“C-bit for your thoughts?”

Slipshod glanced over his shoulder from where he’d been perched atop his Crystal Cavalier, staring out at the planet below that was visible through the window set into the bay door. He’d been there for about the last hour or so, ever since he and the other pilots had been placed on an alert status following Victoria’s departure for the palace complex on the Commonwealth's capital world of Hackamore. They hadn’t gone down with the rest of the Crimson Corsairs, as it was deemed that showing up with mercenary forces―while not something that would have been seen as uncommon―had the potential to undermine the validity of her claim.

Victoria Blueblood was here to obtain the archonship using her own cunning and martial might, and didn’t want to look like she had ‘bought’ the title with soldiers of fortune. So, neither the Timberwolves, nor Rayleigh’s Irregulars were going to be part of the assault itself. However, they would still be available in the event that the situation went sour and it started to look like Victoria might actually lose the fight. If that happened, then every mercenary in orbit would be dispatched to the fight in order to ensure that the side the League-in-Exile ‘needed’ to win, did so.

Even if the optics of such a dubious ‘victory’ might not have been optimal, Twilight’s plan for the invasion of Equus couldn’t be allowed to take a backseat to Victoria’s pride. Ultimately, they didn’t require her hold of the throne to be absolute or unquestioned. As long as she retained control long enough to guarantee the safe passage of the invasion force through Commonwealth space, that was what truly mattered.

And so, Slipshod and the others found themselves waiting for a call that each of them kind of hoped wouldn’t come. Long-term, it was better if Victoria won this fight on her own.

The changeling smiled at his employer, noting that the unicorn mare was also wearing most of a pressure suit, save for the helmet, which was probably back on the bridge. If they were called in, it would only be because the enemy was present in near-overwhelming force, after all. That meant that the Zathura would undoubtedly take some hits while going in for a deployment, and there was every likelihood that the DropShip wouldn’t be spaceworthy by the time it was leaving the drop zone.

“Just feeling a little anxious, I guess,” the stallion admitted, turning away from the viewport and arranging himself a little more comfortably on the top of his ‘Steed as he spoke with the unicorn, “feels weird to know that there’s a really important battle going on and not be a part of it.”

Squelch smiled and shrugged, “that’s the mercenary's lot,” she said matter-of-factly, “we fight the battles that our clients tell us to. Personally, I’m not too bothered by it. I get paid whether we fight or not, so I’d just as soon not.

“I figured that the three of you would feel the same way,” she eyed the earth pony curiously.

“Hey, don’t get me wrong; I’m just as happy to not be getting shot up as the next pony,” he assured the sage mare with a grin, “I’m just saying that it feels a little weird is all. We came all this way, and there’s a really big battle going on, and for once I’m not in the middle of it.

“That’s not usually how things work.”

“Well, I encourage you to enjoy this little ‘vacation’ while it lasts, because something tells me that they’re going to need all hooves on deck for the fight in Faust,” her tone was considerably more sober now, and Slipshod could understand why. He may not have known exact numbers regarding the capital system’s defenses, but the estimates that he could reliably give still left a lot to be desired. If anything, he’d done his best to exaggerate those numbers so that they could be overprepared.

At least, he hoped that he’d managed to exaggerate them. Slipshod knew that there was a second fleet of WarShips on standby near the Faust System, but that was it. He’d never been in a position to see the rundown of its composition, and was just sort of assuming that it approximately matched the size of the fleet orbiting Equus.

“Yeah,” he agreed, his own features turning a little more grim as he considered the prospect of dropping into Canterlot and facing down its defensive batteries. The quality of the technology that Chrysalis had managed to cling to while the rest of the Harmony Sphere lost access to it didn’t quite match up to what the Clans had developed perhaps, but it would still be formidable. The changeling queen had spent centuries fortifying her new throne, driven by the paranoia of losing it to outside forces as she had so many times before. This time, she was resolved to hold onto her kingdom.

Digging her out would be...a challenge, to say the least.

“I have to admit,” the stallion said, now eyeing the unicorn with his own inquisitive expression, “I’m a little surprised that you’re willing to go along with all of this,” the mare frowned, raising a confused brow in his direction, so the earth pony added a clarification, “the invasion of Equus, I mean. I know you’re being offered a lot of money and all, but this is going to be the highest-risk job we’ve ever taken. There’s a very real chance we’ll all be killed―and I don’t just mean us ‘Steed pilots. There’re WarShips there that make even the Rockhoof look like a system patrol craft.

“You saw the wreck of that Strongheart we found Twilight in. That was just a glancing blow from a naval gun. If something like that hits the Zathura, vac-suits aren’t going to help anypony,” he pointed out, “is the money really worth it?”

“That money’s all I have to look forward to,” Squelch said, her tone sounding just a little despondent, and her emotions souring, “when this is over, and if Twilight wins and kicks out Chrysalis...all of this,” she waved a hoof at their surroundings, “it all goes away.

“The galaxy she wants to build won’t have a place for mercenaries in it. Eventually,” she acknowledged with a wry smirk, “even she’s not naive enough to think that things’ll change overnight. But I need to keep my sights set on the big picture. Work’s going to dry up as more systems fall in line and flock to the new League that’s going to pop up.

“That means making sure that I―and the rest of the crew―have our retirements secured before that happens. Sure, some of us will always have work, no matter the political climate. Like High Gain and the twins. Technical professions don’t go away just because the fighting stops.

“But mercenaries? We don’t have a future in that world.”

“Me, maybe,” Slipshod acknowledged, “but you’ve got a broad enough skill set that you wouldn’t have to worry much. Company’s a company,” the stallion assured her, “whether it’s hauling BattleSteeds or consumer goods, you could easily make your way in Twilight’s new galaxy.”

Squelch waved away the notion with a snort, “it’s not just about balancing books and finding the right tax loopholes,” she insisted, “I’d never be satisfied with running some mundane company that moves boxes around from planet to planet to try to eek out a margine big enough to survive on. I could have been doing that now, you know?

“This job’s...exciting,” the unicorn said, reaching out and rubbing her hoof over the chassis of the Crystal Cavalier, “I may not have ever learned how to pilot one of these things, but I’ve always appreciated them. Their power, their grace. Nothing beats the sight of these things dropping onto the battlefield and marching on their objective.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to glorify the death and destruction that’s involved,” the mare insisted with a pointed look in the stallion’s direction, “but there’s no denying that the ‘spectacle’ is awesome in its own right. These things change the fates of whole sectors. Being a pony that controls where they go and how they’re used―even if it is just a few of them―that’s...it’s power.”

Slipshod regarded the sage green unicorn as he took in both her words and her radiating emotions. It amused the stallion that he sensed a slight state of arousal coming from the mare as she spoke, “I never thought of you as the ‘power hungry’ sort. I feel like I’m seeing a new side of you.”

His employer looked up at him, her lips still curled in a hungry smile, “if you are, then it’s your own fault for not paying attention,” she chided the changeling.

“I’m just saying that I never thought of you as the type that wanted to exert any sort of broader influence or control over things,” the earth pony said, “you always seemed to be thinking more inwardly―about the company and such.”

Her smile broadened, “I guess being able to read emotions doesn’t mean that you notice everything about a pony,” the mare teased him, her tongue poking out slightly at the stallion, who balked in mild confusion, “what do you think I was doing every time I picked us out a contract? I was shaping a galaxy. Or, at least, one little piece of it,” she amended with a roll of her eyes.

“Every engagement has two sides, and you can bet that each of them was offering a job just about every time. I picked out the side that I wanted to win based on what I thought they’d be able to do for the region.

“Remember the Ferrous Holding’s job?” Slipshod nodded, his expression pulled back in a grimace as he recalled how thoroughly trashed his Wild Bronco had gotten as a result of that fight. It was the last time he’d piloted it, in fact. He wondered if Squelch had ever managed to get around to selling it before they’d been carted off to Clan space, but he didn’t get the chance to ask, “but I bet you don’t remember the parts I didn’t bother to bring up during the mission briefing.

“Like the part where Ferrous was a primary materials contractor for several civilian construction companies in the region, working with local governments to build hospitals, schools, and waste treatment facilities? While Argent was a subsidiary of a defense contractor?

