“I don’t suppose the expression, ‘if something seems too good to be true, it probably is’ existed in your time; did it, Your Highness?”

The Once and Current Princess of what might one day become the Second Celestia League looked away from the video feed on the monitor in order to briefly scowl at the commanding general of her recently acquired military. Not that any of what was currently bothering the alicorn was in any way Mayhem’s fault, of course. Twilight instantly regretted taking out even that tiny amount of her frustrations on the fuschia unicorn mare, but it was getting difficult for her to keep herself fully composed after the events of the last few hours.

Mostly because Twilight had a distinct loathing for being led around by her nose in order to accomplish somepony else’s objectives. Or, as this specific case might be: somehippogriff’s. Perhaps what annoyed her even more was that all of General Triton’s scheming appeared to be having the effect of making Twilight’s goals easier to accomplish!

It wasn’t that she loathed somecreature being helpful―far from it! However, she at least would have preferred to have some amount of say as to the quantity and quality of the ‘help’ being provided.

“I’ll admit that the general has been a lot more conniving than I might have expected, based on his dossier,” there was another brief aside glance at the unicorn at the mention of the intelligence which Mayhem’s agents had gathered on the hippogriff they now had in their custody, “But the fact remains that he seems to be cooperating with us.”

“The ‘seems to be’ part is what concerns me,” Mayhem grumbled as she too looked back at the monitor. The unicorn mare chose to overlook the slight against her operative’s intelligence efforts where Triton’s personality was concerned. The fact was that those reports were considerably out of date, seeing as how the Red Reiver commander had ceased to be a significant concern regarding their Harmony Sphere operations for some time. Who was to say what ruling over a band of marauders did to a creature’s temperament?

“I don’t suppose you’re getting any Pinkie Senses about him?”

Mayhem shook her head, “It doesn’t quite work that way, Your Highness,” she said, “All I can tell you for sure is that he probably won’t kill us all in the next thirty seconds,” the mare flashed a lopsided smile at the alicorn.

“Good to know,” Twilight replied in a droll tone. The purple princess took a deep breath and sighed, “Then I guess it’s going to be up to our resident changeling to figure out what’s going on.”

As though on cue, the display screen showed that a second figure had entered the small interrogation room. The amber hued earth pony stallion stepped over and took a seat opposite the hippogriff and began speaking…

“―eetings, my name is Commander Slipshod,” the stallion began in an even tone, his gave locked on the older hippogriff sitting unconcerned on the other side of the table, “I’ll be conducting your debriefing.”

General Triton snorted derisively, “Don’t tack it up, boy. You can call it a ‘torture session’. I’m a big ‘griff; I can handle it.”

Slipshod kept his expression passive as he digested the response, and compared it against what the hippogriff Reiver wasn’t saying. While the bluster might suggest that the―now former―general wasn’t concerned about the process or outcome of the interview, the changeling was acutely aware of Triton’s deeper feelings of apprehension. Despite whatever his features were showing, the hippogriff was feeling the next best thing to terror, deep down. The fact that those darker emotions contained hints of attachment and even love suggested that Triton was afraid for somecreature besides himself.

However, the changeling also noted that those fears of Triton’s weren’t being directed in his direction. He genuinely wasn’t particularly worried about what Slipshod might do to him. He was mindful of what might happen to those he cared about as the result of somecreature else’s actions. The question there was whether he was worried about what other Reivers might do to his loved ones, or…

Slipshod played a hunch, “Neither General Mayhem or Princess Twilight permit tortute aboard the Maelstrom,” he assured the hippogriff.

As he’d suspected, there was a marked ratcheting up of those suppressed fears at the mention of the WarShip. Though it was quickly tamped down and none of it showed outwardly on his beaked face. Slipshod filed the observation away to be added later in his report to the princess and moved on to the questions that he’d prepared for the interview, “Using a remoted ‘Steed for a duel is pretty dirty,” He said aloud, “Probably right up a pirate’s alley though,” Slipshod amended with a shrug.

He felt Triton’s ire raise at the insinuation that he’d intended to cheat in what was supposed to be an otherwise honorable fight, but once more the hippogriff made an effort to keep any outward appearances of those feelings suppressed, saying only, “It was insurance; and not against your princess.”

“Right,” Slipshod nodded, “You were trying to bait your lieutenants. It’s clear that you surrounded yourself with quality officers…” The golden stallion didn’t bother hiding the biting sarcasm in his tone, as he was once more trying to provoke another reaction from the hippogriff.

Triton chose to take the bait, glaring at the pony sitting across from him, “They were decent at their jobs,” he defended stiffly, “It’s hard enough to find competent ‘Steed pilots out in the Periphery as it is, let alone ones who can think tactically enough to be leaders. As long as I kept the money coming in, they stayed loyal enough.”

Slipshod could taste the resentment. Not directed at him, or the question, though. Instead, the general seemed to be taking exception to himself, or at least the situation that he was in. Hardly surprising, the changeling supposed. The general’s prior vocation in the Combine’s own military would have seen him surrounded by more patriotic-minded souls. Pilots who were fighting for more than just money. Where the only backstabbing that he’d have to concern himself with was of the political kind in order to secure promotions or transfers to more desirable postings.

