Twilight looked out over the broken hulk of the Maelstrom as it was slowly eased into the slipway. It had taken many weeks to run down the ballistic wreck of the WarShip that had once been the pride of the Disciples of Discord. A bleak hoofful of survivors had been recovered from the ship, all on the verge of death by the time the Search and Rescue teams had managed to finally reach them. It was yet to be determined if all of those who had been rescued would ultimately survive.

The Maelstrom and her crew were hardly unique in that way. Many scores of WarShip, on both sides, had been pounded into drifting hulks by the battles that had taken place in the Faust System. Some of them could be salvaged and repaired, but many more would simply be broken up for parts and scrap. This particular dreadnought had the dubious honor of being part of the former group. The late General Mayhem’s flagship was as tough as they came, and while it had been mercilessly beaten on by the ComSpark fleet, there yet remained enough of it intact that the yard hooves hadn’t immediately written the ship off as a lost cause. They would do their best to recover her.

The purple alicorn felt her lip curl up with mild amusement. While it was a long-standing tradition to bestow feminine pronouns on space-faring vessels, Twilight couldn’t help but feel that such an observance might be a little misplaced in this instance. Where this specific ship was concerned anyway. It was something of a ‘special case’, after all.

She looked back at the pair of Battle Armored Elemental bodyguards which had been assigned to her as a protection detail. Even though the shipyards orbiting Equus’ moon were free of malevolent changelings now, Star Admiral Cinder was still quite anxious where her safety was concerned. In the dragoness’ defense, Twilight did acknowledge that she’d very nearly died and come within a hair’s breadth of capture not that long ago. It was likely that Cinder was going to remain skittish until her alicorn charge was back on her way to Clan territory along with the other three princesses.

Indeed, a rather large part of Twilight had very much wanted to accompany Celestia, Luna, and Cadance. Neither of the alicorns had been awoken from their slumbering state quite yet. The simple fact was that none of the medical doctors present with the fleet were specialists in the sort of care that they would need. Nothing was physically wrong with any of the other alicorns, after all. Slipshod had confirmed that their ills were all psychological, but deeply so. Centuries of mental trauma and emotional torture would doubtlessly have left a great number of wounds that would not be easily mended.

But that her dear friends had simply been physically tormented, Twilight thought bitterly to herself. Bones and flesh could be mended far more easily and quickly than the mind. Their road to recovery would not be nearly as smooth as Twilight’s had been.

Two months out of her hospital bed, and the purple mare felt as fit as she ever had. Meanwhile, those that she had come here to free might well require decades of care before they could ever feel even close to right.

It galled Twilight that she hadn’t been here to help them all those centuries ago. She’d been half a galaxy away, nearly snared in a trap set by Chrysalis. A trap which she had only very narrowly avoided thanks to the timely intervention of Discord’s Rangers. At the time, Twilight had thought the arrival of those forces as nothing more than fortuitous. However, the conversation that the alicorn had shared with General Mayhem on Havoc Station had given her cause to wonder if the presence of Discord’s own special forces hadn’t been just a little too fortuitous.

In order to know what would be least expected, you have to first know what will be at all…

This was a fascit of the draconequus that Twilight had not known about in all her time spent with the demigod. It had simply never occurred to her that Discord’s ‘zaniness’ might be anything more than mere eccentricity coupled with nigh-unlimited magical power. Even when he’d seemed to know and understand things that it didn’t seem like he should have at the time, it wasn’t like she hadn’t known other creatures with such uncanny knacks for anticipating things.

Admittedly, quite a few things made more sense to Twilight in light of the connections that she’d recently made thanks to the new information. Like Pinkie’s ‘Pinkie Sense’, and how the mare had seemed able―if only for a short while―to contain Discord’s power during their fight with Tirek, Chrysalis, and Cozy Glow. Yes, a lot of pieces were falling into place now.

Except for one.

However, the mare now had the opportunity to get that last nagging question answered.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” she calmly informed her protectors. Before either of the augmented dragons could voice their objections, the alicorn fixed them with a hard stare. “If either of you follow me, you will spend the remainder of the week as a cumquat. Is that understood?”

Both sets of powered armor immediately stiffened. One of them even took a hesitant half step back from the purple mare. “...Y-yes, princess,” one of them managed to stammer. Obviously they had weighed the consequences of crossing their charge with whatever punishment Cinder might mete out if she learned they’d let the alicorn out of their sight and had chosen the wiser course of action. At least, in Twilight’s estimation.

“Good,” Twilight nodded. Then she teleported away.

She rematerialized inside the engineering section of the derelict Maelstrom, encased in a protective amethyst bubble of energy. Ahead of her was the WarSip’s Finder-Keeper Jump Drive. To the untrained eye, it didn’t look any different to any other similar model of drive capable of moving a ship between star systems. Indeed, nothing would have seemed off about it to a trained eye either. The reason for that was a simple one: there wasn’t any difference.

An F-K Drive wasn’t capable of crossing the bridge between dimensions. Certainly not into a Chaos Realm like Havoc. No technology had ever been developed by the Celestia League which would have been capable of such a feat either…because Discord had asked her that it not be. He’d cited the inherent dangers associated with such unpredictable regions, especially where normal creatures were concerned, and Twilight had been in agreement with those concerns. Chaos Realms, as their nature implied, were powered by, well, chaos. The feats that the Disciples went to in the course of their lives on Havoc Station were done so to maintain their realm’s existence. To falter and become too ‘normal’, might mean being ejected from Havoc and ending up…somewhere. There was really no knowing.

So, because Discord had asked her not to, and because there wasn’t much of a practical benefit to creating one, Twilight had not pursued the creation of technology which could transport others to one of his realms. This meant that there were only a scant few beings in the galaxy with the magical power and knowledge to cross into such a dimension.

And two of them were in this room.

Twilight glared at the casing of the ship’s inert drive core. “...You’re really going to just sit there and pretend you don’t know why I’m here?”

For several seconds, the alicorn received no response from the jump drive. It wasn’t until she developed a low growl in her throat that Twilight finally got the reaction she had been waiting for. Mostly. Finally seeming to acknowledge that there was nothing to be gained by feigning further ignorance, a tiny little head poked out of the alloyed casing shielding the jump drive’s core.

Discord’s misshapen red and yellow eyes peered up at the much larger purple princess. He was glaring at her as well. “Are you really going to just float there and not knock? That is the polite way to get somepony’s attention, you know…”

“Discord…” Twilight said, her tone acquiring a rather sharp edge to it.

“Ah ah!” The draconequus shook a talon-tipped finger at her reprovingly. “First thing’s first.”

Before the alicorn had a chance to react, the miniature god of chaos darted out of the WarShip’s jump drive core. He zipped around the purple mare several times as he clambered his way to her neck, where he finally stopped…and threw his arms around her in a tight hug. “...I’m glad you’re alright.”

