said, rolling her eyes in clear doubt of the reality of such a sequence of events, “I don’t have the patience to engage in that level of paranoia.

“You saved our lives. In my book, that earns even no-good-cheating-bastards a little bit of leeway,” she flashed a wry smirk at the stallion.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some research to get back to,” Squelch turned to leave.

“Squelch?” Slipshod ventured, causing the sage mare to pause in the doorway and look back at him over her shoulder expectantly. The golden earth pony chewed his lip as he sought out the words that he wanted to say. A lot of things popped into his head as far as what the ‘right’ things would have been for a situation like this. The sorts of apologies that would play on her feelings and their history together in order to manipulate her opinion of him. The sorts of assurances that would help to further alleviate any lingering concerns that she might have.

Reading her emotional state, it was clear to him that, despite her statements to the contrary, she was still holding on to some reservations where he was concerned. Likely, she was feeling pressured by Twilight to do this, and might have chosen differently if it had been entirely her own decision. The changeling wondered what Cinder’s opinion was on his release from confinement, if she’d even been consulted at all on the matter.

There were quite a few things that he could have said in order to improve his position by exploiting his abilities.

But Slipshod ultimately refrained from doing so, despite his initial instincts which had been honed over the years of training and survival. His circumstances had changed. He’d been outed as a changeling. Any lie he was caught in would be compounded by the suspicion that every other creature on the ship would already be viewing him with. It’d undermine his efforts to try and rebuild his relationships with the crew, and thus his survival. In a stark reversal to how he’d been having to live his life as ‘Slipshod the earth pony’, ‘Slipshod the changeling’ would be best served by the truth.

So he didn’t deliver any of the multitude of lines to Squelch that he might have a year ago. Instead, he was honest with her, “if I had it to do all over again, I wouldn’t have manipulated you into marrying me. I didn't understand how dangerous it would be for you. I’m sorry about that.”

His former employer remained in the open doorway for several long moments, staring at him as she digested his words. Then, “I notice that’s not quite the same thing as saying: ‘I’m sorry I used you’,” the mare pointed out, earning a wry smirk from the changeling.

“No, it’s not,” he acknowledged, “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” the stallion clarified, “but I definitely did mean to ‘use’ you.”

The narrowed eyes of the sage unicorn were accompanied by a slight spike in animosity, which was to be expected. However, Slipshod was also able to feel the grudging respect that the mare felt for his blunt honesty. Finally, she issued a rueful snort and shook her head, “typical. While you’re being so candid, there is one thing I do want to know though,” Slipshod raised a brow, inviting her to ask her question, “why me? If you’re really so good at reading ponies, you could have wormed your way into anypony’s life. Why mine?”

That was a fair question, the changeling supposed. It deserved a fair answer too, “two reasons: first, you were in charge. Obviously, being married to the boss comes with a lot of perks. I did go from being your newest pilot to being your lead pilot in no time at all,” he pointed out. This response earned him another pointed glare from the unicorn, who obviously did not appreciate having been so brazenly exploited like she’d apparently been. However, his followup disarmed some of her ire, and left her feeling a lot more conflicted than he suspected she’d anticipated being about the whole thing.

“...and, well, you ‘tasted’ the best,” Slipshod said, shrugging his shoulders as he sought to elaborate, “your passion for the Coursers and the challenge of managing them was...intoxicating. Changelings don’t need the feelings of love we feed on to be directed explicitly at us. Blood Chit’s love for his coltfriend back home, Channel Lock’s love for her brother, Rigger Brush’s love for her art...it’s the intensity and the purity of the feeling that matters, not specifically what or who it’s directed at.

“It doesn’t take an empath to see how important the Steel Coursers are to you, or how much effort you put into managing them. This company is...your ‘baby’, in a very real way. And, you ‘loved’ it as much as any mother would love her foal. I wanted to be around that as much as possible.”

By the time he was done explaining, Squelch was gaping at him in shock. She quickly realized that she’d let her self-control fall by the wayside during the very candid explanation, and closed her mouth with an audible ‘click’, clearing her throat as she sought to hide her blushing cheeks, “you didn’t need to make that sound quite so weird,” she insisted, trying her best to sound annoyed through her embarrassment. It wasn’t working very well, and the changeling couldn’t help but grin as he sensed how flattered she was feeling.