Such Harmony Sphere machinations were rarely lethal though, just inconvenient. Meanwhile, infighting among raiders and bandits could easily turn deadly where wrestling for control of a group was concerned. As had been the case earlier that day.

“How much resistance to Princess Twilight’s assumption of control do you anticipate from the rank and file of the Reivers?” Slipshod asked.

“That’s going to depend on your princess,” Triton responded grimly, leveling his gaze at the stallion, “A lot of them won’t care who they’re fighting for―or against―so long as they and their families are comfortable. They’re loyalties are pretty malleable like that. However, if she tries to take too much away from them, they’ll fight back.”

Slipshod kept his features impassive as he made a notation on his datapad. To the hippogriff, it likely seemed as though he was jotting down the general’s response. In a way, he was. Though what he was recording was actually Triton’s feelings of fear at the thought of how many might die in the efforts to subdue any sort of general resistance to Twilight’s control over the raiders.

“Would you be willing to produce a list of Reiver ‘Steed pilots who participated in the slaughter of civilians?”

“...That’s going to be a long list,” The hippogriff replied soberly.

“Is your name going to be on it?”

There was a moment of hesitation as a knot of fear formed in the general’s gut. He suppressed it quickly though, and then replied with a soft, “Yes.”

The changeling regarded the Reiver for a few seconds, taking a thorough read on the hippogriff’s emotional state. He was obviously concerned about the likely consequences he might face as a result of his admission, yes; but just beneath that fear was a thin veneer of regret. Not for his answer, but for the deaths. Nor did Slipshod get the feeling that Triton was feeling remorse for killing any specific creatures directly. It was a more generalized guilt than that.

He was holding himself responsible for the deaths that had resulted from the actions of other Reivers, as they had clearly been acting on his orders.

There was a brief internal struggle within the ‘griff as denial tried to do battle with that remorse; but his guilt won out in the end. The general had clearly been struggling for a long while with trying to justify his actions, and the broader actions of the Red Reivers, for a while now; but he kept circling back to the same conclusion: the civilian casualties were ultimately his responsibility, whatever facade he might try to hide them behind in order to escape culpability.

Slipshod made a note of this too. It was a pressure point that could be used to convince Triton to support them: offering him an opportunity to demonstrate contrition for the death’s he was holding himself responsible for, and perhaps achieve some measure of penance.

“Let’s move on to materials,” the earth pony said, sounding as though he was changing tacks, “How many ‘Steeds, approximately, do the Reivers have in operation…”

Several hours later, Slipshod was sitting in the small conference room aboard the Maelstrom with Twilight, Mayhem, and Squelch in attendance. The room in question was intended for the commanding admiral of whatever fleet that the WarShip was leading to be able to confer with her staff officers during various mission planning meetings. To that end, it was mostly serving in its intended capacity as the changeling―no longer wearing his pony disguise―delivered his findings after completing his interview with Triton.

“He’s terrified,” Slipshod began, his chitinous lips pulled taught in a frown, “And he’ll do whatever he thinks he has to to keep you happy,” He informed the purple alicorn sitting across the table from him. The changeling slid his datapad towards her, which was quickly enveloped in Twilight’s telekinesis, “This is a list of every Reiver that has had a hoof in the slaughter of civilians.”

The alicorn princess regarded the―soberingly long―list of names, saying nothing at the moment.

Mayhem spoke up though, “No doubt it’s a list of more of his opponents,” the fuschia unicorn grunted.

“His own name’s on it,” Twilight said, passing the tablet to the Disciple general, who took it in her own magic as her features twisted with surprise. The alicorn resumed looking at Slipshod, gesturing for him to continue his report.

“He acknowledges his responsibility in those deaths. He regrets them, after a fashion,” The changeling explained, “But has consistently tried to convince himself that it’s just ‘the price of doing business’.”

“There’s a difference between accidental collateral damage and what happened on Capensis,” Squelch pointed out, an edge in her voice. The mercenary commander was no stranger to the concept of non-combatant casualties. Every contract that they took as the aggressor had the potential to lead to civilian deaths, no matter what precautions they might take to prevent them. That was one thing.

However, she was also well aware that there were mercenary groups out there which actively encouraged their pilots to cause as much wanton destruction of a given target area as possible, with the intent of ‘sending a message’ on behalf of their employer. Whether such a message was specifically requested or not. Squelch was of the mind that there was no regard low enough in which she could hold such organizations.

She had routinely stressed to the pilots under her employ that outright seeking to kill civilians was a non-negotiable cause for immediate termination. She couldn’t ‘blacklist’ such individuals within the Mercenary Review Board; not in her own capacity anyway. However, she could keep track of what contracts such pilots were taking with their new employers, and leak their identities to the personnel of any facility that they were stationed at who might have known one of the pilot’s previous victims.