“If Ferrous had lost that mine, it would have spelled the beginning of the end for their company, and Argent would have bought up all of their holdings, funneling the materials away from civil development into making more weapons.

“Suddenly a half dozen worlds have fewer hospitals to treat the injured, and more Scorpion Tanks creating the injured. Except...we changed that. We kept the potential for future escalated violence at bay, and contributed to the welfare of an entire sector. All by picking out a contract,” once more the mare was looking back at the BattleSteed, idly rubbing it with her hoof, “these things changed the fates for billions of beings with one ‘small’ fight.

“Tell me that’s not ‘power’.”

Slipshod’s lips were pursed as he considered what Squelch had just said. He felt suddenly very shallow. Most of his thoughts while ‘on the clock’ very rarely extended much beyond the bounds of winning the next fight, with very little care given to the ‘bigger picture’ or the sorts of ripple effects that the engagement could have on the galaxy at large. To him, they were just the next operation in the furtherance of keeping the company operating in the black and ensuring that everypony’s paychecks cleared at the end of the month. He never really considered the further reaching repercussions of the outcomes of the battles he won.

Apparently Squelch had. She didn’t just use her deductive talents to place her pilots in systems where there was good work to be had, but where that work might also have the potential to benefit others.

Now, perhaps, Slipshod understood a little more of what the mare had been talking about earlier. Maybe, as the director of a massive corporation directing entire fleets of massive freighters, she could still affect lives on a planetary or regional scale by funneling resources where they were needed most, but that would take a lot more logistical power than a single Mustang-class DropShip was capable of. Meanwhile, a single lance of ‘Steeds in the right place, at the right time, could indeed shift entire socio-economic paradigms.

He needed only to look at how their little group had contributed on Capensis to see proof of that.

“That’s why you need the money,” the stallion realized, “startup capital.”

Squelch nodded, “when BattleSteeds do become obsolete, and brute force isn’t how problems get solved anymore, I’m going to need to substitute martial leverage with capital leverage. The trouble is that it’s a lot harder to change the galaxy with money when none of it can be used to apply force,” she flashed a sardonic smile at the ‘Steed pilot, “kind of counter-intuitive sounding, maybe, but that’s the way of things.”

“Couldn’t you just ask Twilight or Flurry Heart for whatever resources you’d need?”

The unicorn let out a derisive little laugh, “what makes you think either of them knows what’s best for the creatures in this galaxy anymore? They’re both five hundred years out of touch, just in their own ways. I can’t be bound to their ideas of what they think is ‘best’.”

“That’s a little big-headed of you to think that you would though, isn’t it?”

“I’m not saying that I’m infallible,” the mare conceded with a shake of her head, “but I like to think that I have a better grasp of where help is needed―and, more importantly, how it’s needed―than ponies who haven’t had to really experience what life is like in the Harmony Sphere these days. I’ve kept my hoof to the pulse of galactic politics for my whole life. I know where the hotspots are, and how to cool them while ruffling as few hackles, feathers, or manes, as possible.

“I can help ponies. And I will,” Squelch stated emphatically, turning a hard gaze on the earth pony, “but, in order to do that without BattleSteeds, I’ll need a lot of resources. Which means that I need to see this fight through to its end and earn that payday,” the mare hesitated for a brief moment before continuing in a slightly more subdued tone, “and I’ll need you there to help me. Obviously, showing up with just the Zathura, and no ‘Steed pilots to drop on the field, wouldn’t count for a lot.

“Feel free to try and renegotiate your contract, now that I’ve laid out just how extensively you have me over a barrel,” she flashed a wry smirk at the stallion.

Slipshod raised up a hoof and started to massage his chin speculatively, “well, there was this moon that I’ve been wanting to buy,” he mused, not even bothering to hide the teasing note in his voice. Though it was difficult to maintain the mock-seriousness expression while Squelch was laughing, “the brochure assures me it’s populated exclusively with single young ponies in my area all tacked-up and looking to meet me…at only a billion C-bits, it sounds like a steal!”

“Just a billion? Wow, that is a bargain!”

The pair shared in the moment of mirth before the changeling issued a more genuine response, “I’m not doing this for money, you know that. My motivations are―apparently―a lot less noble than yours.

“I just want Chrysalis to suffer,” he said with a shrug, finding it a little irritating that he wasn’t feeling quite the same level of glee that he used to when imagining his moment of triumph over his former queen. Maybe that was because, back when it was a mere fantasy, he felt free to revel in how he thought he should feel upon achieving his imagined victory. But, now when that same moment was so tantalizingly close to becoming a reality…

Be careful what one wished for, he supposed. It could never live up to your internalized hype. Mostly because―

“...and after that?”

There it was. That was what had always been missing from his fantasies: the ‘and after that…’ part.

There’d simply been no point in putting any thought into considering what would come next, since it had all been an ‘impossible’ future in the first place. It was the same reason that erotic vids never continued the narative the morning after the main event. What followed wasn’t the point, it had all been about the climax. It had been the same with him. The galaxy could have all burned to ash the second after his victory, for all the stallion cared. He’d have achieved his goal, and so nothing else in the dream mattered.

But it was looking like it wouldn’t be a dream for much longer.

So what did come after? Where did he go? What did he do? Did it even matter to him?

“...I don’t know,” the changeling admitted with a tired sigh, “I didn’t think I’d even get this far.

“I don’t know that it matters either,” he added, shrugging, “unlike you, I don’t have a wide variety of skills that translate well outside of ‘Steed combat,” he smiled mirthlessly at the unicorn, “I’m just a one-trick changeling, I guess. Maybe the Gymkhana Games on Celestis VII will still be a thing when this is all over? I could try my hoof at being a gladiator.”

“You really just want to spend the rest of your life fighting?”

Slipshod paused, regarding the mare more carefully. She’d felt...disappointed? Had that been the wrong answer somehow? The stallion hadn’t really thought that there could be a ‘wrong’ answer when it came to choosing a next stage in life. Well, presumably as long as that ‘next stage’ wasn’t outright piracy or something like that. Competing in the Games was hardly something that was frowned upon by most of the galaxy though. Quite the contrary, being a champion gladiator was considered quite the accomplishment for a ‘Steed pilot. It was admittedly something that likely lay far outside of his reach with his current level of skill, but that just meant that it was something that he could work towards. A way to ‘better’ himself, after a fashion.

How could Squelch not like that answer?

“It’s what I know how to do,” the stallion defended, still feeling out the unicorn to see if he could pin down the source of her disappointment. He didn’t like her feeling that way about him, and not just because of how bitter-tasting it made their surroundings, “I figure I can make a living at it. I mean, I know I’m not hot shit or anything,” he admitted―grudgingly, “I don’t expect to perform like Mire Billetstar right out the gate…”

“No, no...I get it,” the unicorn said, clearing her throat and suddenly finding the Crystal Cavalier a lot more interesting again as she idly ran her hoof along the plating. There was a pause, then, “...you could always learn to do something else,” she pointed out, sounding as though it were almost an off-hoofed thought. She didn’t sound nearly as hopeful as she was feeling deep down though, “go anywhere. Do anything.

“Work with...anypony.”

Ah, there it was. Slipshod was finally able to trace the target for her feelings...right back to himself. It was a pleasant thought, perhaps, but ultimately, “...it won’t ever be like it was, Squelch. It can’t. It’s not safe for you.”

“I’m not asking to be the only pony in your life,” the green unicorn huffed, glaring at the stallion now, “I just…” she paused as she sought how she wanted to phrase her thoughts, all the while suppressing a stubborn blush, “I’d miss you if you weren’t around, is all.”

Slipshod cracked a more heartfelt smile now, “you’d manage,” he assured her, “and I’m just not sure I’d ever be able to offer you any useful skills where you’re going. You can’t just keep me on payroll because you like me,” he laughed at the absurdity of the notion, that would simply be pretty ridiculous from a thrifty business-pony’s perspect, like Squelch’s.

“Who says?” the unicorn snorted, “with the kind of ‘fuck you’ money I’d have, I can keep anypony I want I payroll, for any reason I want.”

