Into the Hive


                                            >A narrow ray of light illuminates the slime-covered, greasy walls with dozens of cocoons and larvae hanging on them.

                                            >Gosh darn it, the smell was so unbearable that you even had to put on a gas mask.

                                            >You are a bipedial, furless ape clad in armor, so you must be J. A. Morrison, 1st lieutenant of the Equestrian Royal Army.

                                            >"Weapon check, everyone. Three, two, one."

                                            >"Ready."

                                            >"Ready."

                                            >"Ready."

                                            >More than a dozen voices of your team members echo through your headset.

                                            "What about the vibe check, Major?"

                                            >"Leave it for the bugs."

                                            "Okay, okay."

                                            >Heavy-head with shielded guns advances through the corridors, with you and the others following them in a column.

                                            >"Have to hope there won't be any other corridors; dividing the team is not the best thing - we all saw those horror and Alien movies, after all."

                                            >"Yeah, right."

                                            >You really hope that it'll be over soon.

                                            >Your APC has ran out of gas almost at the end, so you had to march through about ten miles of barren badlands.

                                            >And it sure was cold as hell.

                                            >"I see a big...hall or something, two hundred metres away. It's so goddamn dark."

                                            >"Ready the guns, contact is possible."

                                            >"What if it's a trap, huh?"

                                            >"Can't be. Also, I've got a nice ace up in my sleeve if something happens."

                                            "That's good to know."

                                            >Team marches forth, until you all end up in the large atrium, its walls filled to the brim with sections and cocoons in them.

                                            >Heart of every hive - its Royal Hall.

                                            >After last member of your group walks in, some sort of natural light starts to illuminate the room. Ones in the head of the formation swear through the microphones - a bunch of changelings is in the front of them...waiting for something.

                                            >Major extends his right hand, and you all form a line, ready to pour a stream of .223 upon the bugs.

                                            >"Hs...wait. Don't harm my...children."

                                            >A slithering voice, like the walls of the hive, filled the room.

                                            >In the spotlight, if you could call it that, a large figure emerged, almost overshadowing other, smaller changelings.

                                            >Great Matriarch Chrysalis, once a ruler of thousands of square miles of land and dozens of thouands of loyal drones, now all her might reduced to the last hive outside of the Equestrian borders.

                                            >"Wait, please."

                                            >"What is it?!"

                                            >Major's voice, trained from the days he was a drill sergeant in the MC, boomed across the room.

                                            >"Sorry, my dear Queen, but our task is to take you all out."

                                            >The 'dear Queen' part was said with audible sarcasm.

                                            >"Please, officer, I don't have anywhere else to go, this is the northernmost territory that can be inhabited by changelings..."

                                            >"Maybe we could establish a, how do you call it, a peace treaty?"

                                            >Major ponders with this one for a bit.

                                            >"A peace treaty? Well, I need to call the Command. Maybe they'll say something. Travis, prepare the tranceiver."

                                            >"Yes, sir."

                                            >Within a couple of minutes, a long-range short-wave tranceiver is set up with major checking one frequency after another.

                                            >"Command, this is Grace One, respond."

                                            >After another five minutes, he got the response and started arguing about something with the Command in San Celestina.

                                            >"...okay, I got it, sir. We'll commence momentarily. Grace One out."

                                            >He stands up and turns to the queen, who was still waiting the answer.

                                            >Well, she had holes all over her body, wings were fly-like and her mane was probably slimy as hell, but she had a certain appeal.

                                            >"Great Matriarch Chrysalis, ruler of the changelings."

                                            >"I, Major Stephano Robertson, of the 1st Grenadier Battalion, Equestrian Royal Army, am entitled to offer you a peace treaty on the following conditions."

                                            >"First - this hive, now renamed The Pacified Hive, may expand freely as long as it doesn't interfere with the State borders."

                                            >"Second - your subordinates can venture out into the territories of the Special Administrative District, but are forbidden to shapeshift."

                                            >"Third - a permanent military expedition - our team, soon to be reinforced - stays here indefinitely to ensure your compliance."

                                            >"Do you agree with that?"

                                            >What?

                                            >Like, really, Command allowed Major to negotiate a peace treaty with changelings? You know, the ones that were almost wiped out two months ago during the Operation Insecticide?

                                            >This is definitely some sort of phenomenon.

                                            >You see Chrysalis' eyes light up at the prospect of peace.

                                            >"Of course!"

                                            >"Thank you very very much, officer!"