Showers could be slippery places. Ponies feel and hit their heads on occasion. Sometimes even with lethal results. Such things happened, and who was to say really how many times their head had been struck was a ‘reasonable’ number where ‘falling’ in a shower was concerned?

Slipshod nodded in agreement, “And he knows that deep down.”

“So why allow it to happen?” Mayhem challenged, putting the pad down.

“It’s not so much a question of ‘allowing’ it; and more a matter of not being in a strong enough position to stop it―at least in his mind,” The changeling explained, “The Red Reivers aren’t a professional organization, like a standing army―or even a mercenary outfit. Their command structure is a lot more...fluid,” he said with a wave of his hoof.

“He’s their leader only so long as the Reivers keep bringing in plenty of wealth and avoid taking unacceptable losses,” He paused briefly and sighed, “And so long as the majority of the pilots are enjoying their time in the Reivers.

“If they aren’t enjoying themselves, they don’t exactly tender their resignation. At least, not with a written notice,” He flashed a wry smirk at the other mares.

“In his defense―such as there is of it―Triton’s foremost desire is for the worlds they’re preying upon to pay the ‘protection fees’ the Reivers demand of them. He, personally, would rather not have to conduct ‘reprisal raids’,” The changeling sensed and headed off the objection that Mayhem was about to raise as the unicorn opened her mouth, “And he does have to,” he informed her, “or he’ll lose the confidence of the other Reivers and risk getting deposed. Then somecreature else more bloodthirsty than he is might come into the picture.”

“He sees himself as the ‘lesser evil’,” Twilight concluded.

“For the most part.”

“Is he?”

Slipshod shrugged and shook his head, “That I can’t say for certain; not without interviewing any of the remaining likely contenders among the Reiver leadership that might end up taking his place if he was removed. He certainly believes he is though. And if those three pilots who attacked us after the duel are any indication, he very well may be,” He saw the alicorn nod in acceptance of the answer.

“Can we trust him to trot the line if we leave him in charge?” Mayhem asked, sounding doubtful.

“So long as the Maelstrom’s in orbit, Triton will do whatever we tell him,” Slipshod said, “Like I told you: he’s terrified. He knows what a WarShip like this one can do to a planet’s population, and there are creatures down there that he genuinely cares about. Likely a family of some sort. He’ll do whatever he has to to keep them alive.”

Twilight was grimacing now, and the changeling could feel the disappointment emanating from the purple mare, “Not exactly the kind of ‘Loyalty’ I’d hoped for,” The alicorn muttered.

“You’re not going to receive better from murderers like the Reivers,” Mayhem pointed out, drawing an annoyed look from her monarch, though it was short-lived as Twilight was forced to concede the point.

“Still,” the alicorn princess said, “At the end of the day, obedience gained at the point of a spear only goes as far as the spear does; and the Maelstrom can’t stay parked in orbit of Peregrine forever. Besides, I’d never actually order such a thing in the first place,” she admitted.

“I don’t want the creatures following me doing so under false pretences. Especially when that pretence is fear,” Twilight’s features twisted in disgust at the very thought, “I won’t to sink to Chrysalis’ level in order to defeat her.”

“It could be our only option, Your Highness” General Mayhem cautioned her new monarch, “You were right that it’s not enough for us to take their DropShips; the Disciples don’t have enough experienced ship crews to operate them. We’re going to need Reivers to work for us; and we need them to cooperate long enough to complete the mission.

“Holding their families hostage would accomplish that.”

“No,” Twilight snapped, glaring now at the fuschia mare, “I refuse to go that route. Any Reiver working with us has to be doing so voluntarily.”

“Good luck getting ‘volunteers’ while you’ve got the Maelstrom,” Squelch chimed in again, drawing the attention of the other two mares, “Like Slips said: Triton’s already feeling coerced, and you haven’t even explicitly told him that he’s being pressed into your service. If you send him off to get you some Reivers to crew those DropShips, I can guarantee you that they’re also going to be operating under the assumption that the lives of their families are in balance, whether you come out and say it or not.”

“The whole reason for bringing the Maelstrom in the first place was to basically scare the Reivers into surrendering,” Mayhem reminded the princess, “Well, mission accomplished: they’re scared. However much you might want to, it’s not going to be easy to convince anycreature down there that this WarShip was just ‘for show’; especially after we also demonstrated what just a few shots from our autocannons can do to a surface target.”

Slipshod watched the purple alicorn’s head fall into her hooves as she was forced to recognized the truth of the general’s words; internally bemoaning how her efforts of avoid the excessive bloodshed of an outright conquest had also managed to undermine her desire for untainted cooperation from the locals. She resented even more that there was likely nothing that she could do about it in the immediate future. Nor was it likely that she could undo the damage that she’d done in a timely enough fashion to matter.

While their backs weren’t up against the wall quite yet where the timetable for their objective was concerned, they also didn’t exactly have the luxury of spending the next several months rehabilitating the Reivers. Not if they wanted to be able to move ahead on the hocks of the battle between ComSpark and the Clans that was growing ever more imminent.