Twilight was stunned into silence. She’d come here with the intent of scolding the draconequus for his duplicity five hundred years ago, ready to hold him accountable for his actions related to Chrysalis’ ascension, and her torment of the wider galaxy. Yet…

…Discord was one of only a scant few friends who had endured the centuries with her. They’d known each other for a thousand years. And while, for her, it had only been a couple years since she’d last seen the demigod, it was likely that he had been well aware of how much time had passed. He didn’t always display his affection for others in the healthiest of ways, but Twilight was certainly able to feel how deeply he’d missed her through the force of his embrace.

Mildly deflated―but far from mollified―by the hug, Twilight reached up with a wing and used her pinions to gently pat the back of the tiny little draconequus. “I missed you too.”

Discord released his hold on the alicorn and slowly floated away, coming to a stop a short distance in front of her face. “I suspect you have a few questions?”

“A few.” Twilight confirmed, her tone more terse once more as the purpose of her visit was once more brought to the forefront.

The draconequus nodded somberly. He pulled out a desk and sat down on the other side of it from her. An unnecessarily bright lamp was hanging from…somewhere…poised just above his head such that it shone into his eyes and forced him to squint. “Let’s get this interrogation underway then. I won’t even ask for a lawyer.”

A lifetime exposed to the antics of the draconequus left Twilight unphased by his eccentricities, and so she began with her most pressing question. “Why?”

The word was almost plaintive. The alicorn was unable to keep it bereft of the betrayal that she had been nursing towards Discord since discovering that one of her dearest friends had had a hoof―or rather a paw―in Chrysalis’ rise to supremacy. Not that this would have been the first time the chaos-natured being would have played a role in bringing the realm to near ruin under the guise of trying to ‘help’―in accordance with his own convoluted logic. However, this would certainly have been the most heinous example of such misguided actions; and the alicorn would have liked to think that Discord had learned his lesson since the last occurrence.

At least the draconequus had the presence of mind to look properly remorseful. “Because it was the only way to keep the galaxy safe.”

Whatever excuse that Twilight had been expecting to hear, that had not been anywhere on the list. The purple mare merely gawked at him, not comprehending. “Safe?” She blurted, her tone rife with consternation and mounting anger. “Safe?! Do you even understand how many millions have died because of what you did?! How many trillions of creatures have suffered for the last five hundred years because of you? ‘SAFE?!’”

Discord barely even flinched away as the alicorn vented her ire. He’d clearly been ready for such a visceral reaction. Not that Twilight could think of any reaction that she could have been expected to have upon hearing such a contrary defense. If that answer had even been a ‘defense’. And yet, the little demon didn’t waiver on his position. “Yes. I know precisely how many have suffered.” He said, still meeting the mare’s furious gaze with his own much more subdued eyes.

“And I also know how many would have continued to suffer, even now, if I’d done nothing.”

Twilight’s anger became briefly clouded with confusion. Then she recalled one of the facets of Discord’s nature that she had somehow only learned of recently, despite having known him for over a millennia. She swallowed back her rage enough to settle her tone, taking a deep breath before she continued. “So, you’re telling me that you distracted me from rehabilitating Chrysalis and the others, because you predicted that I’d fail? You foresaw that I wouldn’t be able to reach them?”

“Actually, you would have done fairly well,” was the draconequus’ unexpected reply.

“Cozy Glow would have been the easiest to rehabilitate. After all, she was already an avid believer in the power of Friendship. She’d even used it to great effect working with Chrysalis and Tirek. Her only failing was her insistence on trying to direct that power inward rather than to the benefit of others. Demonstrating that she’d actually stand to benefit more by empowering those around her would have been a relatively trivial matter.

“Even Tirek could have been saved,” Discord admitted, sounding like even he was surprised to hear himself admit that much. “It would have been a more laborious effort, yes, but it was doable. Mending his relationship with his brother Scorpan would have gotten him most of the way there. In time, he would have agreed to return to his own dimension, and never would have darkened our doorstep again.

“But Chrysalis…” Discord shook his head sadly. “Once, a long time ago, she could have been saved,” he admitted, “but that time passed her by. She would never allow herself to be reformed…

“...But she would have certainly played the part,” the draconequus said in a far more dour tone. “She would have waited, biding her time, until Cozy Glow and Tirek were removed as competition. She would have feigned being your nearest and dearest friend. And you, riding high off of your recent back-to-back victories where the others were concerned, would not entertain the notion that you’d failed on your third attempt.

“Then she would have taken you by surprise. And thanks to spending years learning your mannerisms and quirks, her impersonation would not have been noticed by Spike soon enough. He would not have been able to smuggle out Flurry Heart and the CLDF forces he did. No resistance would have existed. This,” the draconequus gestured vaguely around him, “would never have been achievable. Chrysalis’ rule would have remained unchallenged until the end of time.

“Yes, Twilight, many more would have suffered if I’d not done what I did. I take no pleasure in the knowledge that my actions brought harm to so many; but it is a choice I would make again in a heartbeat.” Discord finished, fixing the alicorn with a hard look.

As Twilight digested his words, she could not help but meet his gaze…and see the pain contained there. It was an unusual sight to behold where the chaotic demigod was concerned, to be sure. While Discord was certainly prone to create amusement for himself often at the expense of others, he had not done so maliciously in quite some time. His many intimate relationships over the centuries had helped him to develop a refined sense of compassion for mortal beings, which had softened him considerably. Along with that compassion had come an aversion to seeing those beings suffer. Compared to his own eternal existence, the lives of other creatures were so short and fleeting that it seemed almost cruel to him now that they might suffer for even a brief portion of it.

While Discord might be convinced that he’d pursued the best course of action, he was not at all proud of what he had done.

“You could have warned me,” Twilight challenged, “you could have―”

“Told you what?” The draconequus countered, bitterly. “Told you that you would fail to make them your friends? The Princess of Friendship? Look me in the eye and tell me that you’d have believed me.”

Twilight disregarded the absurdly large eyeball which had extended out of Discord’s head hovering just in front of her face. It galled her slightly that he’d had a point. She wouldn’t have believed that she would fail to reform even Chrysalis. If for no other reason than it would have been tantamount to admitting that Friendship and Harmony were not nearly as powerful as she had always believed them to be―as she had been insisting to others that they were. She would have tried, no matter what Discord might have said to try and dissuade her.

Still…

“So what was I supposed to do? Leave her locked up for eternity? Kill her?”

“The former was too risky,” Discord acknowledged soberly, “and you couldn’t be allowed to do the latter, even if you could have brought yourself to do it. Which we both know you wouldn’t have.”

Twilight swallowed, hating that she was forced to acknowledge the truth of the draconequus’ assertions. She wouldn’t have allowed Chrysalis to be executed. The alicorn wasn’t convinced she’d have been able to do what Slipshod had, even after all she’d seen since being revived. There was just something…vile about ending the life of a genuinely subdued foe. It wasn’t the kind of pony she was. Not the kind of pony she ever wanted to be. It felt to her like admitting failure―that Friendship and Harmony weren’t the potent forces that she’d always proclaimed them to be.

To execute Chrysalis would have been an announcement to the universe that Friendship wasn’t always the answer. That some problems could only be solved with violence and death.