Slipshod noted that he’d been hard-pressed to get this sort of reaction from the unicorn when he’d first started flirting with her after being hired into the company. Maybe there was something to this whole ‘honesty’ thing after all…

“Just try and stay out of trouble, alright?” Squelch said, finally managing to recompose herself fully before heading out into the corridor.

Slipshod endeavoured to do his best to do just that by not pressing his luck too much initially. There was still an uneasy miasma of emotion hanging around the DropShip, especially whenever he walked by. It would have been the height of hubris to think that he was the sole cause of the unease though. There was plenty else going on that had the crew on edge. Such as learning the true nature of ComSpark, and that they were part of a mission that would lay the foundation for undoing all the harm that had been inflicted upon the galaxy.

That was a much taller order than the company’s typical ‘smaller view’ of things. Galactic politics and massive threats weren’t what any of the crew had signed up for, after all. They’d joined up to earn a living undertaking low-level mercenary contracts. Helping to liberate the Harmony Sphere from the changelings was a bit over their heads.

For most, they seemed to be coping by putting all of that ‘big picture’ stuff aside and determining to focus squarely on their usual duty tasks. This was easier for some than most, of course. Like Cookie. His primary job was to prepare meals for the crew. This was the case whether they were doing little mercenary contracts, or acting as the expeditionary force for the League-in-Exile. The border politics didn’t matter to him one bit, just as long as Squelch parked the ship at a dock often enough for him to restock the pantry.

Then you had ponies like High Gain, who had a front-row seat to the broader goings-on for their new mission. Part of her job, as the outfit’s chief communications technician, was to specifically scrub through traffic and transmission logs to look for clues about the whereabouts of Victoria’s alias, as well as any hints that their newly-minted mercenary company had been found out by changeling agents, despite the near impossibility. She’d effectively been shoe-horned into a counterintelligence role that the glorified receptionist had neither signed up for, nor had she ever been formally trained on how to do it.

Cinder was helping her to sift through what were and were not pertinent findings, but it was still a job that she wasn’t experienced with, and one for which the consequences for failure were admittedly quite dire. If she screwed up bad enough, a lot of creatures that she cared about to end up very badly hurt. Or worse.

To say that she was feeling overwhelmed was an understatement.

Slipshod honestly debated whether or not he should stop by the galley when he saw her sitting there on his way by, puzzling over a datapad. On the one hoof, he could feel how stressed out the earth pony mare already was, and didn’t want to add to it by confronting her with the ship’s resident ‘monster’. Yet, at the same time, he didn’t particularly enjoy seeing anypony in that state. A very cynical part of his brain pondered whether his desire to ease the discomfort of other creatures was actually a sign of any sort of altruistic empathy on his part.

After all, strong emotions tended to affect the overall ‘flavor’ of the ship. Particularly unpleasant emotions, such as fear and worry, soured what could otherwise be pleasant meals. A better dining experience for the changeling required that as much of the crew as possible be in good spirits. Helping out High Gain was really just helping himself. Hardly a sign that he felt any sort of compassion for the creatures on the ship. He was just ‘weeding the garden’, so to speak.

Yet, at the same time…

“Hey.”

Slipshod metally facehoofed. A changeling. An empath. A master manipulator who could shape the flow of another’s mental state with the right inflection on the right words. But the best he had managed was the same awkward ‘hey’ that a colt might have come up with the first time he worked up the courage to speak to a filly he fancied.

Obviously he was a lot more stressed out than he’d realized.

As painfully lackluster a prompt as the single word might have been from an objective standpoint, there was no denying that it had served it’s ostensive purpose of attracting the mare’s attention. She looked up from whatever she’d been reading and peered over her shoulder. Slipshod winced slightly at the sudden surge of apprehension―and even a mote of fear―from the comm tech, but noted that High Gain quickly set about stamping those feelings out on her own accord.