Which meant that Twilight’s only options were to accept that any Reiver assistance would be coerced, or to try and find another source of experienced personnel to crew the DropShips. A process that could end up taking a considerable amount of time, which they didn’t have an abundance of.

Slipshod wondered how much the alicorn was willing to put at risk for the sake of adhering to those Elements of hers. From the feeling that he was getting from her, Twilight was currently debating the exact same thing.

Finally, Twilight let out an exasperated sigh, rubbing her temple with one of her hooves, “Let’s end the meeting for the day,” the purple mare said in a defeated tone, “I...need to think about some things.”

“What do you want us to do with Triton?” Mayhem asked.

The princess thought for a moment before finally saying, “Keep him on the ship for now. I’ll probably want to speak with him later.

“I’ll let you all know when I’ve decided what we’re going to do next.”

By the time Slipshod returned to the cabin aboard the Zathura, Squelch was already hunched over the small desk, peering intently at the display screen of her terminal. The sage green unicorn didn’t look up at the sound of the door opening, but she did acknowledge his return by lifting the empty coffee mug sitting beside her with her magic and extending it out towards him. Slipshod wordlessly levitated the full carafe that he’d been carrying and topped off the offered mug, which then floated back over to Squelch, who took a generous sip of the liquid.

The changeling set the carafe on the nightstand before proceeding further into the cabin towards the small private washroom on the far side. At times, Slipshod was still beset with feelings of bemusement at how seamlessly the pair of them had managed to slip back into their old routine from before the divorce. They’d been nominally estranged for over a year, but the last couple of months left him feeling a little like that had all been some sort of awkward dream. Like their time apart hadn’t been real.

Part of that was doubtlessly because their separation had largely been ‘nominal’. He and Squelch had continued to see each other almost daily, working closely together like they’d always had. All that had really changed between the two of them had been their living arrangements, and the fact that they exchanged a few more verbal barbs than usual. Other than that, the pair had maintained a pretty close working relationship for the most part.

Which meant that all that ‘getting back together’ had entailed was his moving back into her cabin.

The changeling stepped into the cramped shower stall and turned on the water. Magically heated warm water immediately began to cascade over his carapace. He glanced over to the tiny cubby containing mostly fur conditioners and levitated over a small bottle of what was essentially detergent.

Slipshod didn’t possess fur in his natural state, and so there wasn’t much point in using typical shampoos designed to tend to it. He didn’t sweat, and his chitin didn’t secrete any sort of oils that needed to be washed away. It was enough to simply apply a light cleaning detergent to help rinse away dirt and dust; not unlike what was used to clean most of the ship’s inorganic surfaces. He did at least go with one which had a pleasant scent though.

He paused briefly while washing one of his forelegs to observe his carapace. If there was one thing that he was still getting used to, it was the shift in color that he’d seemed to go through since their escape from Kiso. His carapace had used to be a dark matte gray. Now it was an almost luminescent deep jade. More puzzling was that, despite his attempts to do so, he wasn’t able to forcibly transform himself into his old appearance either. He could still effortlessly change his shape into any other creature or race...except for that of a changeling.

He’d confronted Twilight with the conundrum, and had been informed―much to his surprise―that the reason that he was no longer able to take on the appearance of his old self was because the form that he’d associated with being a ‘true’ changeling was actually a corrupted version of a changeling brought about by their transformation magic being contaminated with pilfered―and thus tainted―love. Changelings weren’t supposed to look like that at all; and had only done so because of using tainted magic.

Essentially: every changeling was casting their shapeshifting spell ‘wrong’ when they assumed their ‘real’ form.

Which meant that, in order to look like his old self, Slipshod would have to find a way to deliberately screw up the transformation; likely through trying to power it with stolen love as had always been done before.

For better or worse, the more genuine love that Slipshod was exposed to, the less like his old self―and the more like a truly Reformed Changeling―he was going to look. Though, he supposed that, in light of Twilight’s revelation to him, it was technically more correct to consider ‘Reformed’ Changelings as being actual changelings, while the alternate form was a Corrupted Changeling.

Squelch, at least, appeared to approve of the change. Though Slipshod suspected that most of that approval stemmed from the fact that he now looked almost as green as she did.

As though summoned by the changeling’s thoughts, the ship’s captain opened up the door to the shower stall and squeezed herself into its already cramped confines, inserting herself beneath the shower head and immersing herself in the warm water. Her telekinesis reached out and turned the knobs, ratcheting up the temperature a fair bit to the point where it was nearly―but not technically―scalding hot.

She picked up the bottle of her own preferred shampoo and floated it back to Slipshod, who wordlessly took it and applied a squirt to her backside as the sage green unicorn used her magic to tend to her mane, “Any luck?” Slipshod asked conversationally as he began massaging the soap into her coat.

“Not really,” Squelch sighed, “The zebras don’t have much of a merchant fleet, so there won’t be a lot of experienced DropShip crews we can recruit from them. Maybe enough for two or three ships on short notice.”