“Is that really what you want; a trophy stallion? A pony who just hangs around doing nothing?”

“Of course not,” she said, offended at the notion. Another pause. A tinge of sorrow welling within her, “but I wouldn’t mind having an old friend around. Even if they’re not an employee.”

Hope. Faint, but there. Reluctant. Afraid of being snuffed out by the wrong response. It was some of the most vulnerable that Squelch had ever made herself around him since their divorce. Honestly, Slipshod wasn’t sure how he was supposed to respond. His instinct was to cut the cord entirely by taking advantage of the opportunity she was giving him. He could wound her deeply with the right words. Slam the door on the notion of the two of them sharing an emotional connection of any sort ever again, and ensure that the two of them parted ways for good the moment the invasion of Equus was over with.

She’d hate him; but she’d also finally be free of the threat that he represented to her.

“Whatever gave you the impression we were friends?”

“We both know there’re only two kinds of ponies in your life: employees and clients. You don’t do ‘friends’.”

So many ways to hurt that mare.

It was the best thing for her, really. Yet, at the same time...it was proving exceedingly difficult to bring himself to actually say them out loud. The truth was, that he didn’t want to hurt her. She’d taken him in, served as his life preserver―even if she hadn’t known it at the time. In return, he’d caused her a great deal of pain. He’d very nearly husked her, in fact. She knew what he was, and understood the full breadth of what he’d done to her. It had made her rightfully furious with him.

Murderously so, in fact. Or, very nearly, at least…

Yet, here she was. Extending more than just an olive branch. This was a true second chance. An opportunity to wipe the slate clean and see what could be built in place of the tattered shamble that had once been there. It was the same thing that most of the rest of the crew had offered him as well: another chance at being friends.

From Squelch, though, it was far more significant. He’d wounded her far more deeply than any other creature on the ship. Physically, emotionally, mentally...if anycreature in the galaxy was justified in despising him forever, it was undoubtedly Squelch.

And here she was all the same.

“I―”

Both ponies found their attention abruptly drawn to the other side of the ‘Steed Bay, and the echoing sound of something apparently falling as loudly as was physically possible, and bouncing around an absurd number of times. The pair found Xanadu trying his level best―and failing in spectacular fashion―to regain control of his helmet, which he’d apparently dropped when he’d nearly slipped off the top of his Philomena after leaning too far over the edge of it. Slipshod and his employer watched in stunned silence as the striped stallion awkwardly struggled to regain control of the rebellious headgear.

After what was objectively far too much time spent trying to go about so in what looked like a vain attempt to do it in a ‘dignified’ fashion, the zebra appeared to acknowledge that he’d been bested by the helmet and fell upon it with his whole body in an effort to finally get it under control and silenced. He then flashed the others an apologetic smile as he stood back up and spiked the helmet into the open hatch of his cockpit, denying it any future opportunities to embarrass him.

“Sorry! I, uh, slipped. You two can go back to what you were talking about―” Xanadu blanched and quickly backtracked, “if the two of you were even talking, that is! I wouldn’t know, because I wasn’t eavesdropping―” he facehoofed and forced an even wider, more ‘innocent’ looking grin, “have I told you two about how some zebras have weird ways of talking? Well, we do. So don’t read into anything I’m saying right now.

“You two just go back to making up―or whatever you two were doing. I obviously wouldn’t know, because I wasn’t listening. I’m just going to...inspect...something...” the striped pilot’s grin stretched uncomfortably wide as he looked around, found nothing nearby available to focus on except for the same open cockpit hatch next to him, “...inside my cockpit. Where I can’t hear you…” the last was muttered with an air of disappointment as he reluctantly trudged over and slipped inside.

Slipshod and Squelch continued to stare at the open hatch for several more seconds. Long enough, at least, to catch a glimpse of Xanadu’s vertically-styled mane cautiously popping back out. However, the moment the other pilot was out far enough to see that he was still being watched, he immediately withdrew back inside, muttering something that didn’t sound ponish, but was almost certainly an epithet.

“I...should probably be somewhere else too,” Squelch finally broke the silence hanging around them, turning away from the Cavalier and its pilot.

“Squelch,” this was an opportunity, Slipshod realized. He shouldn’t let it slip away like this. It was a chance to make amends―to really mend things between them again. Maybe they couldn’t have a real ‘future’ together in any meaningful sense, but that didn’t mean that they couldn’t at least part amicably. So, he was grateful that the unicorn actually stopped and looked back at him. He did balk slightly as he once more felt that swelling of hope from within the mare. It was a short-lived feeling, as she seemed to be trying to tamp it down of her own accord.

It was good that she was tempering her expectations. The earth pony swallowed and tried to begin giving his response once more, “look, I―”

Her datalink beeped at her, cutting off the stallion. She shot it an accusatory glare, but her expression melted away into resignation when she glimpsed the source of the interruption. The mare cast Slipshod a brief, apologetic look before acknowledging the call that she was receiving, “I’m here, High Gain; what’s up?”

“Signal going out from the palace, ma’am. Wide band, general transmission. I think we’re about to find out who won.”

The changeling and unicorn exchanged looks. Squelch was feeling furtive and, for a brief moment, so had Slipshod. However, he was confident that, had things started looking bleak for Victoria, they’d have been informed of her need for help long before defeat had become certain. There was a far greater chance that this was the new archon of the Pony Commonwealth announcing her ascension over her uncle. He nodded to the mare, encouraging her to listen in to the transmission.

“Put it through the ship PA, please,” she instructed the comms tech.

“Yes, ma’am.”

There was a blare of a sharp tone that echoed through the speaker system of the Zathura, immediately drawing all eyes in the direction of the nearest source of the sound. A moment later, a familiar mare’s voice could be heard throughout the DropShip, “―y name is Victoria Blueblood. While many believed me to be dead, I can assure you that is a falsehood. It was, however, necessary to avoid further assassination attempts perpetrated by my uncle.

“For too long, Dominus has abused his position as archon of the Commonwealth. He’s sought only to personal profit, and neglected the citizens he was charged with caring for. I refused to sit idly by and let it happen for a moment longer.

“Ten minutes ago, my forces and I breached the palace and secured the surrender of most of the House Guard. My uncle is in custody, and has acknowledged my victory. A more formal transfer of power will be arranged in the coming days, but I wanted the ponies of the Commonwealth to know that their salvation is close at hoof. Things will be changing, for the better. I promise you, that I won’t fail, and I won’t falter.

“Archon Victoria Blueblood, out.”

The wash of relief that flooded the ship would have been palpable to even non-changelings, Slipshod thought to himself as he felt the tension around him unwinding. Even Squelch was breathing a sigh of relief. Not that the stallion wasn’t also glad to hear that he and his lance wouldn’t need to drop down into a fight. He was. Of course, knowing that the battle to install Victoria as archon was effectively over as far as they were concerned simply meant that now they had to worry about how the invasion of Equus was going to be handled. Arguably a much more stress-inducing contemplation.

“Well, looks like you got all dressed up for nothing,” the sage green unicorn quipped, flashing the earth pony a much easier smile, now that just a bit of the emotional burden taxing her had been lifted away by the news.

“Looks like,” Slipshod agreed, “how about I change into something more comfortable and swing by your quarters later? We can talk a bit more about―”

Squelch’s datalink chirped at her again. This time though, the mare’s expression suggested that she’d anticipated the interruption. Without even looking at it, she accepted the new incoming communication, “Squelch here. I assume Timberjack and Victoria want to talk with Twilight and I?”

“Uh…” High Gain had obviously already had her introduction prepared to deliver, and now was trying to figure out what to say now that most of the reason for her call had already been correctly anticipated, “yes, ma’am. Do you want it forwarded to your link, or―”

“Put it through to my private terminal in my quarters,” the mare informed her comm tech, “let them know I’ll be with them shortly.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Squelch closed the channel and turned a wan smile back towards the ‘Steed pilot, “talking’s going to have to wait until later,” she informed him reluctantly, “some of us are actually going to have to work today, turns out,” the mare said, teasing. She even managed to work up a slightly more mirthful upturn in her lips near the end. Of course, deep down, Slipshod could sense that little mote of dread that was starting to form. The upcoming campaign would be dangerous. They all very well could die.