And who was to make the determination about which issues required one in lieu of the other? Who would she have been to dictate to other creatures that they’d made the wrong choice when they’d elected to kill an adversary over trying to reconcile with them? Was she to have been made the galaxy’s singular arbiter of life and death? Was that ‘ruling through Friendship’?

Yet…if it was true that Chrysalis had been beyond saving, then was Harmony really the answer she’d always thought it to be? Was it actually flawed in some way?

As if having heard her silent questions, Discord spoke up. “You did fail Chrysalis,” he informed her, stunning the alicorn. However, his tone had not been accusatory, but rather apologetic. “But it was a long time ago, and it wasn’t just you. Too many times, she was allowed to escape, and to brood, and to internalize her toxicity and pain. She needed help, but she never got it when it would have done her any good.

“Chrysalis could have been a true friend to us,” Discord acknowledged, “but we didn’t take the initiative.”

“That still doesn’t make what happened right.”

“No. No it doesn’t. It just makes it…what it is.” Discord said with a heavy sigh, shaking his head somberly. “Hopefully things will be better this next time around.”

“I plan to do more than ‘hope’.” Twilight said. Then the alicorn sighed too as she thought about all the challenges that lay ahead for herself, as well as the galaxy at large. “I don’t suppose I’ll be able to count on your support anytime soon?”

The draconequus frowned and shook his head. “Not if by ‘soon’ you mean any time in the next decade or so,” he admitted. “The galaxy’s still quite…charged, shall we say. It’s too risky for me to flex my chaotic muscles. But my Disciples will certainly help wherever they can.” He glanced around the darkened engineering room. “...As soon as they can move around the galaxy again, that is.

“And as soon as their new general gets acclimated.”

Twilight was actually grateful for the shift in topic, and so accepted the redirection of their conversation. “Just to be clear: it’s Xanadu, correct?” Discord nodded, a smile returning to his misshapen muzzle. “I heard from Citron that he’d exhibited a few interesting…insights during the battle. By all accounts though, he’s not entirely onboard with the idea.”

“His thoughts are understandably focused on other, more personal, concerns at the moment,” Discord acknowledged, his expression sobering once more.

Twilight too became much more reserved as she recalled the last time she’d seen Xanadu. According to the nursing staff in the Rockhoof’s infirmary, he hadn’t left Mig’s side in nearly a month. Nor had the kirin’s condition improved much during that time. Her injuries, as serious as they had been from the onset when she’d been slammed head-first against the bulkhead of the Zathura, had not been at all helped by her rough treatment during the vessel’s crash landing or her extraction in the wake of Chrysalis’ attack. It was a genuine miracle that she was still alive at all.

Certainly none knew when―or if―she’d recover from her coma. Or if there would be much remaining of the gifted engineer she’d once been when she did. Well, none of the medical staff certainly. Twilight did find herself wondering if Discord might not―

“The funeral will be in two weeks. Keep your schedule clear.”

The alicorn was taken aback by the unprompted announcement. “There’s nothing you can―?”

“Of course there is.”

When Discord didn’t elaborate any further, Twilight’s expression became somewhat more concerned. “What’s the catch?”

“The ‘catch’ is that if she lives, Xanadu won’t accept leadership of the Disciples. She’ll follow him back to the Farsian Empire and they’ll live out a sickening-sweet ‘happily ever after’ full of love, comfort, and more than a few adorable striped kirin foals. I need an insulin shot just thinking about it,” he said with a faux grimace.

“...Why did you just frame all of that like it was a bad thing? That sounds like a wonderful ending for the two of them!”

“For them, yes,” Discord agreed, “but not for the Disciples. Not for the millions they won’t be able to help across the galaxy until Xanadu finally dies of old age and passes on his gift to the next creature destined to lead them.

“Is securing their ‘happy ending’ worth sacrificing all those others?”

Twilight’s heart hurt. “It’s not fair,” she protested in a tone that wasn’t―quite―petulant.

“No, it’s not.” Discord agreed.

“Well that’s not good enough!” Twilight snapped back at the draconequus. “They suffered enough―all of them have! Damn it, Discord; it’s not right! Pick somepony else! Give it to Citron; he’d be a great general.”

“Would that I had control over who inherited the Spirit of Chaos.” He offered, apologetically.

“How do you not?! Isn’t it a part of you?”

“Oh, hardly.” The draconequus chuckled. “I have no more control over the Spirit than you or your friends did over the Elements. It just ‘is’, as they just ‘are’.”

“No.” Twilight stated, leaving no doubt in the word’s finality. “I don’t accept that. I don’t accept that the Elements, or Spirit of Chaos, or whatever other forces might be out there are so fickle and cruel as to require these kinds of sacrifices from us! Ponies deserve to be happy, damn it!”

“They do.”

Discord’s trite agreement did nothing to soothe Twilight’s ire. The alicorn drilled her accusing gaze into the chimera. She detested him in this moment for the choice he’d presented her with. The happiness of two creatures verses the wellbeing of an unknowable number of millions. Well, unknowable to her, at any rate. The draconequus clearly had some notion. Not that knowing the exact number would make her feel any better.

Twilight hated being placed in a position where she was deciding between the fates of two groups. She’d hated that during the opening acts of the war that Tirek and cozy Glow had begun, and she hated it now. The Harmonious galaxy that she had hoped to fashion wasn’t supposed to be one where she was making these sorts of decisions. Hurting some to help others wasn’t something the Elements would endorse.

…The alicorn’s gaze narrowed slightly. No…it wasn’t was it? This wasn’t Harmony, what she was debating now. Nothing about it was. Had she really fallen so far, so fast, herself? When did it happen? What had led her down this path where she was content to negotiate for the wellbeing of some by trading that which she had no right to? It wasn’t her place to decide who deserved to be happy, because everycreature deserves happiness.

That was when things had begun to crumble, Twilight realized. When she began to bargain with Harmony, trying to parcel it out like it was a limited resource. She’d begun treating it like a commodity, instead of a foregone state of existence that all were entitled to, and which she was not in a position to take from others.

And here she was, about to cross that line again.

“Mig lives.”

Discord raised a brow. “Are you sure?”

“I’m not going to use their happiness as currency,” the alicorn affirmed.

The draconequus shrugged and snapped his fingers. “It’s done. Millions of lives have now been doomed.”

“No, they haven’t,” she countered, “because when I leave here I’m going to go and talk with Xanadu about Friendship, and how important it is to help others who are in need. Besides,” Twilight glanced around the darkened engineering room, “if this wreck needs anything, it’s a lot of TLC from a talented engineer.”

Discord pondered the merits of the purple mare’s plan. After a few seconds, he acknowledged, “that might work.”

“It will.”

“You’re taking a big risk, though, don’t you think?”

“I don’t believe that Friendship and Harmony are ‘risks’. They’re sure things that can’t fail, as long as we maintain our faith in them, and pursue them at every opportunity. The Disciples will have their general, the galaxy will have their aid, and those two will have happy lives.