Soon, she was merely feeling ‘conflicted’, as far as the stallion could tell. The familiar sensations of the warm fondness that he was used to getting from High Gain were there―deep below the surface―but they were overshadowed by confusion. Like she wasn’t sure how she was ‘obligated’ to feel about her long-time comrade who’d turned out to be nothing at all like she and every other member of the crew had always assumed.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all, “...I can go away if you’d like?” the changeling offered. He wasn’t going to be able to smooth out her frayed nerves if his mere presence was just putting her more on edge.

Unexpectedly, the offer to remove himself from her presence actually provoked another brief surge in negativity. Though, this time it was directed inwardly, “...they said you can sense how other ponies feel,” she said hesitantly, as though worried that she was going to provoke the monster standing behind her. More anguish and resentment, but again not appearing to be focused on him, “I’m sorry I’m nervous. I’m just…”

She struggled to find the words she wanted to use to express her emotional state, which to Slipshod felt like it was shifting unpredictably between variations of fear, shame, and loss. Considering it was starting to give him a headache, the changeling could only imagine what it was doing to the owner of those thoughts, “―it’s just that you’re not sure where we stand anymore,” he finished for her, sparing the mare from trying to seek out the properly delicate way to phrase how she was feeling.

High Gain smiled sadly at the golden earth pony, “pretty much, yeah. And then there’s our new mission,” she said, visibly deflating, her eyes darting back to the datapad that she’d been reviewing, “there’s just so much information to look over…” she shook her head, resigned.

“It’s not just you though, is it? Squelch had to have given you some help…”

The mare nodded, though she didn’t look to be any less overwhelmed, “that dragoness, Pur―uh, Twilight, Doppler, and a couple others,” she reached over and picked up the pad, waving it in the stallion’s direction, “this is just my share. Minos Air Traffic comm logs carrying MRB coding.

“We know that the Crimson Corsairs operate in the area, but we don’t know where they have their base at. Predictably, a pretender to the archonship in hiding doesn’t make that information very public,” she frowned at the pad, as though it was responsible for withholding the information from her.

“In fairness, most outfits that size try not to advertise the location of their headquarters, regardless of their political status,” Slipshod pointed out. Which was true. There was something of a ‘sweet spot’ with mercenary outfits when it came to how public they were about their activities. Mercenary units were competing companies, just like any of the corporations that they frequently hired themselves out to. One tried and true method of securing more work―and thus more profits―was to reduce local competition.

It wasn’t too unusual for one mercenary company to attack another, even without an explicit contract in place. If you couldn’t protect yourself from another group of mercenaries, then it was taken as a sign that you were too weak to have likely lasted much longer in the industry anyway.

Small companies like the Steel Coursers―or, Rayleigh’s Irregulars, he reminded himself―that could contain all of their resources on a single ship were hard targets, since they could pack up and move at the drop of a hat. They also were rarely serious competition for the juicier contracts anyway, and so were typically not worth the trouble of wiping out.

On the other side of the spectrum were mercenary outfits on the scale of the Grey Lines Legion or the Nirik Light Pony. Those weren’t ‘companies’, they were bona fide armies in their own right, with enough firepower to rival the standing militaries of the Great Houses. You didn’t mess with them unless you were also on their level.

Then you had the groups that fell in between―like the Crimson Corsairs. Outfits that fielded perhaps a couple dozen BattleSteeds of various sizes, allowing them to undertake a wide variety of mission profiles, but also requiring them to maintain a physical base on a planet somewhere. These were often kept hidden or out of the way as much as possible in order to safeguard their assets while the bulk of their forces were away on a contract.

While Squelch could hypothetically reach out to Victoria through official Mercenary Review Board and ComSpark channels, that would leave a record. Obviously, there was a lot that they intended to discuss that they didn’t want Chrysalis getting wind of, and that meant that any HyperSpark transmissions of any kind were completely off the table. They needed to speak directly with one another, and that meant either running into the Corsairs while they were out and about on a job―and most ponies weren’t very chatty while they were on the clock―or learning where Victoria’s outfit roosted.

Neither was likely to be particularly easy to do, given the constraints that they were operating under for the sake of secrecy.

“Yeah, I know. Still frustrating,” she grunted, tossing the datapad back onto the table.

“Have you looked at average mission response times?” He asked. High Gain looked at him in confusion, so he elaborated, “they probably only have the one base,” Slipshod began, “so they’ll always deploy from one location. Compare contract acceptance dates with logged arrival times in the designated systems, and you should be able to get any idea of how many jumps they needed to make to get there.