The changeling nodded, “Mayhem thinks she can scrounge up about that many additional crews, if she’d willing to divide up the existing experienced crews she has, and then flesh them out with trainees,” He suspected that the frown on his face matched the one that Mayhem had worn when the Disciple general had floated the idea. While such a move would let them crew additional DropShips, it also meant that those ships would be a lot less capable in a high-stress situation―such as inserting a strike team onto an enemy position under fire. It would be difficult enough for ponies new to the concept to operate a DropShip under ideal conditions, without also throwing in the possibility of combat into the mix. Frankly, doing that was just asking to get a lot of ponies killed.

“That leaves us with, what? Nine ships? Ten including the Zathura?”

“At the most,” Slipshod confirmed, “Which, to be fair, only one of them has to succeed for the plan to work.”

“You caught ComSpark with their saddles off and their defensive forces out of position on Colton and the relay still couldn’t be taken,” Squelch countered, “It’s going to be nearly impossible to do it if they have all their defenders present and ready.

“Honestly, striking their hidden relays is going to be more difficult than hitting the ones on the Primary Circuit in some cases,” the mare continued, starting to rinse out her mane, “The Primary Circuit relays are out in the open, and vulnerable to attack from all sides. The secret ones are almost all buried in mountains or underground, right? Which means the entrance is a bottleneck for us.

“But those public relays are fortified to tartarus and back. A single DropShip worth of ‘Steeds and soldiers might not be enough to break through their defenses in time to keep them from breaching their reactor cores.

“We’re going to want dozens of teams operating nearly simultaneously, just to be safe. We only get one shot at this.”

Slipshod was forced to concede the point. The more teams they had conducting raids on HSGs, the better; and fewer than a dozen may very well not be enough to guarantee that at least one of them reached the core of the facility and uploaded the virus.

Squelch turned around and sat under the shower head, letting the hot water start to rinse away the suds from her mane and coat. The expression she was looking at the changeling with approached resignation, “I just don’t know where we’re going to get the crews for the ships we need if not from the Reivers; and I don’t see how we’ll be able to get the Reivers on board without threats. We can’t trust them without some kind of collateral keeping them in line.”

He sighed, a frown plainly visible on his face as he considered problem facing them, “Twilight won’t go for it,” he informed her, “She plans on telling Triton tomorrow that, under no circumstances, will she bomb any target from orbit that isn’t presenting an active military threat to Disciple groups working with the DropShips.

“And that nocreature down there has to help us if they don’t want to.”

“She’s going to let them off the hook entirely,” the sage mare didn’t sound entirely pleased about the notion. Then added after a brief moment’s thought, “Not that it’s our job―or business―to go around meting out justice, or whatever. We came here for ships and material.”

Slipshod nodded in agreement, “That’s about how she feels, yeah. She doesn’t like the idea, mind you. If we had the time, I think that Twilight would genuinely prefer to stay on Peregrine and try to rehabilitate every raider down there; even if it took generations.”

“One of the perks of being an immortal alicorn princess, I guess,” Squelch snorted, smirking wryly at the stallion, “It probably would take generations, honestly,” she added in a more melancholy tone, “I don’t even want to think about how long it would take to get the whole galaxy back to the way things used to be under the Celestia League. Centuries, maybe? A millenia?”

Again the changeling was nodding, “I believe it took decades for her to unite just Equus. And that was just one world. The Sphere has thousands.”

“So, tens of millenia then,” she corrected, shaking her head, “Why even bother at that point?”

“It’s important to her. Fixing things. Getting them back to how she remembers them; where everycreature was safe and happy,” Slipshod shrugged, “There’s worse ways to spend eternity than trying to make your dream come true.”

“I guess,” Squelch acknowledged the point with a sigh. She cast her gaze downward now and Slipshod felt one of her hooves wrap around his and lift it up, bringing the deep jade green chitinous limb up for closer inspection. Her other hoof traced its way over the leg’s shell. The changeling simply watched in silence, taking careful note of the swirling emotions within the unicorn.

In many ways, Squelch was still getting used to his ‘new’ self too; and Slipshod didn’t just mean the color change that he’d recently undergone. Despite his offer to maintain his earth pony disguise when they were together, she’d insisted that he didn’t need to do that. That, if they really were going to make things work between them again, he had to be his real self from now on.

Besides, Squelch had pointed out with a malicious smile, his earth pony form wasn’t nearly as ‘ruggedly handsome’ as he’d thought it was.

That didn’t mean that she found his natural state more appealing though. He knew that she wasn’t actively repulsed by it either, at least. It was simply...different. Something to get used to, like a fresh beard or a new manestyle. It was simply aesthetic, and didn’t change who a creature was inside.

After what felt like a minute of quiet contemplation, Squelch released the changeling’s limb and looked back up at him, a small smile on her face, “I really missed this, you know? The two of us, talking things over like this, working the problem. We didn’t always come up with the perfect solution,” she added by way of a qualifier, prompting a snort of agreement from Slipshod, “But we didn’t need ‘perfect’.”