Slipshod did his best to help by giving her a broad grin in return, “hey, I am all for chatting up a hot BattleSteed pilot...and maybe Victoria too,” the stallion phrased the latter as though it were an afterthought, earning a surprised look from the unicorn, “have you seen Timberjack? I bet that dude can buck like a Big Mac! Imagine what he can thrust like,” he winked at the mare and issued a quick double-click with his tongue.

Despite herself, Squelch chortled into her hoof, “letch,” she chided, jokingly.

“I’m just a stallion with needs like any other,” he defended, feigning a prim indignation at her comment, though he still allowed his face to break out into a broad smile a moment later.

“I often wonder about that,” Squelch said, narrowing her eyes at the earth pony. He raised a confused eyebrow and she added, “about the ‘stallion’ part. You knew a lot about...certain things,” she said, clearing her throat, “are you...a stallion? Like, really?”

For a moment, Slipshod contemplated giving the unicorn a definitive answer to her question. But then he thought that it would be significantly more entertaining to not do that. Instead, he shook his head and informed her, “now, now…” the changeling kept his expression perfectly schooled, leaning in closer to the mare as he affected a very sultry soprano that arguably sounded more feminin than Squelch’s own normal speaking voice, “...a pony’s got to have their secrets…”

The mare’s eyes widened in a brief moment of shock, her cheeks flushing visibly even through the light coat of fur covering them. The changeling could sense the brief flares of uncertainty deep within her as she mentally debated whether he was serious, and how she retroactively felt about their relationship―and her own personal preferences―if he was, “I...should get to that meeting,” she managed to get out brusquely, before turning away and trotting towards the exit of the ‘Steed Bay. She paused at the end of the catwalk, briefly glancing back at Slipshod. He merely grinned and waved his hoof at her.

She smiled, and then left his sight.

For his own part, the earth pony dropped down inside his Cavalier’s cockpit and began to cycle everything down to a completely powered-off state, as it looked like there wasn’t going to be a need for the lance to go out after all. By the time he was done with that last little bit of housekeeping before he could officially sign off for the day, he emerged to find that Xanadu was waiting for him at the end of the gantry, an expectant look on his face.

The golden stallion paused, regarding the striped pilot for several silent seconds before finally asking, “...yes?”

Xanadu let out an exasperated sound, “well?! What’d you say? What’d she say?”

“...about?”

Slipshod, of course, knew perfectly well what the zebra was asking about. However, as he was getting quite a lot of amusement out of the frustration wafting from the other pilot, he was willing to continue to ‘play dumb’ for a bit longer. It might also help to prove a point regarding the concept of ‘private conversations’.

“About the two of you! Are you getting back together? Did she forgive you? Is there going to be a ‘happily ever after’ for the two of you?”

“Wow, you really have no personal boundaries, do you?”

Xanadu frowned, “I’m not allowed to ask how my friend’s are doing?”

Slipshod rolled his eyes and walked past the zebra, making his own way out of the ‘Steed Bay as he headed for his quarters to get changed into something more comfortable. He had another session booked with Rigger Brush later. She wanted to draw an Abyssinian this time, “we’re fine,” he informed the other stallion.

“I heard the two of you used to be better than ‘fine’,” he replied, falling into step beside the earth pony, “you guys were a ‘power couple’ according to every member of the crew I’ve talked to who was on the ship during that time.”

A frown creased the changeling’s lips as he thought back on those bittersweet days. He’d felt content, and positively vibrant, feeding off of Squelch’s incredible passion and dedication for her work. The cost, however, had turned out to be quite high, as it had very nearly ‘crippled’ the mare; and risked ruining the Coursers as a result, “we’re not good for each other as a couple,” he replied evenly. Then he thought back on what he’d said, sighed, and rephrased, “I’m not good for her.”

“Oh,” the zebra said, his features falling slightly as he caught the implication. Though it apparently hadn’t dismayed his efforts entirely, “but you don’t have to take love from her, right? You said as long as you have enough creatures in your life who care about you, it won’t hurt any of them. Most of the crew seems to have adapted,” he pointed out, “you and Squelch could―”

“Squelch doesn’t need me in her life,” Slipshod snapped, casting a glare over his shoulder at the other pilot.

Xanadu recoiled slightly, hurt by the rebuke, but still persisting, “but she obviously still wants you in it.”

“Well maybe I don’t want to be in hers!” the earth pony snarled back. It wasn’t only the zebra who was surprised by that reaction either. Slipshod hadn’t even really been thinking when he’d said it. It had just sort of...come out. Yet, at the same time, he didn’t feel like there’d been any deep ‘truth’ to that sentiment. Rather, it was more likely one of his old instincts rising momentarily to the surface:

Lying to protect himself.

Apparently, one didn’t completely change everything about themselves, even the bad habits, quite so quickly. Not even a changeling; the quintessential ‘experts’ at changing.

“You don’t mean that,” Xanadu charged. Slipshod wondered for a moment if changelings really had a monopoly on sensing the feelings of others.

Taking a moment to recompose himself, the stallion opted not to deny the obvious, “no...no, I don’t. But,” he stressed, jabbing a hoof pointedly at the other equine, “that doesn’t mean that I should be. The truth is...I don’t know,” he sighed, shaking his head, “I don’t know where I’m supposed to go or be when this is all over.

“I never thought that far ahead.”

“So then why not be with her?”

“And do what? Just...exist around her?” the earth pony snorted, “that’s not living; that’s being furniture! What am I supposed to do? How do I contribute?”

“Well, how would you like to contribute?”

The question sounded so simple, and was so easy to ask. Answering it though, for Slipshod, was effectively impossible, because, “I. Don’t. Know!” he all but screamed through clenched teeth in exasperation, “I’ve never had to think about ‘after’ being a mercenary,” Slipshod detested that how he sounded right now could very well be arguably described as ‘whining’, but he was simply too frustrated about his lack of ability to answer such a simple question that he couldn’t quite control his tone effectively, “I never thought I’d live long enough for it to matter!”

Xanadu looked empathetically at the changeling, “aww, that’s so sad…”

His sincerity was somehow more aggravating, “thank you,” was Slipshod’s flat response. He turned around to resume heading for his quarters, “look can we talk about this later?” Or never. Preferably never, the stallion thought privately, “I’m meeting up with Rigger tonight and need to study some reference material for our session.”

“Yeah. Sure. No problem,” the changeling could feel that there was still something of a problem, but was grateful that the zebra wasn’t pressing the issue any further for the moment, or following him any further, “we’ll talk later. When you want to.”

Which wasn’t to say that it meant Slipshod was freed from having his thoughts plagued by those questions any further. If anything, the silence only allowed them to echo around more loudly in his head. Nor did their persistence prove at all helpful in coming up with answers to them. He was a ‘Steed pilot. It was what he’d been trained to do in the Sphere. His other skills related to surviving as a changeling among non-changelings while remaining hidden. Not exactly a marketable skill set once the galaxy knew changelings were a thing.

He’d offer to work for the new League government as a spy, but something told him that such things weren’t really going to be a pursuit of the kind of ‘open’ and ‘benevolent’ government that Twilight would want to build. Nor did he believe that Flurry Heart would want to work with changelings.

Slipshod wasn’t even all that certain that changelings, as a species, would have a place in the Harmony Sphere of the future. Twilight wasn’t the princess anymore. Flurry Heart would be the one making the calls; and she despised his kind. Solving the ‘changeling problem’ with genocide didn’t strike him as something that was completely outside the realm of possibility.

That would solve his dilemma, the changeling acknowledged sardonically.

But, assuming for a moment, that there wasn’t a mass-cleansing of his kind from the galaxy, that didn’t mean that Slipshod had a firm grasp on what he would even want to do with his life, if given a choice. He’d only ever just wanted to survive. That had been enough. Had been. It wouldn’t always be though, he knew. Not anymore. He knew he needed purpose. He just...didn’t know what that would be.

Learning tumbling might be a good start.