“With enough of those kinds of examples, you should be able to narrow the possible candidates to just a few systems. Maybe not as good as giving Squelch an exact latitude and longitude on a specific planet,” he acknowledged with a wry smirk, “but it’s a lot better than what we’re working from now. And peeking into three or four systems won’t take a massive amount of time if that’s all you can whittle it down to.”

High Gain blinked, perking up in her seat. Slipshod felt the first stirrings of excitement from inside the mare, “...yeah. Yeah! That...that just might work! Thanks, Slip!”

Before either of them knew it, the mare had jumped out of her seat and was giving him a tight hug. Then the mare realized what she was doing and quickly recioled, as if she’d been burned. High Gain looked at her hooves, examining them intently; though, for what, Slipshod couldn’t quite guess. At least, not at first. Then he sighed and smiled wanly at the other earth pony, “relax, I didn’t suck out your soul, or whatever,” he assured her, trying his best not to sound as bitter as the implication made him feel.

To the mare’s credit, she started projecting an appropriately ashamed reaction to the changeling’s words, “I’m sorry,” she blurted, “it’s just...you’re a...you know.”

“I know,” he sighed, “but that’s not how it works,” he said, delighted that he hadn’t sounded the least bit scolding. It wasn’t High Gain’s fault that she didn’t understand what changelings were or how they functioned, “I’m just like I’ve always been, and you’ve never hurt yourself touching me before, right?”

“Right…” she admitted, obviously quite embarrassed now. The comm tech fidgeted for a few more seconds, biting her lip, before hesitantly asking, “so...how does it work?”

Slipshod rubbed his chin, coming up with what felt like an appropriate comparison that she’d be able to easily understand, “it’s like being a plant,” he explained, earning a skeptical look from the mare, which prompted him to chuckle, “no, really. Changelings take in emotions like trees take in sunlight. If it’s around us, being actively projected, we can just absorb it as we need it.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” High Gain noted, frowning now, “so then why are they so scary, to the point that the Disciples or whoever were willing to kill Flechette to capture you?”

Slipshod sighed, wincing slightly at the memory of the pegasus being gunned down right in front of him, trying to mistakenly protect a monster from its ancient victims, “...when there’s not enough love and positively just being projected about to sustain us, we can...take it. By force,” now the mare was looking appropriately horrified. That was how she should be reacting to his kind, and to him, “the results are...bad.”

“Oh,” High Gain receded even further away from him now, eyeing the stallion cautiously, “...have you ever…?”

He’d met the real Slipshod. Long ago. Just the one time.

‘Husking’ another creature was...disconcerting, even for him. The fear in the victim was so strong at first, as they predictably reacted the way that prey does when confronted with a predator. Then, gradually, that guttural response to having their very life threatened begins to wane as their passion is sucked out of them. Their passion for everything. Their dreams, their aspirations, their love for their friends and family. The simple little pleasures that they get from mundane trivialities in life, like the way a sky might take on an odd coloring when the weather is just right. Even their very passion for their next breath.

It all goes away.

Until all that’s left is...nothing. Yet, they’re not quite a corpse yet. Their heart beats, their lungs take in air. The autonomic functions of their bodies enduring at the behest of their brainstem, uninterested in what’s become of their conscious selves. Clinically, they are ‘alive’, as might be measured by any medical device or physician. Any mundane creature might not really notice anything odd about them at all, save that the victim looks a little lethargic.

But for an empath, it’s deeply eerie. To changelings, the husked creature was simultaneously alive and dead. A form of ‘zombification’, in a way.

A changeling senses the creatures around them as much by their emotions as they do by sight, scent, and sound. A completely husked creature doesn’t register with their sixth sense though. As far as a changeling can ‘feel’, there’s nothing there. Yet they can see a ‘thing’ that is obviously supposed to be a creature. It messes with a changeling a little bit, actually, playing havoc with their minds as they try to reconcile receiving ‘contradictory’ information about the world around them.

It would be like a pony who was hallucinating. Seeing an apparition that couldn’t be heard, or smelled, or touched, and yet was also fully visible.