This time it wasn’t his hoof that the unicorn reached for, but his cheek; drawing the changeling in for a kiss. This too was still taking a little getting used to. Changeling mouths weren’t quite as supple as pony ones, after all. But, like Squelch had said: they weren’t shooting for ‘perfect’. Which didn’t seem to create much of an issue, judging by the amount of love that Slipshod could feel flowing into him through their embrace.

The stallion was far more judicious with the emotions that he gathered from others these days. Though he still found himself briefly fighting his initial apprehension at the thought, thanks to a lifetime spent considering the notion to be anathema to his very nature as a changeling. However, overcoming that niggling little initial bout of anxiety was getting progressively easier as time went on. Indeed, Slipshod didn’t even find himself hesitating for more than a heartbeat to siphon off a tiny portion of the love that Squelch was feeding him for himself, and then returning the rest of it right back into the unicorn, buttressed by his own feelings for her.

Their embrace gradually became more passionate as both of their feelings for one another were harmonically reinforced by the act. The pair had discovered, on more than one occasion, that when a changeling was involved, a little peck on the cheek had the potential to quite easily escalate into a marathon of passion. Not that either complained much. At least, not in the moment. The smells, mess, dehydration, and chaffing, that both of them experienced the following morning was significantly less enjoyable though; if no less worthwhile.

Through a force of will that Slipshod greatly admired in the sage green mare, Squelch―very reluctantly―managed to pull herself away from the changeling. If only just to catch her breath. Her magic finally shut off the flow of water from the showerhead; and while she didn’t resume their embrace, she did lean her head against his chest. Slipshod took her into his hooves, and the pair sat in the cozy little stall, still dripping wet, for some time.

As had happened on occasion before, the changeling felt Squelch’s thoughts turn more melancholy. He’d noticed a tendency for this to happen after they’d been intimate. She’d never said anything about what prompted those thoughts, and anytime that he’d asked if she was feeling alright, the unicorn would simply respond that she was ‘fine’. She was perfectly well aware, of course, that he knew she wasn’t. Whatever was bothering her though, she obviously didn’t want to share with him, and he was willing to respect her privacy.

This time though, it seemed that the mare had decided that her thoughts needed to be voiced aloud, “When this is all over, which of us are you going to choose?”

Slipshod blinked in confusion, glancing down at the unicorn. However, she didn’t meet his gaze, staring instead off at something that only she could see. At least she seemed to sense that he needed more context for her question and elaborated for him, “When this is over―and if we survive―you’re right that Twilight’s going to have a lot of work ahead of her.

“Work that I’m not sure I want to be a part of. I can’t promise you that I’ll keep following Twilight. She’s just a client, and we’re just under contract with her. When the Irregulars and I leave...are you going to be coming with us?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I’ve seen the way you are with Twilight―”

“It’s not like that,” Slipshod said, almost automatically, vehement in his denial of any indiscretion, “I would never even think about―”

“Shut up, you dumb bug,” Squelch snorted, half amused and half annoyed, giving the changeling a playful swat on the chest with her hoof, “I know you’re not cheating on me; that’s not what I meant. I’m talking about how passionate you are about defeating Chrysalis.

“I know that most of that is because she fucked you over and you want her to pay; I can respect that as much as the next mercenary. But I also know that there’s more to it,” she continued, pulling back now so that she could look up into his face. Slipshod could both feel and see her obvious concern now. Concern that she might lose him, “I’ve heard how you talk about those ‘Elements’ of hers lately. About being honest and upfront with others.

“You’re becoming a True Believer; I can see it. What you do for her is more than I’ve ever seen you do for another client; and it’s way more than you have to do to bring down Chrysalis.

“It’s not exactly surprising,” she scoffed, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed that she hasn’t taken a special interest in you too. She’s turned you into some sort of ‘project’, or something; and I’d say it’s working out for her,” He could feel the mare’s budding ire towards the alicorn mounting. Seeming to recognize the feeling within herself, Squelch fought it back down, looking away as she took a moment to once more collect herself.

“Now you admire her,” she finally said, almost timidly, “You admire what she wants to do for the galaxy.”

Slipshod said nothing as the unicorn spoke, recognizing that everything Squelch was saying was accurate. He’d done quite a lot to help Twilight and her cause; risked much more than might strictly have been necessary in order to merely achieve a military victory against his former queen. Nor could he deny that he was motivated exclusively by simple revenge any longer. He obviously still wanted Chrysalis to lose everything she had; but these days he also found himself wanting more. He was finally starting to look beyond victory, towards what would inevitably come after it.

“So I want to know: Would you go with her, if she asked you to?”

He didn’t respond immediately. Mostly because he wasn’t sure of his answer. He’d never really considered it before; but he did now. Would he be tempted to remain at Twilight’s side after the conquest of Equus and aid in her crusade to reform the other creatures of the galaxy the way that she’d been working to reform him? Probably.

That realization caused the changeling to inwardly flinch. Because he fully recognized that it was the response Squelch was afraid that she’d get. It also wasn’t the one that she wanted.

“...You want to help her, don’t you?”