                                            >"Now, please, follow me. I think we have some spare rooms for you to live until we'll make a permanent living quarters."

                                            >"Wait a sec, Major, what if they kill us while we are asleep?"

                                            >Pattinson's voice sounds a bit worried through the team's radio frequency.

                                            >"Ah yeah. Queen?"

                                            >"What, officer?"

                                            >"In case of you trying to do some funny business here...I've got a three hundred pounds of octogene layed around your hive and their detonators are chained to my heart rate. If it drops below five, you'll all go boom."

                                            >So you carried explosives in those heavy additional backpacks, huh? Nice.

                                            >"Of course, of course, officer!"

                                            >...

                                            >In about twenty minutes, you find yourself escorted by two buzzing guards into a small room. Surprisingly, it even has a normal bed and normal cupboard in it - but otherwise the furniture is spartan. Probably hivemind bugs don't need any comfort or something.

                                            >Your legs ache, as well as your back from carrying a full 50-pound load, so after undressing and hiding your M4 under a large pillow you almost instantly drift to sleep.


                                            >You're alive and not in a cocoon - already great.

                                            >Seems like Chrysalis has fulfilled her promise or she just got scared by a perspective of her hive being vaporized.

                                            >Three hundred pounds is three hundred pounds, after all.

                                            >The "door" to your room opens, and you see the bug queen herself.

                                            >"Good morning...sorry, I'm not yet acquainted with you."

                                            "1st Lieutenant Morrison, Your Majesty."

                                            >If you're going to be some kind of embassy secretary here, then you'll have to stick to some manners, after all.

                                            >"Your Majesty, hmmm...pleased to meet you, loo-tenant."

                                            >She comes closer.

                                            >"If you have any...uncomfortableness...or you are displeased with our hospitality, please don't hesitate to report to me. I'll personally ensure that your stay will be enjoyable."

                                            "Thank you, Your Majesty."

                                            >Her eyes lit up again.

                                            >"Nothing here to thank me for, dear loo-tenant~"

                                            >While you're puzzled with this reaction of hers, Chrysalis rapidly leaves the room.

                                            >Okay, whatever. Cleaning the gun will surely distract you from analyzing this sort of behavior.


                                            >Several days have passed with you almost not noticing.

                                            >Your team got reinforced by an infantry squad, and Chrysalis had you all moved into more comfortable apartments.

                                            >Even food is more or less equal to what you were eating at home.

                                            >She also somehow found you all a plenty of books, so staying here isn't boring you, if you also take daily exercises into account.

                                            >You dive into bed after another exhausting five-mile run, ready to close your eyes and sleep soundly until dawn.

                                            >Too tired, you don't notice a slight creak of door and quiet bug noises.

                                            [spoiler]You expect a matrix-like awakening with him understanding that he was in a cocoon all the time? nope, sorry. wholesomeness prevails.[/spoiler]

                                            "Mhm, what a mor...ning..."

                                            >"A good morning indeed~"

                                            "What?"

                                            >You're still half asleep, so this is the only reaction you have to a giant bug lying in your bed.

                                            >Watching you with heart-like pupils in her eyes.

                                            >"Dear loo-tenant, I'm deeply sorry, but I couldn't do anything other than that."

                                            >"I've found out that all other officers in your team are married or something like that...and I didn't like them as much as you. Really."

                                            >The hell's that? You're getting hit on by a giant pony bug matriarch?

                                            >"You know that we changelings feed on love, right...without you it'll be much harder for me to gather it."

                                            >"And it's so lonely-y-y-y here..."

                                            >She drags you closer - surprisingly, her chitin feels more like a pony's skin without that much fur.

                                            >And her green-blueish belly is very soft to touch.

                                            >"Please, lieutenant Morrison, as I don't know your name..."

                                            >"...will you be my king? I don't ask you to go against your country, no world domination anymore..."

                                            >Without thinking, you spit out the first response your brain gets.

                                            "Yes, Your Majesty."


                                            >"In the name of glorious Sun, in the name of glorious Moon, I, major Robertson, now pronounce you a man and a mare."

                                            >"Fire!"

                                            >Two lines of your comrades fire ten volleys in the sky, while you walk in the middle, your right hand wrapped around Chrysalis' neck.

                                            >Three days later, a second treaty is signed, with Changeling Confederation officially named the ally of the State of Equestria.

                                            >Amor Vincet Omnia, isn't it?


                                            Fin.