“Because that’s how Friendship works.”

Discord’s features finally broke into a wide smile again as he regarded the purple alicorn. For the second time during their meeting, the draconequus hugged Twilight. “...I’m really happy to have you back.”

Twilight balked again, and then her gaze narrowed. “Oh, Celestia help me, if all of that was just another of your little ‘tests’―!”

Discord withdrew quickly, a smile still being maintained on his face as he waved his mismatched hands in an effort to calm the mare. “Twilight, I assure you, this wasn’t just a test―” He quickly changed tacts when the alicorn’s glare grew suddenly more intense. “You’ve been through Tartarus and back! I just wanted to make sure your heart was still in the right place.” He was holding a stethoscope up to her chest now, listening intently as he moved the diaphragm around sporadically along her front. Discord then perked up. “Ah! It seems all in order!”

He snapped his fingers and moved the ear pieces from his head to Twilight’s. The alicorn quirked a confused brow as she heard nothing that sounded like a heartbeat, but rather a very invigorated drum solo. She glanced down to see that the other end of the stethoscope was hooked up to a microphone and that said microphone was positioned in front of a full set of drums being played enthusiastically by the chaotic little demigod. She sighed and teleported the listening device back into the aether from whence it had been summoned.

The purple mare took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Discord.” The percussive melody ended on a sour cymbal strike from the wincing draconequus. He removed the drumset and cleared his throat, sheepishly kicking his cloven hoof around. “Thank you…for caring.” The chimera grinned broadly.

“But!” Twilight held up an authoritative pinion, pointing it at the draconequus. “I expect you to work really hard to put all this right again! I’ll be in the Dragon Clans a lot for the next few years, helping Spike and working on rehabilitating the other princesses. Which means you’ll basically be the only member of the ‘Old Guard’ in the Sphere for a while.

“I know you’re limited in what you can do right now,” she acknowledged with a nod, “but I expect you to help Xanadu, Mig, and the Disciples as much as you possibly can. I want to see real progress being made the next time I swing back by this way? Understood…General Discord?”

The diminutive draconequus snapped to attention and saluted, the oversized olive drab helmet on his head making a sound like a struck gong. “Aye, aye! You can count on me, princess!”

“Good.” Twilight said with an approving nod. Then she eyed the tiny embodiment of chaos closely, idly scratching her chin. “Because you’re the perfect size for my bookcase now, and I’d hate to have to turn you to stone for ‘insubordination’...even if you would make a fetching bookend…”

Discord swallowed back a nervous laugh. “Heh…yeah. We wouldn’t want that now, would we?”

The draconequus audibly ‘gulped’.

“The manifest for the latest deliveries, commander.”

Squelch gave a small start from where she was standing on the DropShip bridge, staring out over the vastness of the Royal Manehattan Spaceport that lay stretched out before her. The sage green unicorn mare turned to see an auburn unicorn mare standing just behind her, an offered datapad floating in an aura of golden magic. “Thank you, Hi―sorry―Sergeant Feedhorn.” She stammered, clearing her throat and accepting the offered device from her new head of communications. Slip-ups like that weren’t happening nearly as frequently anymore, but old habits died hard, it seemed.

The other unicorn nodded, hiding an understanding smile as she trotted away, leaving Squelch to review the information on the pad. There was a good deal of it too. It took quite a lot more in terms of supplies and material to operate a Princess-class DropShip than the smaller, blockier, Mustang that she’d been used to. A lot more material, and a much larger crew. She now had more than four times the number of personnel on her payroll. It would be nice to have the greater flexibility when it came to selecting contracts that those larger numbers allowed, but it was also going to take her a little longer to get to know all of them too.

Though, maybe that was a good thing? If she didn’t get too close to the members of her crew, then maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much when they died during an operation…no. Squelch didn’t want that either. She didn’t want it to not hurt when she lost somecreature. Otherwise she might run the risk of thinking in terms of ‘acceptable losses’ on missions. Maybe that was how real militaries operated, but this wasn’t an army. It was a business. She didn’t command soldiers, she managed employees. They had signed on with her company with the expectation that she would take care of them and get them paid. She wasn’t going to abuse that trust and risk their lives unnecessarily because she thought of her crew as numbers on a ledger rather than real creatures with dreams and aspirations for the future.

Which wasn’t to say that she was capable of managing such a large crew on her own either. Not while also trying to do all of the other jobs she’d held while running the Irregulars when they’d just been a single lance. If she tried to run this recently expanded mercenary company the same way she had before, then between employee evaluations, payroll, and inventory, she wouldn’t have time to actually vet contracts!

That was why the unicorn had seen fit to create and staff separate departments to manage those aspects of the business. She now had additional department heads that reported to her and helped to manage the running of the DropShip and its crew. She looked to her side and waved to get the attention of her new head of Creature Resources.

The topaz changeling buzzed over. “Yes, commander?”

“It looks like the uniforms for Canter and Trot Company finally arrived,” Squelch informed one of the recent additions to her command staff. “Make sure that they get to Captains Hussar and Triton. Also, Chief Channel Lock will want to know about these pulse cannons. She’s been waiting all week for them.”

“Understood, commander. Is there anything else you need?”

“Not right now, June; thank you.”

The changeling mare nodded and flitted away to perform her assigned tasks. Squelch watched the drone leave, her mind still marveling at the notion that she’d allowed herself to actually hire a changeling as part of her crew―let alone seven. One of them was even the new commander of Gallop Company, which the unicorn had felt only fitting, given who it was that had previously filled the role as the leader of the unit with that namesake.

The hardest part there had been finding three BattleSteed pilots who didn’t mind taking their orders from a former ComSpark soldier…

Squelch’s comlink beeped. “Go ahead.”

“The Changeling Ambassador is here to see you, commander.” Came the announcement from her interim head of security, Lieutenant Anzac. Blood Chit was still convalescing; reluctantly. Had it been up to the pegasus, he would have been back performing his duties weeks ago, but Squelch wouldn’t hear of it. By her order, the crimson stallion wasn’t allowed to set hoof on the DropShip until he’d been officially cleared by the doctor overseeing his recovery.

According to the hospital, three bribe attempts had already been made to try and secure an early release.

Squelch tried not to make it sound evident that she was rolling her eyes when she heard the title that was given by the security pony, “Send him up, lieutenant; thank you.”

By the time the lift doors to the bridge opened―as there were far too many levels on the massive DropShip to make stairs practical―the sage unicorn was sitting in her command chair. She glanced over at the sound of the new arrival stepping out onto the deck and flashed her guest a broad grin. “What do you think?” She asked, gesturing around the sprawling command deck that was easily ten times the size of the cramped bridge of the Zathura, and staffed by just about ten times the crew as well.

Slipshod flashed the mare a lopsided smile. “I think it’s just a tad uninspired to have named it the Galloway II. Besides, isn’t it bad luck to name a ship after one that was destroyed or something?”