Husked creatures never died of natural causes. They were killed. Quickly. Reflexively. As the changeling’s mind demanded that the world be made ‘right’ and that all of the ‘ling’s senses achieve consensus on the perceived creatures ‘state’ of life. Since the changeling wasn’t about to return the emotions that they’d just stolen away, that left only the one possible ‘reconciliation’.

“Not since leaving Equus,” was all that Slipshod could bring himself to say.

There was a momentary dread that flashed through High Gain...only for it to pass. The stallion very nearly visibly balked. Had the comms tech just...overlooked the fact that he’d admitted to effectively killing creatures by draining them of their emotional essence? Was she out of her mind?!

As though hearing his thoughts―or more likely because she’d seen his face and simply inferred his thought process, the mare offered up a sad smile, “I guess it’s stupid to hold killing another creature against you. You’re a ‘Steed pilot. You’ve killed lots of creatures since signing on with the Coursers.”

Slipshod was already shaking his head, “that’s not the same,” he protested, “in combat―”

High Gain was frowning now, “that doesn’t magically justify it, Slip,” she said sternly, “you don’t get to claim: ‘I was just defending myself’ on the jobs we take, as though you never wanted to be put in that kind of position.

“Nopony on this ship is that naive. It’s not like Squelch only volunteers us to defend orphanages and hospitals,” she pointed out, “we’re the aggressors as often as we’re not. It’s not ‘self-defense’ when you specifically seek out the fight!

“But I’m not going to call what we do ‘murder’ either,” she conceded, “it’s...just how things are out here,” the mare shrugged, sounding a little resigned and offering up a sardonic smile, “it’s the life we have. And I bet when you drained whoever it was that you did―however many of them you did―that was ‘just how things were’ too. Doesn’t make it right; doesn’t make it wrong.

“It just...makes it what it is.”

Slipshod imagined that Twilight would have had quite a bit to say in opposition to High Gain’s claims if the alicorn had been present, “you can’t possibly think what I do in the Coursers and what I did on Equus are in any way comparable?”

“We’re mercenaries, Slip,” High Gain reiterated sardonically, “not every creature we kill out here is some ruthless pirate. Most of them are creatures just like us, with friends and family who love and care about them, who are just trying to do a job to put C-bits on the table and make their way in the world.

“In order for me to think of what we do as anything close to ‘righteous’, I’d also have to think of myself as somepony who deserves to die for what she’s been a part of. Obviously, I don’t think that about myself―or any of my friends on this ship. So I can’t think of the creatures you’re out there fighting as being like that either.

“And I don’t think of you like that.”

Slipshod remained silent as he processed what the comms technician had said. He wasn’t sure exactly how much stock he was supposed to put in it, honestly. It felt...too easy, in a way. That he should be given a ‘pass’ for everything that he’d done as a changeling.

Yet, at the same time, it was hard to discount her words out of hoof. She had a point after all: he’d killed far more creatures as a BattleSteed pilot than he’d ever husked as a changeling. Hundreds―maybe even thousands―of creatures had lost their lives to his guns in the last couple of years. The earth pony did some hasty tallying, estimating crew compliments of three to as many as six for each combat vehicle, and he’d certainly blown up hundreds of those during even his brief career.

Valkyrie had killed her share too, he knew.

He didn’t consider his former lancemate to have been any sort of reprehensible monster.

Maybe High Gain had a point after all. Although, “but you’re still afraid of me,” Slipshod pointed out.

The mare winced, kneading her hooves as she acknowledged the observation, “I mean...you’re basically like a dopple from those old vids, right? Can’t blame a mare for being a little on edge around one of them.

“I guess it’s just that, every time I look at you, I keep picturing you looking like the creatures from the movies,” she thought for a moment, “are they what you look like for real?”

Slipshod thought back over the series of movies that the mare was referencing, and found himself rolling his eyes. While ‘dopples’ had been used as a means of obfuscating the existence of changelings on the rare occasion that somecreature tried to get word out about them, quite a few ‘liberties’ had been taken regarding their appearance and abilities when compared to real changelings. After all, the more fantastical and otherworldly that dopples felt like, the less likely it was that any rational being would believe that anything like them could actually exist.