That was the thought that went through the earth pony’s head as he managed to lose his footing while descending a flight of stairs. Obviously he’d been a little too distracted by his wool-gathering to even manage properly placing one hoof in front of the other. That sure boded well for his hypothetical ability to learn to do something productive with his life. He was perhaps lucky to even still have a ‘rest of his life’ after a fall like that, the stallion reasoned once he’d come to a stop at the bottom and recognized that he was, in fact, not―quite―dead.

An exaggeration, to be sure. He wasn’t mangled or crippled, or anything like that. That much was immediately obvious to him. Though he did feel a good deal of pain in his right foreleg―the one which had betrayed him on the fateful step. He didn’t think it was broken, but it certainly hurt bad enough that he had to wonder if it might be.

“You ponies do realize that I don’t mind having an empty clinic, right?” a stallion’s voice that was equal parts resigned and patronizing said, sounding as though it were very nearly right on top of him. Slipshod looked up to see that Doc Dee was, indeed, standing only a foot away, looking down at the prostrate ‘Steed pilot, “I promise you that I’m not bored.”

“S’up, Doc?” Slipshod groaned.

“Oh, good; you managed not to kill yourself,” the ivory unicorn’s features softened slightly as his eyes surveyed the other stallion, “did you bruise anything other than your pride?”

“Might’ve broke my leg,” the earth pony seethed, cradling the affected limb with his other hoof.

“Ah! I see you’ve become a medical professional since we last spoke. I’ll leave you to it then! Obviously you don’t need my help,” the physician smirked down at the grimacing pilot, “why do you all keep insisting on diagnosing yourselves? Do I plan BattleSteed missions?”

Slipshod glared at the other stallion, “Doc…”

The unicorn rolled his eyes and motioned for the fallen changeling to present the injured limb, “let me see it,” Slipshod very carefully ceased coveting the leg, which was quickly―though very gently―taken up in the ship’s doctor’s telekinesis. Magic very gingerly poked, prodded, and manipulated the lumb and joints. As careful as the handling was, Slipshod did still wince a few times with pain as the injury was aggravated. Finally, Doc Dee released the limb back into the pilot’s care and made his diagnosis, “well, it’s not broken,” he proclaimed, much to Slipshod’s relief, “but it’s sprained pretty badly.

“We’ll get you to your room―since it’s closer than Medical―and I’ll set you up with a brace and some painkillers. You’ll be fine in a week. Sound good?”

“You’re the expert, Doc.”

“I certainly am. Need any help standing up?” The changeling nodded, and the doctor lent his magic to helping him back onto his three uninjured hooves. From there, the pair limped slowly back to his cabin and helped him into his bed, “you should be good to go from here,” the unicorn said. Then, after a moment’s thought, he fished a small bottle out of his lab coat pocket and passed it to the ‘Steed pilot, “I take these for my arthritis, but they should take the edge off for you too until I can get you a bottle of your own. It’s just Ibuprofen. One tablet, three times a day.”

Slipshod wasted no time in cracking open the bottle and popping one of the oversized pills and swallowing it down. He frowned at the bitter taste of the tablet, and the doctor floated him over a bottle of water from nearby, “thanks, Doc.”

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Dee assured the earth pony as he headed for the door, “try not to cripple yourself any further in the meantime, okay?”

“No promises, Doc!” Slipshod flashed the white unicorn a mischievous grin, already sensing the edge being taken off of the pain in his leg. He eyed the bottle with mild intrigue, not recalling the last time he’d felt mere Ibuprofen working quite that fast, or that well, “does this have codeine in it?” the unicorn winked at him from the doorway and then disappeared, “you’re a good pony, Doc; I don’t care what Squelch says about you!”

The door closed without further comment from the physician. Slipshod signed and leaned back on his cot, feeling quite warm and fuzzy inside. Figures that the doctor would keep the best medications for himself, the changeling thought to himself with a small chuckle. He hadn’t even gotten anything this good after getting roughed up on the Ferrous mission. He wondered what had made the unicorn...feel so generous...this time...around…

…

His door didn’t chime this time.

At least, if it did chime, Slipshod hadn’t heard it. He honestly couldn’t recall hearing much of anything prior to being awoken by a forceful telekinetic throw from his bed up against the far wall of his cabin. He’d barely had time to register that he was no longer in his cot before his body was heaved upwards by that same, powerful, magical field, sending him slamming into the ceiling. The light fixture he collided with cracked and dimmed, darkening the room slightly.

The levitation field finally released him at this point, leaving the stunned changeling to fall to the floor. He’d barely come to a stop before two ponies piled on top of him, pining his limbs together as hobblers were snapped to his fetlocks. Slipshod’s eyes finally managed to focus long enough in the now much more dimly lit cabin to identify Sabot and Breech Block as the two ponies who were restraining him.

“Woah! What the fuck, guys?! What’s going―”

Sabot delivered a sharp cross against the changeling’s jaw, sending his head bouncing soundly off the floor of his cabin and silencing him, “shut up, traitor!” the unicorn mare screamed. Apparently not entirely satisfied with striking him only the one time, her hoof cuffed him again, making his ears ring, “get this piece of shit up, Breech,” she instructed her partner as she finally climbed off of the ‘Steed pilot, “I’d toss you out the airlock for what you did; but I know Squelch’ll want to gut you herself,” the security mare, apparently unable to resist getting in another hit, belted the earth pony a third time, this time in the gut, “...if she ever wakes up.”

That caught Slipshod’s attention. He fought through the pain and the fog that was still clouding his mind―most of it from the beating that he’d just taken, but there were still some lingering effects from the medication he’d taken as well, he sensed, “what do you mean? What happened to Squelch?” She was hurt? By who? There was even the possibility that she was hurt bad enough that she might not regain consciousness? What had happened? How long had he been asleep?

The answer he received was another kick. This one from Breech Block, “don’t play dumb, you fuck,” he seethed, his roiling rage an equal match for Sabot’s, “Timberjack and Victoria both saw what you did while they were on comms with Squelch! You were caught red-hoofed!”

The security stallion looked over at his partner, “let’s just eject this filth. What if he breaks out while we’re waiting for Squelch to wake up?”

“I didn’t do anything to her!” Slipshod protested, “I’ve been here since we stood down from alert status an hour ago!”

“You lying bastard!” Sabot snapped, “you. Were. Seen! Victoria commed the bridge and told High Gain that you’d just assaulted Squelch!” She then looked at the other stallion, “fuck it. We’re spacing him. I don’t care if we get yelled at or whatever. I don’t want this thing on the ship anymore.”

Slipshod’s initial confusion over hearing the outright impossible notion that he’d been ‘seen’ hurting his ex-wife was quickly overridden by visceral fear as he sensed the iron-clad dedication within both security ponies to make good on his execution, “no, wait! I didn―”

Breech Block turned and bucked him upside the head. That was his last clear memory before feeling himself being dragged along the deck towards the airlock. Panic began to set in again. He fought to keep it in check. Yelling out or struggling too much might get him bucked unconscious again. If that happened, the next time he came to could very well be while suffocating to death in the vacuum of space.

This was crazy. It made no sense! How could he possibly have been ‘seen’ by Timberjack and Victoria doing something that he knew he couldn’t have done! He’d passed out in his quarters! The first thought that crossed his mind was that he was being set up by the new archon of the Commonwealth and the commander of Timberwolf’s Dragoons. Of course, that still required somepony on the inside conspiring with them to hurt Squelch, and he couldn’t think of any member of the crew who’d do that. Let alone why those two would want him out of the way.

There was simply no obvious motivation that he could see! They couldn’t be lying. Not knowingly at any rate.

Had they been mistaken then? Had they seen another pony that they only thought was him? The changeling quickly ran through a mental list of every other pony on the ship and what they looked like. There were ponies with his coloration, but none of them were earth pony stallions. It was pretty unlikely. Besides, he was doubtful that Sabot and Breech Block would be doing all of this on just anypony’s say-so. They’d have reviewed the call footage and judged for themselves who had attacked Squelch.

They either believed it was him too, based on the recording; or they were both part of some weird conspiracy. The former was the ‘simpler’ explanation, but the latter was the only one that it could have been, given that Slipshod knew he hadn’t done it!