“Ah, but technically it wasn’t that Galloway that was destroyed. It was the Zathura!” She countered primly. “I liked the old name better anyway; and the only reason I changed it was to avoid getting dinged by ComSpark. But that’s not a problem anymore now that it’s under new management.

“Besides, it’s my ship and I can name it whatever I want,” Squelch finished, sticking out her tongue playfully at the changeling stallion.

“Fair point,” he conceded. The newly-minted ‘Ambassador of the Changeling Conclave’ spared a moment to look around the bridge. For a DropShip that belonged to a mercenary company which had yet to even embark on its first mission, it seemed to be really busy. Though, Slipshod supposed, it likely took a great deal of work to build such a large organization from the ground up. As he understood it, it was technically more accurate to refer to the Rayleigh’s Irregulars as a mercenary battalion, given the numbers they boasted.

Though, now that he thought about it, “Why aren’t you changing the name back to the Steel Coursers then?”

“Because the Irregulars have a much better reputation overall now.” Squelch answered simply, shrugging. “They participated in a few larger campaigns and were never officially blacklisted by the Mercenary Review Board.”

“I thought that the changelings had agreed to let the MRB be replaced? Nacht and Victoria want something that’s not infested with unreformed ComSpark agents.”

“It’s in the works, yeah,” she confirmed, nodding, “but nothing’s been finalized yet. Even when it is, my understanding is that pretty much all of the records from the old MRB are going to be imported to whatever they end up calling the new organization. Which will mean that the Steel Coursers will still have a pretty big black mark.”

“I’m sure they’d erase it if you asked.” Slipshod pointed out helpfully.

“Oh, they definitely would,” the unicorn agreed, “but that would probably look even more suspicious. A lot of organizations would probably still have records of the blacklisting and wonder what kind of backdoor deal the Coursers made to get it removed. It just looks sketchy at a glance, and that’s usually enough for a prospective client to move on to the next candidate for a contract.

“It’s easier just to keep the name we have now. None of the shenanigans we got up to with the Disciples seems to have made it onto the official record thanks to the HyperSpark blackout, and we also have positively glowing reviews from the heads of the Pony Commonwealth and the Federated Moons. Thera also put in a good word on behalf of the Combine. You can’t buy that kind of prestige!”

Slipshod did have to concede that the mare was making some good points where the difference in the reputations of the former and current companies were concerned. Though he could quite keep himself from grinning in response to her last comment. “Have you tried? Even after all of this,” he waved a hoof around the bridge of the DropShip, “you can’t tell me that you’ve put a serious dent in that line of credit Twilight gave you.”

“You’d be surprised. I’d say that, all told, I’ve cashed in about three quarters of the billion C-bits that Twilight promised us for the job.”

“Three quarters?!” Slipshod blurted out the number. “That’s how much this ship costs?”

“Don’t be silly, of course not,” Squelch admonished the other stallion, “this ship was only four hundred million. But I also requisitioned two lances of assault BattleSteeds, four heavy lances, two medium, and a light lance. Also half a squadron of aerospace fighters. Also the fleet of support vehicles for salvage and recovery operations after a battle. Along with enough parts to keep all of them in good working order for at least six months of active operations.

“This outfit has an operating budget of nearly a hundred million C-bits a year now.”

The changeling was stunned into silence at the revelation. He’d always seen the idea of a billion C-bits as being more money than could reasonably be spent in a lifetime, even by a creature driven to excess. Yet Squelch had managed to blow through nearly every bit of her latest windfall in three months putting her new operation together.

Well, admittedly the term ‘blow through’ was a little misleading. It wasn’t like the unicorn had nothing to show for her spending―as evidenced by the massive DropShip he was currently standing in. And she had assembled an entire battalion of some of the most powerful and advanced BattleSteeds the galaxy had ever seen thanks to her access to both ComSpark and Dragon Clan resources. The Irregulars were certainly going to be a force to be reckoned with, Slipshod imagined.

“Impressive. I assume you’re not going to be securing funding by escorting convoys?”

Squelch let out an amused laugh. “Hardly! Actually, Triton was ‘kind’ enough to provide us with a list of systems in the Periphery where other large competing raiding outfits were based.” She informed him. “I figure we’ll be able to collect more than enough worthwhile salvage to keep us in the black hitting those bases.”

“You’re probably right.” Slipshod conceded, even as he winced slightly at the news of the unicorn mare’s intended destination. The Periphery was a long way from Equus. It would take her ship months just to get there. “Any idea when you’ll make it back this way?”

It was the mare’s turn to sober up slightly now. “Probably about nine months from the time we depart.” The pair were silent as they both digested the time that they’d soon be apart. Squelch was the one to break it, tentatively offering, “...You can still come with us. I could give you Gallop Company? I don’t even think Tityus would mind being replaced if he knew I was slotting you in. He’d probably insist! Gallop Lead is a nearly brand new Ursa―it’s a Dragon Clan design that I think you’ll―”

“Squelch.”

The unicorn stopped her pitch. She nodded, not needing the changeling to say any more than that. They’d had this discussion before. A few times, actually. Each time, they ended up agreeing that they each had to go their separate ways―no, that wasn’t quite right. The two of them weren’t ‘splitting up’, or anything like that. They were still officially ‘together’―if only in spirit and not in any legally-binding sense. It was just that they understood that they could do the most good for the galaxy in different ways…and in different places.

There wasn’t anything for Squelch to do on Equus. She didn’t have the talents or skills that the changelings needed. However, if she was out and about in the galaxy with a few dozen ‘Steeds at her command, there were all sorts of ways that she could help other creatures. Such as the pirate extermination endeavors she was planning to undertake once she finally had her mercenary outfit in order.

Meanwhile, Slipshod’s place was on Equus with the other changelings. Out with her, he was just one more ‘Steed pilot fighting raiders. Not to belittle the contribution he’d make, but the sage mare already had three dozen of those on her ship. Pragmatically, he wasn’t going to be of any extraordinary value to the Irregulars, whatever his personal value to her might be.

But on Equus…

Not every changeling had reformed in the aftermath of Chrysalis’ death. Comparatively few any had, actually. At least at first. Most had been inclined to simply withdraw from the fighting and seclude themselves, after a fashion. There’d been more than a few incidents of ‘replacement’ found since ComSpark’s official surrender. Fortunately this seemed to be the exception rather than the rule. Still, it was understood among the occupation forces that venturing outside of areas of Equus which had been certified as ‘secured’ was a dangerous prospect. Efforts were being made to reform as many changelings as possible, but Equus was host to a rather significant changeling population, so it was going to take a lot of time to get to them all and convince them that it was in their best interests to renounce the way of life their former queen had taught them.

Slipshod could do that. He’d not only managed to fully Reform himself, but he had shown other changelings the way as well. And while the stallion wasn’t quite so foolhardy as to try and take on converting every other changeling in the galaxy himself, he was still something of a living ‘nexus’ for that change. As the foremost ‘expert’ on Friendship and specifically on how it related to changeling Reformation, Slipshod’s counsel and advice was heavily sought after by his ever-expanding cadre of Reformers, or changeling ‘life coaches’, or whatever it was they were being called. Coming up with an official title hadn’t really been much of a priority.