“No,” he assured her, “I only have two eyes. There’s no slightly smaller mouth inside of my actual mouth, and we don’t lay our eggs inside other ponies.”

“Oh. Well...that’s good,” High Gain let out a chuckle that sounded a lot more embarrassed than it did nervous. At the same time, Slipshod could feel that the mare was genuinely a lot less wary about his proximity. The changeling wondered just how much of the crew’s apprehension had to do with the artistic licensing of a many decades old movie series…

“Anyway, thanks again for your help,” the comms tech said, reaching over to scoop up her datapad, “I’ll go back into the system’s records and see what I can piece together using the data. Hopefully I can narrow it down to just a couple systems, but we’ll have to see.

“You’re coming by our quarters tonight, right? Channel Lock mentioned that you and the new pilot were going to be watching a movie,” Slipshod nodded, “cool. I’ll, uh...I’ll try to drop by too. See you tonight, Slip,” the mare smiled, before slipping out of the galley.

The changeling stared after her, still mulling over what she’d said to him regarding how ‘monsterous’ he actually was from her point of view. He couldn’t necessarily deny any of the points that she’d made. But...was he really ready to accept that he wasn’t nearly as different from the rest of the crew as he’d always thought of himself as being?

Certainly, it was worth giving further thought to later.

“Come in!”

The door opened a second later, exposing the interior of the slightly more cramped quarters that were reserved for the regular members of the Galloway-turned-Zathura’s crew. Slipshod once more immediately appreciated the advantages that came with being a ‘Steed pilot on Squelch’s payroll. The quarters were made slightly more cramped by the fact that two other equines would be squeezing themselves into it, in addition to the pair of mares who normally inhabited the space.

The lower bunk was going to be quite ‘cozy’, that was for sure.

Xanadu was already present, and had apparently stopped by the galley on his way here and picked up a collection of snacks and drinks. Slipshod wasn’t sure if the striped stallion simply didn’t know how ‘movie nights’ worked, or if zebras had different customs when it came to such things, because there wasn’t any sign of popcorn whatsoever. There was an expansive vegetable platter though that looked like it was half aubergines.

The nascent pilot flashed a grin at the changeling, “hey, you made it! We were just about to start the movie,” he sidled over on the lower bunk, making as much space as possible between him and Channel Lock for Slipshod to fit into. The strawberry maintenance tech was mustering up her own smile and endeavoring to make it as inviting as possible. In her defense, she wasn’t putting off nearly the intensity of nervousness as she had the other day. The reassuring hoof pat that the unicorn mare was receiving from her bunkmate suggested that High Gain had already had a talk with her about Slipshod’s nature and her own views on the matter.

“Sorry I got held up,” the golden earth pony apologized, reaching around and flipping open the flap of the satchel he had slung over his withers, “had to get some ingredients for refreshments. Anypony up for a Salty Diamond Dog?”

“Ooh; me!” High Gain’s hoof instantly shot up.

The door to the cabin closed and Slipshod set about unpacking the collection of bottles that he’d procured from Cookie. He had enough liquor and other additives to make a far selection of drinks actually. Channel Lock requested a Brown Derpy, and Xanadu took a Palomino. Slipshod settled for using the bottle of Appaloosa Estates that had mercifully not been tossed out the airlock in the aftermath of his outing to make himself a Highball.

Refreshments in hooves, and snacks close by, it was time to start the evening’s entertainment. As Channel Lock did the honors by starting the vid, their zebra companion posed a question, “what exactly is a ‘kabukimare’, anyway?”

“Absolutely nothing like what you’re going to see in this movie, trust me,” Slipshod informed him with a grin.

The unicorn tech next to him nodded in agreement, snorting in amusement, “we should have invited the twins. I’m curious to see if they’d have been more amused or offended by what we’re about to see.”

“Oh, definitely amused,” the changeling assured her, grinning, “they hate classical kirin theater.”

“Should we be hushing down now?” Xanadu asked, gesturing to the screen where the movie seemed to have progressed almost immediately into a scene that was establishing the plot.

“On the contrary,” Slipshod smiled at the other stallion, “part of the fun is going to be talking over what’s happening on the screen.”