Slipshod sighed and looked down at the unicorn with a wan smile, “I thought I was the empath here?” he managed an amused chuckle, though it lasted for only a brief moment before he let his own sense of her budding disappointment drown it, “It’s...not that simple.”

“Isn’t it?” She countered, her words growing hard now, her eyes cold as she struggled to contain her feelings of resentment from showing overtly, despite what she knew he could feel from her regardless, “You don’t owe her anything,” Squelch insisted, “You could stay with me; if that was what you really wanted.”

The hurt in both the mare’s words, and the pain that she was fighting to keep hidden were almost too much for the changeling. He stepped closer to her, shaking his head, “No! That’s not what I mean,” he assured her, reaching out a tentative hoof to her cheek, “You know that I care about you,” he reminded her, “I know you can feel it every time we touch.”

Even as he spoke, Slipshod allowed for a trickle of his love for her to bleed into the unicorn. In response, the mare turned her face into his hoof, relishing its touch. Though it only seemed to add to the pain that she was feeling as she recognized that he did feel that strongly about their relationship...and yet was still contemplating abandoning it.

“And the reason that you can…” The stallion continued, “Is a big part of why I think I need to help her.

“I’m not the same ‘ling that I was before we met Twilight. Because of her―because of what she taught me―I know I’m better than I was. I know that I’m stronger than I was.

“I’ve come to realize that that wasn’t a coincidence,” His own words had an edge to them now, though none of the mounting antipathy had anything even remotely to do with Squelch. Every ounce of his contempt was reserved exclusively for his former queen, “Chrysalis knows full well that changelings―as a race―would be stronger, and better off, living the way Twilight’s showed me.

“But, instead, she lies to us. Corrupts us. Raises us to be monsters. All so that we’ll feel dependent on her leadership and guidance―so that she can feel more powerful than she knows she is.

“She’s been manipulating my whole race, using us to torment the galaxy and everycreature in it for her own sense of sadistic pleasure,” the changeling was actively seething now at the thought. It had been bad enough when Slipshod had held Chrysalis in contempt for the wrongs that she’d committed against him specifically. Now that he’d acquired a genuine sense of compassion for others since learning to share his emotions, he’d begun to feel that same ire on behalf of the millions of changelings who didn’t know what he did. Who were trapped in servitude to a banal and corrupting ‘queen’ without realizing what she was depriving them of as a result of the ignorance she forced upon them!

“Defeating Chrysalis won’t be enough,” he explained, “Without the proper guidance―without an example of what they could be―the changelings that survive will still think the way that she’s taught them to. They’ll still be out there, manipulating creatures and creating animosity in order to gain the power and control that they’ve been taught to believe they need in order to survive!

“I can prove to them that there’s a better way for changelings to live. I can show them that we’re better off without the lies that Chrysalis fed us,” Slipshod took hold of Squelch’s shoulders with his hooves, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“You want to help the Sphere too, right?” He reminded the unicorn mare, “Well that’s the way we could do it! Spread the Elements, teach creatures Harmony―really work to make a difference!”

Squelch sighed, “It’s not going to be that simple, Slip, and you know it. One little ‘Steed company can’t change anything; it never has―”

“Because Chrysalis never let it!” The changeling interjected, “Of course it seems like nothing can change the galaxy, because changelings have been working constantly to make sure things don’t change! That’s the whole point,” he reminded her, “But when Chrysalis is gone, and the changelings aren’t calling the shots behind the scenes anymore, then things can finally start to change.

“One company―or even just one little lance―of BattleSteed pilots in the right place, at the right time, could end up changing the fates of billions of lives for the better,” Squelch actually started to find herself being drawn up into the changeling’s monologue. The unicorn mare felt herself being almost overcome with a sense of confidence that she couldn’t recall experiencing since she’d first founded the Steel Coursers all those years ago. Slipshod’s determination and optimism was intoxicating, “It happened once before, you know? When a group of changeling-piloted BattleSteeds chased Twilight away from her meeting with the leader of the Lunar Republic, it set in motion the chain of events that brought us here.

“Who’s to say we couldn’t nudge things back in the other direction? Help me be that ‘nudge’, Squelch. Help Twilight―help us―fix the galaxy!”

Squelch sat and stared at the changeling, speechless. The sage green mare was just about to agree with him and take the stallion up on his offer, but then she caught herself. There was no doubt in her mind that she was feeling caught up in the moment, but that was no reason to make a rash decision, no matter how much the notion of dedicating her life to undoing the damage caused by Chrysalis appealed to her―

Wait. Did that notion appeal to her? Why was she so personally offended by the damage caused by Chrysalis? She’d never even heard that name until a few months ago, and had long since rationalized that she didn’t actually care who was manipulating the political strings behind the scenes. Whether it was a giant bug queen, or the allegedly benevolent Twilight Sparkle, it was Squelch’s experience that political leaders rarely felt genuine empathy for the denizens they nominally ruled over. It was one of the reasons that she’d taken it upon herself to try and improve the stella-political situation of the galaxy through the independent contracting she did. If the unicorn had believed that any one leader was genuinely morally superior to another, she’d have signed an exclusive contract with one of the major star nations years ago.