Which was to say nothing of his other responsibilities on Equus as the provisional representative of the recently founded Changeling Conclave. As his title suggested, while Slipshod had vehemently refused any sort of appointment to a true position of direct ‘leadership’ in the Conclave, he’d been at a loss to explain why he shouldn’t be their representative to the other major powers, especially given that he had an already established relationships with a few of their leaders already. Twilight had personally vouched for him among the Dragon Clans―at least the ones that would listen to her over Smolder, at any rate.

This endorsement had had something of a domino effect where Victoria and Nacht were concerned. They needed a point of contact with the changelings as well, and figured they might as well use the ‘ling that the Clans were. So it was that Slipshod found himself the de facto ambassador of his race. At least for now.

He couldn’t be that ambassador, or the advisor on Reformation for other changelings, half a galaxy away. He had to remain here. It was where he could do the greatest good, for both the galaxy and other changelings.

Both of them knew this wasn’t how their lives would need to be forever though. Someday the changelings could be trusted to stand on their own without him having to hold their hoof. When that day finally came, Squelch would likely still be out trying to mend the galaxy one exterminated raider camp at a time, and she would always be open to welcoming new ‘Steed pilots onto her ship. They would be together again for real someday. Just not right now.

“So what brings you by?” Squelch asked. “Not that I’m saying you need a reason to visit,” she hastily added, smiling at her lover. Both of their respective duties tended to keep the pair rather busy. They rarely got to see much of each other until evening when they retired to the apartment they shared.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” he admitted, smiling at the unicorn, “I’m here to ask if you wanted to be my ‘plus one’ at the wedding next week?”

Squelch raised a surprised brow, but then her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “...If this is your way of coyly asking me to marry you again―”

“Nononono,” Slipshod assured her, only later realizing that he might have sounded a little too vehement while doing it, which he then fumbled in an attempt to correct. “I mean, not that I never would, because―well…” He closed his mouth, took a deep breath, and started again.

“Nacht and Victoria’s wedding,” he clarified, finally. The unicorn’s expression was even more perplexed now, prompting the changeling to elaborate. “I know: absurdly short notice for a ‘state wedding’, or whatever. They were actually trying to work out exactly where they could have the ceremony that wouldn’t ‘offend’ each others’ vassals one way or the other. I think they were going to pick a world on the border between their two realms. Either way, they expected it to be a while before any date was set. A lot of political stuff to work out merging their governments and such.

“However…” Slipshod cleared his throat rather noisily, flashing the unicorn a knowing look. “Those two haven't exactly been ‘celebate’ this whole time, and well…”

Squelch’s hoof went to her mouth, covering an amused smile. “Oh, goodness…”

“Yup. Foal on the way. Victoria found out a few days ago.” The stallion confirmed. “So, they figured that it was best to tie the knot now rather than wait―partly for political reasons and partly because those two are just fed up with waiting anyway.”

“‘Political reasons’?” Squelch prompted.

“They’re trying to merge their realms. While the foal’s obviously both of theirs, it looks a lot better from a succession standpoint if it’s born while they’re married. ‘Bastard’ foals can cause succession issues; especially if there’s other family somewhere that’s feeling a little too ambitious for their own good. As it is, some of the more resistant Federation Houses might insist on not recognizing the foal as a ‘legitimate heir’ of Nacht’s line just to have an excuse not to merge with the Commonwealth when he dies.”

“I assume they’ll have other foals down the line…” she pointed out with an annoyed snort directed at the hypothetical nobles.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. And those Houses would have no choice but to recognize those other foals…which would also cause a problem. Because the Commonwealth Houses will recognize the eldest foal as the heir, while the Federation might only recognize a younger sibling that was born in wedlock. Bam: civil war.”

“I hate noble politics,” the mare grumbled, earning a sympathetic nod from her beau.

“Me too. Nacht and Victoria aren’t too thrilled about the possible implications either. Hence the shotgun wedding. On the bright side: Equus is pretty firmly in the realm of ‘neutral ground’, so neither side’s detractors can feel the other side got preferential treatment regarding the location of the wedding. So that might have worked out okay in the end.

“To help mollify the more powerful nobles that are going to feel insulted that they weren’t in attendance for the wedding, they’re going to hold additional ‘mock’ ceremonies on each of their capital worlds later. By then they might even be parading around the new heir. Who knows?

“Anyway, that’s why there’s a wedding now. Want to go?”

Squelch narrowed her gaze at the stallion. “Wait a minute…why did you get an invitation and I’m the ‘plus one’?”

“Um, excuse me?” Slipshod puffed out his chest and gestured regally towards the golden sash draped across his chest. “Ambassador; remember? I’m kind of a big deal now.” He grinned broadly at the much more sour-looking unicorn mare. “It would be rude to host a wedding in someling’s capital and not invite its more prominent figures!”

She gave an exaggerated eye roll at the display, but couldn’t quite keep herself from smiling at the changeling regardless. “Fair enough. Yes, I’ll go; obviously.”

“Great!” The stallion then hesitated briefly before venturing: “...I don’t suppose you could cover the cost of the gift? The Changeling Conclave is still kind of working out how it’s going to finance itself―it’s only been around for a month, after all―and so I haven’t technically been paid yet…?”

While the sage mare’s eyes might have been narrowed at the changeling, Slipshod was relieved to sense no actual annoyance behind her gaze. Though there was a fair amount of mischievousness which put him slightly on edge. “I think I can loan you the money,” she offered, “but, I do expect to be paid back,” she emphasized. The stallion raised an expectant brow. “In backrubs. Starting tonight,” the mare grinned.

“...For how many nights after that?”

“The Galloway II is scheduled to depart in another six weeks, so…forty-ish?”

“I think that can be arranged.” Slipshod grinned back at her.

“Good,” she nodded sharply before adding, “and I expect them to be ‘Ambassador’-quality back rubs, Mister ‘Big Deal’!”

“Done!” The changeling stallion leaned over and the pair exchanged a quick peck before he returned to the lift. “I’ll see you tonight, love!” As the doors began to close, he flashed another grin. “It’s still your night to cook though!”

The doors sealed shut before the unicorn could get off a retort, leaving her to reconsider if she shouldn’t have made a different demand of the stallion…

Captain-General Stellar Nova of the Our Worlds League stepped past the pair of guardponies who were holding open the doors leading into the opulent lounge located in the wing of the palace reserved for his personal quarters. The doors then sealed closed behind him, as his staff was aware that any meetings he took in this particular room were to be given the utmost discretion. As was typical of most of the other guests the unicorn had previously entertained in this lounge, a stunningly attractive mare was waiting for him within, stretched languidly across a suede chaise sofa. The saffron red pegasus mare smiled as she saw the stallion enter, though she made no move to get up to receive him.

Indeed, it was the unicorn stallion who paid her deference, coming to a stop before the mare and bowing low on bent forelegs. “General Charon, it pleases me to no end that you arrived safely. When word reached me about the fate of Her Majesty, I―”

“Silence.”