“That stallion’s hoof is on fire,” the other ‘Steed pilot deadpanned, pointing at the display, his eyes wide in shock, “why is that stallion’s hoof on fire?”

“So that we know that all of the cliche stuff about prophecy and doom the mare is talking about is important,” Channel Lock responded in an almost disinterested tone.

“Oh. Wait...now we’re in a city? Are those two stallions doing glitterdust off the back of that wagon? I thought that stuff was illegal in most of the Sphere?”

“It is,” High Gain assured him.

“...but they’re just doing it in public. And nopony else seems to care,” there was a brief pause, “and I don’t think they’re even actually doing it right.”

“That’s because those actors aren’t getting paid enough to snort enriched flour,” Slipshod said, grinning, “ironically, I bet they actually would have snorted real glitterdust.”

“Okay...wait, what do those foals have to do with the last scene? What is even happening in this movie,” Xanadu frowned, glancing over at the other three, “this makes sense to you?”

“Are you kidding?” Channel Lock snorted, “part of the fun is that it doesn’t make sense,” she looked over at the zebra, “and it’s only going to get more nonsensical from here on out,” she gestured at the screen, where a stallion and mare were now visible rutting on a bed in detail graphic enough to arguably classify this vid into a completely different genre.

“Oh!” the striped stallion’s eyes widened in mild surprise, before narrowing at the screen, “are they in that position explicitly so that her teets are flashing that camera―who’s that and why does he have a bloody sword?!”

“Coitus interruptus,” Slipshod murmured, prompting him and the pair of mares to all take a sip from their respective drinks. A moment later the mare on screen screamed as her lover was impaled through the gut in a jarringly awkward transition sequence. The earth pony looked over and smiled at Xanadu, “ready to see a truly ‘break-out’ performance?”

The zebra looked back at the display just in time to see another jarring rapid-fire sequence of scene transitions that ended with the mare being hurled naked out of the window of a highrise, “what in the―?!”

“I gave up being a waitress for thisssss!” Slipshod intoned, affecting as though he were making the exclamation while falling from a great height.

A second later, High Gain chimed in just as the actress ‘fell’ upon one of the drug-using stallions from earlier―apparently from the side despite supposedly being thrown from above, “it’s raining mares~! Hallelujah, it’s raining mares~!”

Channel Lock, however, was looking squarely at Slipshod, her eyes wide. It was enough to distract the changeling from the next joke that he’d been about to make, as he found himself wondering if he’d perhaps said something wrong, “what?”

“How did you do that?”

“Do...what?”

The unicorn mare reached over and paused the movie, which drew the attention of the other two to their exchange, “you sounded exactly like a mare just now!”

Slipshod blinked, “did I? Huh. I guess I did,” he typically didn’t truly lend himself to doing perfect impersonations when riffing on these films, but it wasn’t like he was feeling a lot of pressure to hide his changeling nature anymore.

“You can do that?!”

“I’m a changeling,” the stallion pointed out, “I can look or sound like anycreature I’ve seen and heard. That’s kind of our thing. I’ll stop.”

“Stop? Are you kidding?” the unicorn sputtered, “do you have any idea what we’ve been missing out on because you’ve been keeping this to yourself?!

“Screw riffing!” the technician exclaimed as she reset the movie, only this time she muted the volume as well, “you’re going to redub this thing for us!”

Slipshod’s first instinct was to protest. However, upon getting a whiff of the excitement wafting off of both mares, the changeling was inclined to accommodate Channel Lock’s request. He did his best to ignore Xanadu’s smug expression as the stallion refocused his attention on the now silent movie and began to imitate the voices of the characters on screen, but using his own original dialogue that made light of the events happening around them.

Maybe it was the chance to ‘stretch’ his changeling abilities in a way that he never got the chance to before. Maybe it was the mixture of mirth and excitement that the other three were all feeling every time he made a new joke at the movie’s expense in an exaggerated voice he manufactured for the character on the screen he was dubbing for. Maybe it was the opportunity to forget every otherwise stressful facet of his life.
Whatever the reason; that movie night was the best, and the most filling, that Slipshod could ever remember having.

Thank you so much for reading! As always, a thumbs up and comment are always greatly appreciated

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