The unicorn mare blinked and then shook her head, clearing it. No, shit didn’t care about Chrysalis. So why had she felt like she did just now?

She narrowed her gaze at Slipshod, “...Can you push emotions other than love into ponies?”

“Huh?” The stallion looked genuinely startled by the question, “I mean, yeah. An emotion’s an emotion. Love, hate, sadness; if I can siphon it, I can push it,” He answered absently, seemingly oblivious to what might have prompted the mare to ask him about that facet of his empathic abilities, “Why―? Oh, fuck!” The changeling withdrew his hooves from Squelch’s shoulders as though he’d been burned, glancing in a near panic between the sage mare and his offending limbs.

“You bastard,” Squelch seethed at the changeling. Her magic reached out and wrenched open the small sliding door to the shower stall, very nearly dislodging it entirely, before shoving her way forcefully past the changeling. After a shocked pause, Slipshod clambered out after her, nearly slipping on the wet spots left on the floor by Squelch’s sopping wet tail.

“Wait!” He sputtered, “I’m sorry! I didn’t even know I was doing that, I swear!” He vehemently insisted.

The sage green unicorn ignored him, her telekinesis snagging a couple of towels off of a nearby rack. One wrapped itself around her mane while the other proceeded to begin drying her barrel. The changeling dashed in front of her, forcing her attention even as he continued to plead with the mare, “Squelch, please. You have to belie―”

“I can’t believe you tried to manipulate me like that!” She sputtered, her fury plain and evident in her features as she glared at the changeling, “Is that what you’ve been doing this whole time?! Making me think I loved you, you piece of shit?!”

“No!” His vehement denial was both loud―and visceral―enough to give the sage mare pause despite her agitated state, “It doesn’t work like that,” Slipshod assured her in a much more controlled tone after a brief pause, “Yes, I can push emotions into somepony, but I can’t actually ‘manipulate’ how they feel,” The changeling assured her.

“You just found why that can’t happen,” He pointed out, “You felt my hate for Chrysalis, yes; but you immediately realized that you didn’t hate her the way that I do, and so the emotion didn’t ‘stick’. Changelings can control the flow of emotions, not thoughts.”

Slipshod reached out a hoof to caress Squelch’s cheek once more, but the mare flinched away. The feelings of anger and distrust weren’t quite as strong as they had been before, but they still simmered in the background of her mind, much to the stallion’s disappointment. His features visibly wilted, “I can make you feel my love for you; but I can’t ‘create’ any feelings you have for me. Those are your own. They always have been.

Squelch continued to glare at him for several more seconds as her emotions continued to settle. Eventually though, she managed a resigned sigh, finally seeming to be over the shock of it all, “It was just...weird to feel something that strongly that didn’t make any sense to me,” she admitted, “Sorry if I overreacted.”

“I don’t think you did,” Slipshod assured her, relief evident on his own face, “I get that we have a...not exactly ‘great’ history where my regard for your feelings is concerned,” he managed a wan smile as the mare rolled her eyes at him, “I genuinely didn’t mean to let those feelings out,” He assured her once more, “But, again: Nothing I let you feel is capable of actually changing how you feel.

“Unless you’re already inclined to feel that way,” He amended after a brief moment’s thought, flashing the mare a mischievous grin, “Which is why when we kiss and I feed you a little love we―”

“Yeah, yeah; you’re a real smooth operator,” Squelch rolled her eyes once more, in an even more exaggerated fashion even as she tried to keep herself from blushing upon recalling how often mere kissing led to more vigorous bedroom antics, “But even if those emotions don’t take, I’d still prefer you not saddle me with your baggage, fair enough?”

It was only now that Squelch realized that Slipshod had actually ceased paying her any attention, his eyes wide as he stared off into the distance, slack-jawed, “...Slip?”

He looked at her now, though his expression still testified to the fact that the changeling had clearly been subjected to an epiphany of some sort, “I know how to recruit the Reivers.”

“Huh?”

“I know how we can find out which Reivers would be willing to help without needing to be coerced!” The changeling repeated with considerably more enthusiasm. Without warning, he reached out and took Squelch up in a rather strenuous embrace. Though initially shocked, it didn’t take long for the influx of emotion to prompt the unicorn to more vigorously reciprocate. Managing to leave her with a feeling of disappointment when Slipshod broke off the kiss just as abruptly, “Thanks for the idea; I need to go find Twilight!”

Her irritation had returned, “Really? You’re just going to kiss me like that then rush off to see another mare?”

Slipshod stopped short at the door, blinking as he looked back at the obviously disapproving unicorn. He pondered over his response for several moments before blurting out, “...apparently!” Before dashing out of the cabin and into the DropShip’s corridor.

Squelch continued to glare at the empty doorway for several seconds until the door finally closed automatically behind him. She closed her eyes and let out a long-suffering sigh, “He’s so fucking lucky I love him,” she grumbled before returning to drying herself.

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

I've set up a Cover Art Fund if you're interested and have any bits lying around!