The stallion’s mouth slammed shut, making an audible sound. The unicorn swallowed nervously, keeping his head looking down lest he incur the wrath of the senior ranking officer of what remained of not just of the ComSpark WarShip Fleet, but of the Changeling Hive itself.

While it was absurd to think that any official rules for the succession of leadership had ever been fashioned―for to do so was to doubt the eternal might and majesty of Her Royal Highness Queen Chrysalis―the changeling who had assumed Stellar Nova’s identity in the wake of his assassination could not envision a more logical choice to assume the mantle of leadership of the hive other than it’s most senior drone. So it had been that when word reached him through the recently restored HyperSpark Generator Network that General Charon was taking her fleet to Aether, he’d made the immediate private decision to cede authority to her. While it would be problematic for himself to step down as the Captain-General without raising all sorts of questions among the highest echelons of leadership in his government, Stellar had floated the idea of the general assuming the guise of a noble mare whom he could ‘wed’ as his consort. General Charon would then be able to rule the League through him.

He’d been quite relieved when the general seemed to find merit to the idea. The fact was that the changeling impersonating the late captain-general had been the next best thing to terrified at the prospect of running the Our Worlds League without guidance from Equus. That wasn’t what he had trained for! His mission had been to assume the identity of Stellar Nova and then act in accordance with the instructions he received through ComSpark. Now the queen was dead, ComSpark was in complete disarray, and he’d been doing everything he could not to panic ever since!

It was all good now though. The general was here, and she would know exactly what to do―

Stellar Nova’s thoughts were interrupted by the sudden―and violent―bisection of his brain by a steel pick being plunged into the back of his skull by another changeling. The late captain-general stiffened briefly before collapsing to the polished marble floor of the lounge. Above him stood the real General Charon, sneering as she looked down at the corpse. She’d sensed the sniveling drone’s fear and timidity the moment she’d entered the palace, posing as the mareservant for the captain-general’s most recent ‘guest’. How such an ineffectual drone could have been selected for such an assignment, the general would never know.

Perhaps the rot at the core of the hive had run deeper than even she’d suspected.

She glanced up at the saffron pegasus mare, who had also dropped her disguise, revealing Charon’s Chief Intelligence Officer, Colonel Lumen in their place. The changeling stallion wore an equally offended expression as he looked at the body.

“Signal our agents to take their assigned roles at the earliest safe opportunity,” Charon said, turning towards the nearby decanter as her junior officer did just that. She poured herself a drink and sipped at the amber rum leisurely. It had been a long and arduous journey here from Equus, and she had exhausted her shipboard supply of liquor several weeks ago while alternating between nights of heavy drinking and fits of misdirected rage as she contemplated the many follies of their late queen.

A couple of seconds later, she heard the briefest sound of muffled scuffling occurring outside the doors. Replacing all of her soon-to-be guardsmares with loyal drones had been a no-brainer. A few of the government’s more senior cabinet members and military commanders would be receiving similar ‘retirements’ in the next hour or two, she was sure. By morning, Charon would have undisputed control over the government of the Our Worlds League.

With that, Step One in her plan would reach completion.

Now it was just a matter of figuring out what Step Two was supposed to be...

Establishing a safe haven for the surviving members of the Hive had been of paramount concern, of course. There’d been a few options in that regard. Leaving settled space entirely had been right out, of course. Without victims upon which to feed, her crew would have starved to death before making it barely out of the Periphery. The general had seriously considered establishing herself as something of a Warlord among those backwater star nations. With her fleet, there was little doubt she could have carved out quite the sizable empire, with plenty of creatures on which to feed and sustain her followers.

However, the technological and industrial disparity between the Sphere and the Periphery would mean that she’d never be able to build up her forces beyond what they currently were. Over time, attrition and time would wear down her fleet, as they’d no longer have access to substantive shipyards, or even the economic capacity to build ones from the ground up. In a matter of decades, she’d be no more powerful a force to reckon with than a pirate cartel.

No, she had to remain in the Sphere, where there was the technology and the industrial capacity to not only preserve her valuable fleet of WarShips, but to perhaps even expand it. Which left only one reasonable choice: The Our Worlds League. It had already been infiltrated by changelings to work on behalf of ComSpark, and the propaganda to that effect was already in full swing. It would take hardly any effort at all to push public opinion against that damnable ‘Federated Commonwealth’ which was in its nascency, following the marriage of its rulers.

Efforts would also soon be underway to influence the Kirin Confederation to come over to their side, now that their two nations had effectively been ‘hemmed in’ by the new alliance. Especially with rumors swirling around that the Combine might soon be throwing in with the lovebirds.

Their only saving grace at the moment was the fact that it seemed the Dragon Clans were not entirely giving up on the notion of carving out little realms for themselves to satisfy their greed. Charon could only hope that the reptiles would keep the attention away from the League and her efforts to fortify their borders against what was surely going to be an inevitable incursion. The general could see the clear inclination towards the formation of a renewed Celestia League―or at least something similar. When that came about, the Our Worlds League would doubtlessly be annexed by the rest of the Sphere.

Charon intended for them to be ready for them when that happened.

No, the general corrected herself, she was going to be more than ready to repel an invasion, she was going to prepare the forces of the League for a counter-invasion! Charon couldn’t be sure of exactly how much time she would have, but the changeling mare intended to use every available second of it to get her forces ready.

There was going to be a new ‘Celestia League’ alright, but it was going to be one with changelings at the top!

And not those thrice-damned ‘Reformed’ Changelings either! Just the thought of those abominations made Charon sick to her stomach. She shuddered, suddenly losing the taste for the rum she was drinking. She needed something to settle her stomach.

The changeling activated the intercom next to the decanter. “Send up some snacks,” she said in a register that was a perfect match for the captain-general.

“Right away, sir.” A mare replied.

It astonished even Charon that her late queen had managed to fuck up so thoroughly by the numbers. Clearly Chrysalis had grown complacent and hadn’t conceived of the sort of threat that could be posed by the Dragon Clans or the other major players in the Sphere. She’d been so convinced of her invulnerability after so many centuries of not being challenged, that she’d forgotten what it meant to be truly decisive and ruthless. She’d wanted to ‘toy’ with her prey in order to derive enjoyment out of it.

The general let out a positively derisive snort.

She’d paid for it in the end though, obviously. Charon would not let Chrysalis’ death go unheeded as a warning of what fate awaited leaders who allowed themselves to become too preoccupied with satisfying personal tastes at the expense of what was best for the hive.

The changeling mare’s ear twitched in the direction of the door as she heard a muffled gasp followed by a brief scuffle. A moment later, the doors opened just long enough for a body to be thrown inside. A young earth pony mare dressed in a prim black and white uniform of one of the palace servants slid along the polished marble surface. She came to a stop by Charon’s pocked hooves with a groan. Her eyes fluttered open. There was a sharp intake of air from the mare as she beheld the sight of the recently slain captain-general.