Nopony on the ship looked enough like him to be mistaken for the ‘Steed pilot. So, unless there was a second changeling onboard―

The stallion blanched.

There were eighty-six members of the crew.

He’d had a great deal of other concerns that had come to occupy his attention in the aftermath of the fight to protect the zebra city on Capensis. He certainly hadn’t been given much of an opportunity to dwell on the implications while being delicately carved up by that psychopathic griffin on the Clan DropShi. After that, it had just felt like so much more was going on. He’d pushed that brief moment of confusion during his call with Squelch prior to Flechette’s death to the back of his mind. It had felt unimportant with everything else going on. A negligible miscount on a new draft of a recently updated roster. Hardly a particularly surprising thing to have happen. Especially in the midst of turning the DropShip into a makeshift field hospital. He’d been perfectly willing to ascribe the slip-up to nothing more than a miscount conducted by an overworked and exhausted ship’s doctor.

But now, he wasn’t so sure.

He and Twilight had been so certain that another changeling must have been onboard the Galloway/Zathura. It was the simplest and most obvious answer as to how the lance of changeling BattleSteeds had been able to ambush them on what should have otherwise been a secret mission. He’d conducted his own low-profile search and turned up no sign; but he’d have been the first to acknowledge that his efforts had been anything but genuinely thorough. He’d checked for ‘the obvious suspects’ as best as he knew how without tipping off any potential changeling spies. Which wasn’t the same thing as saying that he was positive that no other member of the crew was a shapeshift like himself.

Then along had come Cinder’s teams, doing a much more overt and thorough screening of the crew. If there was a second changeling on the DropShip, her search would certainly have succeeded where his had come up short. But, in the end, he’d been the only shape-shifter that they’d turned up.

However, they hadn’t actually screened every member of the crew. Not really.

Cinder’s teams had checked off eighty-five members from the Galloway’s roster. But there should have been eighty-six on it as of that afternoon. At least, according to his conversation with Squelch, that was the number on the roster that she’d given to Doc Dee to pass on to the screening teams. That hadn’t been the number that Slipshod had seen written on it though. It had been changed. And there was only one individual who would―or even could―have done that.

The other changeling on the ship.

And he had a pretty clear idea of who it was now.

As though summoned by his thoughts, Slipshod caught a glimpse of a familiar unicorn stallion in a lab coat standing in one of the connecting corridors. His expression―smug self-satisfaction―was all the confirmation that the ‘Steed pilot needed. Doc Dee was the other changeling on the ship. It made a certain amount of sense, now that he thought about it. After all, who wasn’t happy to have their doctor take care of them? The gratitude of the crew would have been more than sufficient to sustain the physician. Nor would he have been forced to go out and actively cultivate relationships the way that Slipshod did. All of Dee’s meals were all too happy to deliver themselves right to his office.

Now Dee was here, watching the results of his latest machinations, as Slipshod was hauled off to be executed. The earth pony seethed, his blood boiling at the thought that the real traitor in their midsts was going to get away with having sold them out to Chrysalis. Get away with framing him for a crime he hadn’t committed.

Get away with hurting Squelch.

Not that he thought for a moment the two security ponies who were about to vent him into space were going to believe him if he were to call out and identify the doctor that everypony else on the ship respected so much as being the actual assailant. His plees would fall on deaf ears. More likely they’d fall on more bucks to his head as well. So he didn’t bother saying anything. Besides, Slipshod wasn’t feeling like talking right now anyway.

This was a time for action.

Both of his would-be executioners yelled out in surprise as their prisoner suddenly disappeared in a wave of roiling emerald fire, leaving behind a pair of empty hoof-cuffs that clattered to the deck plating. A moment later, they realized that the changeling hadn’t actually vanished. He’d simply shrunk. They gawked in shock at the diminutive little breezy fluttering between them, apparently having failed to grasp up to that point that changelings could, well...change. Even if they had been keeping that fact at the forefront of their thoughts, it was possible that they hadn’t quite realized how varied the shapes were that he could assume.

After all, only Rigger had ever seen him in a form that wasn’t even vaguely equine in shape or size.

He didn’t remain a breezy for long though, having needed to become one simply to escape his bonds. No he was free, and of a single-minded purpose: expose and punish the true traitor who’d hurt Squelch.

Another flash of green fire illuminated the hallway. Both of the security ponies recovered from their surprise now, and began chasing after the golden earth pony who was running full tilt at the physician. Dee looked momentarily shocked as the pony that he’d come to watch die slipped his bonds, but he recovered quickly. It wasn’t like he didn’t know exactly how versatile changeling transformations could be.

They were still keen to play their role though, and so the physician adopted a shocked and terrified expression, turning to run away from his assailant. A mad dash through the corridors ensued, as all four ponies sprinted down the ship’s restrictive causeways, narrowly avoiding collisions with a few unsuspecting members of the crew as they went. Other members of the mercenary outfit’s security team made appearances too, likely summoned by Sabot and Breech Block to help apprehend their errant prisoner.

Those that Slipshod couldn’t easily dodge around as a full-grown earth pony, he slipped past while in the form of a ferret or sparrow, much to their shock and consternation. Eventually, the ‘Steed pilot was able to catch up to Dee and tackle the ivory unicorn to the ground, pinning him.

“Help!” the terrified doctor yelled out, cowering beneath the earth pony and throwing his hooves protectively over his face, “he’s trying to kill me!”

The words sounded exactly right for a stallion trying to express exactly how utterly afraid they were. Yet, Slipshod couldn’t sense a single more of fear from the stallion that he’d accosted. Terror should have been radiating off of the physician like heat through an open oven. The fact that it wasn’t was all the confirmation that he needed.

It wouldn’t be enough for the squad of security ponies who were only seconds away from rescuing their ‘comrade’ though. Slipshod was going to need to show them something that would be perceivable by non-empaths. He needed to show them what Dee really was.

The earth pony stallion’s lips curled back in a snarl as he stamped a hoof squarely in the middle of the doctor’s chest, “not yet, I’m not. Game’s over, ‘doctor’.”

A massive green fireball of changeling magic engulfed the corridor. When it dissipated a second later, all that could be heard was the sound of a couple dozen galloping hooves all skittering to a stop. A half dozen security ponies all looked on in confusion as they saw the earth pony that they’d been chasing after now in his changeling form...standing over a second changeling.

Twilight wasn’t the only pony who knew how to unravel changeling disguises. Frankly, it was a rather simple matter for a changeling to do so to others of their kind. A ‘hard reset’ of sorts could be employed to dispense with a compromised disguise. It was a very standard changeling spell. With some effort, its effects could be applied to anything that the changeling was touching, in much the same way that a changeling could include any clothing or barding that they were wearing into a transformation.

It would, of course, be a simple matter for Doc Dee―or whatever their real name was―to change back into his disguise. Which Slipshod would then just undo again. The two of them could play at that game for hours. But there would be little point. The revelation had been made. Nothing that Dee could say or do would be enough to save him from further scrutiny by the rest of the crew; or by Twilight, who would easily know Dee for who and what he truly was.

The charade was over with. The smart move was to surrender. Slipshod would―and had―done just that when he’d been found out. Now it was Dee’s turn. He’d be imprisoned, questioned, and held indefinitely. Not the worst fate. A better one than he deserved, as for as Slipshod was concerned.

All he had to do was stand down.

“...traitor,” the newly exposed changeling whispered to Slipshod, sneering with his chitinous madable, “you betrayed our queen!”

“She was no queen to me,” Slipshod shot back, “she left me to die.”

“It is our duty to serve her! Even if death is the service,” Dee insisted defiantly. Then the other changeling did something that surprised Slipshod: he smiled, “allow me to demonstrate…”

A green flash, and then a pair of massive canine paws latched onto Slisphod’s shoulders. A second later, the ‘Steed pilot found himself sailing down the corridor in the direction of the stunned security team, bowling a few of them over when he collided. By the time he was back on his hooves, he was only able to catch sight of a diamond dog’s tail vanishing around a turn down the corridor in the direction of the DropShip’s ‘Steed Bay.