The mare likely would have screamed in horror as she beheld the fresh corpse if given the opportunity. However, before she could, the general grabbed her up in her telekinesis and hauled the mare off the floor, prompting the restrained mare to utter a surprised yelp. The young attendant’s eyes widened in shock and terror as she caught sight of the changeling standing before her. Again she looked as if she would let out a terrified screech in an attempt to summon help, but Charon’s jaws clamping around her throat stifled whatever might have wanted to come out.

The general held her teeth in place upon the earth pony’s neck for several long seconds, feeling the throbbing pulse of blood through her carotid…carrying the paralyzing venom that Charon was injecting throughout the trembling body held in her magical field. The mare’s mouth quivered sporadically, but no sounds came out. Her eyes were opened wide with terror as the pony finally recognized her newfound helpless state.

Charon let the limp body fall unceremoniously to the floor. The mare’s mouth continued to spasm in mute screams, her eyes straining to watch the changeling looming over her with a predatory look on her face.

The general pushed the mare’s fears and anxiety aside, rifling through the servant’s emotions until she finally found what she’d been after: her love. Her desperate desire to return to the safety of her parents, elder brother, and her newborn foal waiting for her back at home with her wife. Charon latched onto the love this mare had for her family…and drew it out of her. The voyage here had been a long one, and they’d not been afforded the opportunity to properly provision their WarShips before fleeing the Faust System.

This was the first decent meal that Charon had had in months, and she was content to thoroughly gorge herself on the absolutely delectable love that this mare had been privy to throughout her life. The changeling scoured her meal's psyche for every last iota of love…and then withdrew.

General Charon let out a satisfied sigh, her eyes nearly rolling up into the back of her head in ecstasy. Even a mare of her lofty rank had rarely been in a position to take in so much raw emotion directly from the source. It was an orgasmic experience, to be sure!

Her expression soured briefly as she glanced back at the floor and beheld the vacant…thing still breathing at her hooves. A disquieting shudder worked its way through the changeling’s body before she retrieved the blade she had used earlier to remove the captain-general and judiciously perforated the servant’s skull a few times to ensure that it was fully dispatched.

Charon shook herself once more to remove her revulsion and turned once more to confront her Chief Intelligence Officer. “Have this cleaned up. Then summon the rest of my flag officers. The HyperSpark Generator Network is being restored, which means that news of what happened on Equus will be getting out soon. We need to reach as many ComSpark agents as possible before the others can! We need to stop them from spreading that ‘Reformation’ crap any further than they already have,” she insisted with a disgusted sneer.

“Do you want me to create a disinformation campaign about what happened on Equus?” Lumen offered, doing his best to hide the drool that had worked its way onto his chin as he’d watched his superior devour such an opulent meal directly in front of his own famished self. There would be time for him to eat later, the colonel knew, and strove to remain composed. “We might be able to foment some significant unrest in the Commonwealth and Federation through our existing agents. They’re both very new leaders,” he pointed out, “they haven’t had time to cement their popularity with their subjects.”

Charon briefly considered the idea, but then dismissed it. “That doesn’t solve our biggest problems right now. Besides, I suspect that Twilight wasn’t in control of as many of the Dragon Clans as she would have liked. The invasion had to have hurt her plans as much as it did ours.” Lumen nodded in agreement, as he’d been the one to point out how counterproductive the dragons’ strategies had been if their objective really had been to take Equus.

“Destabilizing the other Successor States might let the Clans get the ball rolling on their invasions again. Right now our enemies are fighting each other. I want to keep it that way. Besides, it should also keep their attention away from what’s happening here in the League.”

“What about the Confederation?”

“They’re who I want us to look at for the time being,” the general agreed. “We’ll need ‘allies’, and the kirin are our best bet. It shouldn’t take a lot to get them to become more wary of the Federation, especially after they grow closer with the Commonwealth. Get a few plans written up for me by the end of the week.

“In the meantime, let’s focus on consolidating our hold on the League. Schedule a ‘planning conference’ or something. Get as many of the major Houses to Aether as possible. I want them all replaced with our agents. Every last one. No more of Chrysalis’ ‘puppet master’ bullshit. We don’t have time for those kinds of games.

“I want to know that we can count on every resource we have when we need it!”

The colonel bowed his head in acknowledgement. “Yes, general…” The changeling stallion paused, considering. Then his lips spread into a slight smile as he corrected his choice of title. “I mean: yes…My Queen…”

Charon was briefly confused by her subordinate’s last statement, but then the implication behind it finally hit her. She was the highest ranking survivor of the ComGuard that she was aware of. Even if it turned out that she wasn’t, and a more senior general or admiral turned up later, it wasn’t like Charon felt inclined to bow her head to any other changeling. Especially one who'd been appointed based on Chrysalis' idea of competence and skill.

Barely surviving one inept leader was more than enough for a lifetime, thank-you-very-much!

In which case, why should she be content with remaining a mere general? The position was vacant, and Charon suspected that just about any changeling who had the question put to them would be inclined to agree that she was the obvious choice to replace the late, not-so-great, Queen Chrysalis. Any drone who didn’t share such a view on the matter could be properly dealt with in time.

The hive was in disarray. Drones were confused and afraid, unsure of who and where to turn to in these perilous times for changelings. They needed a queen to lead them, not just a ‘general’. And lead them, Charon would; into a glorious future with changelings ascending to their proper place once more in dominion over the galaxy!

She would need to play the part of the good ‘Captain-General Stellar Nova’ for a time, yes. The forces which had invaded Equus had been pruned back considerably, yes, but they were far from impotent. Just like her own. Until she had all of her agents in place in the leadership of the Our Worlds League, Charon dared not to reveal herself as anything other than its proper unicorn leader. Someday, though, maybe it would be possible for them to finally come out of the shadows and reveal their natures to the world.

The changeling mare grudgingly admitted that she might even soon find herself having those damnable traitors back on Equus to thank for that. Once the galaxy became acclimated to the existence of ‘real life dopples’, it would be less of a shock to reveal that there was a second ‘kind’ of changeling; little different from there being different kinds of ponies. Maybe Charon could even play it off in such a way, not letting on that they posed any serious threat to the other creatures of the galaxy until it was too late.

Obviously the Princesses and the Dragon Clans would know better, yes, but the rest of the Sphere already ‘knew’ the Clans were murderous monsters who couldn’t be trusted, and if Charon played her cards right even the alicorns might not be able to move against her. Not if she at least feigned interest in ‘accepting Friendship’. She might even be able to play for the time she needed to prepare for her strike at the rest of the Sphere. Their adherence to Harmony wouldn’t allow them to make the first―unprovoked―hostile move against her hive.

Ooh…Charon did like the sound of that: her hive…

“Long live the queen!” Lumen said, more loudly and emphatically this time. From just beyond the door could be heard a pair of voices repeating the affirmation.

“Yes…” Charon whispered, relishing the future she was envisioning for the―for her―hive. Her lips spread out in a wide, hungry smile, “...Long live the queen,” she purred.

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!