Why the exposed spy was going in the direction, Slipshod didn’t know. It wasn’t like it mattered where on the ship Dee went. Ponies knew he was a changeling. The Zathura would be locked down, and Twilight would use her magic to screen the crew and reveal him in whatever disguise he chose to assume. He was trapped, with no means of escaping. Running was pointless.

That ‘service in death’ bit had him feeling a little concerned though. Perhaps Dee intended to take his own life in order to deprive them of a possible intelligence source? If so, Twilight and Cinder would likely appreciate the physician not being given the opportunity to do so.

Slipshod shifted into a griffon and flew after them.

The arms room wasn’t along the path that the doctor was taking, so he wasn’t going to shoot himself. The airlock was in the opposite direction. For a moment, Slipshod thought that Dee might be heading for his clinic and the stockpile of drugs that could doubtlessly be used in lethal fashion by a pony with his knowledge; but then the diamond dog darted down a hall that took him towards the rear of the ship past the ‘Steed Bay. This puzzled Slipshod, as there wasn’t really much down that way other than their BattleSteeds and the ship’s―

“The reactor!” he gasped in horrified realization, “he’s going to blow the reactor!”

Dee wasn’t out to kill himself in service to Chrysalis; he was going to remove one of her biggest threats: Twilight Sparkle.

Slipshod slapped his talons across his left wrist, intending to put out a shipwide alert. However, much to his frustration, he found that he was no longer wearing his datalink. He couldn’t remember taking it off before passing out in his cabin, so it must have been stripped from him by Sabot and Breech Block after they’d knocked him out.

He couldn’t contact the engineering teams to warn them to seal off the reactor compartment. The rest of the ship’s security teams had doubtlessly been alerted to the presence of a second changeling by now, but without knowing exactly where he was headed to, they’d be attempting to perform a general search and lockdown. Dee wouldn’t have any trouble taking out one or two guards. Especially if those guards had to spend those first couple seconds of the encounter trying to understand where a diamond dog―or whatever form Dee chose to adopt for the encounter―was coming at them.

He could even choose to look like another security pony and slip by them entirely uncontested. The Zathura didn’t have a Masquerade Protocol the way that Cinder’s DropShip did, in order to specifically deal with the possibility of a rogue changeling roaming around. The crew had been trained on how to deal with or respond to something like this. They were all but helpless against a determined changeling.

Which meant that fell on him to stop Dee from killing them all.

The narrow twists and turns of the compact Mustang-class DropShip’s corridors impeded Slipshod’s ability to take full advantage of his ability to fly, but he still managed to gain some ground on the feeling physician. Fortunately, the design of the ship meant that the only way to reach the ship’s reactor was by going through its wide open ‘Steed Bay. This was where Slipshod was able to make the best use of his griffon form, pumping his wings and bridging the gap between himself and diamond dog in just a few seconds.

“Gotcha―woah, shit!”

He only just managed to avoid being swatted aside by the massive, clawed, swipe of a maulwurf as he averted his charge and backflipped out of the way. As he came out of the tumble, he transformed, emerging out the other side of the gout of magical fire as a rocky-hided cragadile. The catwalk spanning the ‘Steed Bay loudly protested his landings, as the massive weight of his form combined with that of Dee’s own atop the walkway that was designed to facilitate the travel of much smaller―and much lighter―ponies. It still held though. For the moment.

The maulwurf swiped again, its meter-long claws racking the backside of the stone-skinned reptile. Slipshod roared, more in anger than in pain, and lunged for the other beast, snapping at it with his jaws. He managed to grab a chunk of the creature’s thick hide, but he wasn’t quite able to pierce it. A pair of meaty arms wrapped around Slipshod’s barrel and tried to lift him off the catwalk in an effort to throw him away. Instead, the cragadile rolled sharply to the side.

The suddenness of the maneuver was enough to tip the other other changeling off balance and send them listing precariously over the railing. It seemed that the catwalk wasn’t going to wait around to see if the pair of massive creatures battling upon it would be able to recover or not, however. With a screeching cry of rending metal, bolts and welds gave way, sending the two writhing monsters, and most of the ‘Steed Bay’s suspended walkways, falling to the floor.

Both changelings released one another as they enveloped themselves in emerald flames. The newly apparated bugbear and manticore flew around one another. Scorpion tail clashed with barbed stinger, bear hands grappling with lion paws. Roars echoed throughout the cavernous repair bay. Beneath the flying melee, technicians who had previously been merely enthralled by the fighting above them now dashed for cover to escape both the falling debris, and thrashing beasts.

The bugbear cried out in pain as their opponent’s stinger managed to get in a slash across the flying ursine’s gut. A flash of fire later, a furious roc was lashing out with its talons, grasping hold of the offending barbed tail and ripping it messily away from the manticore’s body. The leonid unleashed and blood-curdling scream before transforming into a hydra. A sextet of very toothy heads snapped at the large avian.

The otherwise rather spacious DropShip ‘Steed bay was feeling quite a bit more cramped as two monsters every meter as tall as the mechanical equines continued their brawl. Metal was mangled, and machinery crushed as multi-ton beasts stomped and collided with their surroundings. Alarms were sounding now. Specifically those which would alert the crew in the Bay to an imminent depressurization. Slipshod was fairly confident that the hull hadn’t been punctured―yet―by the fighting, but it was certainly a prudent precaution, given the nature of the battle taking place in a part of the ship where the hull was essentially meant to come apart in very specific places. One good throw against the door had the potential to cause a breach.

In an effort to avoid the snapping heads, the roc vanished and was replaced by a much more agile phoenix, which sought to use its smaller size to nimbly avoid the slower and clunkier hydra heads. All the while, blasts of fire from the fiery bird’s beak seared portions of its flesh. Frustrated with its lack of success, the six-headed behemoth chose to shrink itself down as well, into a fireproof dragon. The pair chased each other around, trading flames with one another.

The dragon was eventually forced to back off slightly as its target transformed into a stone-skinned gargoyle. The pair grappled and tousled in the air, before flying got too cumbersome for either, and they both came crashing to the bay floor. An enraged centaur emerged from the fray, bucking wildly as it sent a stunned minotaur sailing into the foreleg of the nearby inert Crystal Cavalier.

The bovine clambered clumsily back up onto its hooves, just in time to catch the headlong charge from the centaur. Both horns and heads locked as the two collided. For several seconds, it looked like the pair were on even footing, neither giving ground. However, the minotaur eventually began to lose traction―and ground―as their mere pair of cloven hooves found themselves unable to gain enough traction on the deck plating to counter the power behind the half-horse’s own quartet. He was soon pinned back up against the heavy BattleSteed, unable to overpower the centaur.

Then, in a flash of flame, the minotaur was gone. With a shocked yell, the centaur lurched forward and bounced their head off the armored limb of the Cavalier with a resounding CLANG! They stumbled, momentarily disoriented, but recovered quickly and snarled, looking around for their opponent. Suddenly, they cried out in intense pain, rearing back, their arms clutching at their chest and belly. Blood flowed from the dozens of quills that had impaled themselves into the centaur’s flesh. A pukwudgie scampered out of the way in order to avoid being trampled by the other’s hooves.

As the chaotic battle raged, the technicians fleeing the ‘Steed Bay were replaced by member’s the of the ship’s security and recovery teams. The better part of forty armed and armored ponies took up firing positions to either side of the melee, rifles gripped by hooves or floating nearby in telekinetic fields.

One unicorn mare glanced hesitantly between the brawling gargoyle and nirik and the blood-red pegasus stallion standing beside her, “do...we open fire?”

Blood Chit’s jaw was set in a grim line as he watched the spectacle unfolding in front of him, and shook his head, “one of those is Slipshod,” he reminded her.

“Didn’t he attack Squelch?”

The leader of the company’s recovery teams, and the current acting chief of the vessel’s security detachment, looked at the unicorn, “if that’s really true; then who’s the other changeling?” the mare didn’t have an answer, “I’m not so sure it was really Slipshod that assaulted her.”

“How are we supposed to tell who’s who?”

To that, Blood Chit didn’t have an answer. Even if the changelings reverted to whatever their pony forms were at some point, how could they trust that the Slipshod they would be looking at was the ‘original’ Slipshod? The pegasus felt the next best thing to useless right now. How were they supposed to stop a fight when, at any moment, the combatants could transform into something almost as massive as a BattleSteed? Even now, he was watching an ursa wrestle with a sphynx. He was doubtful that their auto-rifles would be able to do much to monsters the size of light BattleSteeds.

He looked over to tell the rest of the security ponies nearby to simply hold their fire until they could figure out a method of differentiating the changelings from one another. Just as he looked away from the fight, the deck beneath his hooves trembled. A moment later, a cry went out, “look out!”

The crimson pegasus turned in time to see an ammo jack flying through the air towards their position. Designed to be able to lift several tonnes of explosive shells or missiles into the internal magazines of BattleSteeds, the utility vehicle-sized piece of industrial equipment would easily crush any pony that it hit, and it was currently hurtling towards several of them.

Blood Chit wasted no time. He bucked the unicorn mare next to him in the ribs, kicking her aside. Then he bolted forward and used his forehooves to shoving another stunned stallion out of harm’s way. He spun, locking his focus onto a third member of his team. A mighty clap of his wings sent a targeted burst of wind slamming into the other pegasus mare, blowing her into a tumbling sprawl to the edge of the bay, and relative safety.

A shadow fell over the crimson stallion as the ‘Steed Bay’s lights were blotted out by the lift falling towards him. Blood Chit had time enough only to recognize that he’d used up his chance to save himself while ensuring that everypony else was safe. He hadn’t even had to think about it, really. After all, as a part of a ‘Steed pilot recovery team, getting ponies out of harm’s way was kind of his ‘thing’. And he was very good at what he did.

It did surprise him that the thunderous sound of crumpling machinery that he heard a heartbeat later had not, in fact, been the result of the ammo jack crushing him to death. Though the lifting equipment had been involved. The pegasus stallion looked up with wide, shocked, eyes at the massive slingtail standing over him, panting. The large tri-horned creature looked from where the jack lay in a crumpled heap, deflected in the nick of time by a swing from its meaty tail, and locked its eyes on Blood Chit. It smirked at the stallion.

The recovery team leader let out a short bark of relieved laughter, feeling the tension leaving his shoulders as he realized his life had been saved; and recognizing who must have saved it, “much appreciated, Slip.”

The slingtail’s lips pulled up further into a broad smile. Then, suddenly, it gasped. It’s eyes widened in shock. Blood Chit’s own face scrunched in confusion as he followed the slingtail’s gaze towards its belly. It was there that he noticed the strange boney barb that was protruding from the softer flesh of its stomach, blood dripping to the deck. Just as suddenly as it had appeared, the bard retracted, causing the large gray beast to jerk and wince.

Upon its back, a large wyvern waving a tail tipped by a blood-soaked stinger behind it, issued a victorious roar. Fury and indignation overrode Blood Chit’s shock. The pegasus took to the air and unslung his rifle in one smooth motion. His hind legs coiled forward and the butt of the weapon tucked snug into his shoulder. Achieving a stabilized aerial firing position, the stallion depressed the trigger. A torrent of hypersonic slugs sprayed against the wyvern’s thick hide. The creature snarled, more in annoyance than pain, as the anti-personnel caliber rounds didn’t seem to be up to the task of piercing the hide of a creature that was close kin to a dragon.

The wyvern leaped from the back of the slumped over slingtail and flung itself at the pegasus. Blood Chit balked, but continued to fire as his wings flapped desperately to pull him back from the monster’s assault. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to evade it though. A few other ponies were finally adding their own shots to his, but their rounds were just as ineffective. None had thought to break out the heavier ordinance for what had gone out as a shipwide alert to apprehend a fugitive ‘pony’. Perhaps a few were heading to the arms rooms to withdraw an SRM launcher or two, now that they understood just how unrestrained a changeling’s ability to transform truly was. However, that help would come too late to save him.

The pegasus mentally cringed at the thought that Slipshod had likely just gotten himself killed saving his life, just for him to end up throwing it away less than a minute later in an act of―ultimately futile―revenge. Hardly a thoughtful way to return the favor; but there was no help for it now. He was committed.

A thunderous cacophony of sound buffeted the stallion’s ears, sending them ringing into a state of temporary deafness. In that same moment, the wyvern was ripped from the air by a stream of brilliant orange tracer fire. At first, Blood Chit assumed that some enterprising security pony had arrived with a machinegun from the arms room, but then he realized that the slugs were a good deal larger and louder than anything they had that was intended to be wielded by ponies in the field.

He traced the path of the gunfire back to its source, and that was when he was surprised to find that somepony had been a lot more enterprising than he would have ever thought. Or, rather, somezebra had been. While his auto-rifle wasn’t powerful enough to pierce wyvern hide―and, in fact, he had his doubts about the ability of their light machine guns to do so either―the twenty-millimeter diameter slugs employed by the Phelomina’s shoulder-mounted ballistic weapons could. Designed to be capable of drilling their way through the armor of lighter combat vehicles, and shred the internal systems of BattleSteeds, the automatic weapons had little trouble with an organic target.

The wyvern screamed and wailed over the din of the gunfire, but only briefly. Its body was pummeled limply to the deck by the tracers, which continued to brutalize the corpse for several seconds after it had ceased to move. Either for prudence sake, or out of a sense of anger and vengeance, Blood Chit wasn’t prepared to say of the striped ‘Steed pilot. Either way, the pegasus approved.

“Medic!” he screamed once the Philomena had ceased firing, though he could barely hear his own voice over the ringing in his ears. He hoped that everypony else wasn’t nearly as deafened as he had been, “get a medic here! Somepony call Doc Dee!”

He dove for the slingtail’s prone figure, his eyes glued to the wounds on its back and belly. Each was about the length of his own leg. He was at a loss for how he was even supposed to staunch the bleeding from injuries that large, on a creature that was a dozen times his size! They certainly weren’t getting anything that big into the infirmary…

“Hold on, Slip; we’ll figure something out,” he assured the changeling, his mind still grappling with where he was even supposed to begin…

The slingtail groaned, coughed, and then grunted. Its body erupted into green flames, startling the feathered stallion. A second later, he was looking down at the―much more manageable-sized―body of a changeling laying in a pool of red blood that was slowing mixing with green ichor. Blood Chit alit on the deck beside his friend, but again found himself at a loss as his efforts to control the bleeding saw his hooves sliding almost uselessly over the changeling’s blood-slicked carapice. How was he supposed to apply pressure to a wound on a semi-rigid shell?!

“Medic!” he screamed again, much more urgently this time. He had a basic knowledge of first aid procedures, but those had been focused more towards treating ponies and the other common races inhabiting the Harmony Sphere. Did changelings even have arteries that he could apply pressure to to stem the flow of blood? If so, he certainly had no concept of where they were located.

He wasn’t even sure that either of the ship’s duty medics would realistically be able to do any more than he was now. It wasn’t like they had an intimate knowledge of changeling physiology. For that matter, Blood Chit had to wonder how much help the ship’s doctor was going to end up being. Would Dee really know how to put a changeling back together who was hurt this badly?

He tried not to think about that too much. The pegasus didn’t want to believe that nothing could be done to help the ‘Steed pilot.

“No pressure, buddy,” the pegasus stallion said, still fumbling over the openings in the changeling’s shell as he tried to keep as much of the green liquid from getting out as he could, “but it’d really help me out if you made yourself into a pony again. I have no clue what I’m doing here!” he tried pressing his wings up against the wounds as well to see if that would help. It was honestly hard to tell if it did anything more than just get his feathers soaked with ichor.

The changeling didn’t respond. Not so much as a grunt.

“Slip?” Blood Chit spared a glance at the changeling’s head, but found it laying limply in the pool of blood that was getting progressively greener by the second, “Slipshod; stay with me!” the stallion tried to check for a pulse with one of his pinions, but couldn’t feel anything. He convinced himself that didn’t mean anything. After all, he was trying to search for an artery he wasn’t even sure existed, beneath a hide that was far more rigid than pony flesh and likely wouldn’t allow for a palpable carotid pulse to be felt even if there was an artery there.

He hoped that was the case.

“MEDIC!”

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