GREEN
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1478 8.55 KB 117
1478 8.55 KB 117
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>A narrow ray of light illuminates the slime-covered, greasy walls with dozens of cocoons and larvae hanging on them.
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>Gosh darn it, the smell was so unbearable that you even had to put on a gas mask.
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>You are a bipedial, furless ape clad in armor, so you must be J. A. Morrison, 1st lieutenant of the Equestrian Royal Army.
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>"Weapon check, everyone. Three, two, one."
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>"Ready."
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>"Ready."
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>"Ready."
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>More than a dozen voices of your team members echo through your headset.
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"What about the vibe check, Major?"
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>"Leave it for the bugs."
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"Okay, okay."
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>Heavy-head with shielded guns advances through the corridors, with you and the others following them in a column.
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>"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."
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>"Yeah, right."
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>You really hope that it'll be over soon.
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>Your APC has ran out of gas almost at the end, so you had to march through about ten miles of barren badlands.
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>And it sure was cold as hell.
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>"I see a big...hall or something, two hundred metres away. It's so goddamn dark."
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>"Ready the guns, contact is possible."
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>"What if it's a trap, huh?"
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>"Can't be. Also, I've got a nice ace up in my sleeve if something happens."
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"That's good to know."
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>Team marches forth, until you all end up in the large atrium, its walls filled to the brim with sections and cocoons in them.
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>Heart of every hive - its Royal Hall.
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>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.
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>Major extends his right hand, and you all form a line, ready to pour a stream of .223 upon the bugs.
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>"Hs...wait. Don't harm my...children."
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>A slithering voice, like the walls of the hive, filled the room.
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>In the spotlight, if you could call it that, a large figure emerged, almost overshadowing other, smaller changelings.
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>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.
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>"Wait, please."
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>"What is it?!"
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>Major's voice, trained from the days he was a drill sergeant in the MC, boomed across the room.
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>"Sorry, my dear Queen, but our task is to take you all out."
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>The 'dear Queen' part was said with audible sarcasm.
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>"Please, officer, I don't have anywhere else to go, this is the northernmost territory that can be inhabited by changelings..."
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>"Maybe we could establish a, how do you call it, a peace treaty?"
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>Major ponders with this one for a bit.
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>"A peace treaty? Well, I need to call the Command. Maybe they'll say something. Travis, prepare the tranceiver."
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>"Yes, sir."
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>Within a couple of minutes, a long-range short-wave tranceiver is set up with major checking one frequency after another.
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>"Command, this is Grace One, respond."
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>After another five minutes, he got the response and started arguing about something with the Command in San Celestina.
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>"...okay, I got it, sir. We'll commence momentarily. Grace One out."
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>He stands up and turns to the queen, who was still waiting the answer.
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>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.
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>"Great Matriarch Chrysalis, ruler of the changelings."
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>"I, Major Stephano Robertson, of the 1st Grenadier Battalion, Equestrian Royal Army, am entitled to offer you a peace treaty on the following conditions."
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>"First - this hive, now renamed The Pacified Hive, may expand freely as long as it doesn't interfere with the State borders."
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>"Second - your subordinates can venture out into the territories of the Special Administrative District, but are forbidden to shapeshift."
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>"Third - a permanent military expedition - our team, soon to be reinforced - stays here indefinitely to ensure your compliance."
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>"Do you agree with that?"
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>What?
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>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?
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>This is definitely some sort of phenomenon.
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>You see Chrysalis' eyes light up at the prospect of peace.
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>"Of course!"
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>"Thank you very very much, officer!"
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>"Now, please, follow me. I think we have some spare rooms for you to live until we'll make a permanent living quarters."
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>"Wait a sec, Major, what if they kill us while we are asleep?"
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>Pattinson's voice sounds a bit worried through the team's radio frequency.
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>"Ah yeah. Queen?"
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>"What, officer?"
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>"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."
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>So you carried explosives in those heavy additional backpacks, huh? Nice.
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>"Of course, of course, officer!"
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>...
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>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.
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>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.
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>You're alive and not in a cocoon - already great.
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>Seems like Chrysalis has fulfilled her promise or she just got scared by a perspective of her hive being vaporized.
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>Three hundred pounds is three hundred pounds, after all.
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>The "door" to your room opens, and you see the bug queen herself.
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>"Good morning...sorry, I'm not yet acquainted with you."
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"1st Lieutenant Morrison, Your Majesty."
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>If you're going to be some kind of embassy secretary here, then you'll have to stick to some manners, after all.
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>"Your Majesty, hmmm...pleased to meet you, loo-tenant."
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>She comes closer.
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>"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."
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"Thank you, Your Majesty."
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>Her eyes lit up again.
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>"Nothing here to thank me for, dear loo-tenant~"
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>While you're puzzled with this reaction of hers, Chrysalis rapidly leaves the room.
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>Okay, whatever. Cleaning the gun will surely distract you from analyzing this sort of behavior.
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>Several days have passed with you almost not noticing.
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>Your team got reinforced by an infantry squad, and Chrysalis had you all moved into more comfortable apartments.
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>Even food is more or less equal to what you were eating at home.
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>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.
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>You dive into bed after another exhausting five-mile run, ready to close your eyes and sleep soundly until dawn.
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>Too tired, you don't notice a slight creak of door and quiet bug noises.
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[spoiler]You expect a matrix-like awakening with him understanding that he was in a cocoon all the time? nope, sorry. wholesomeness prevails.[/spoiler]
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"Mhm, what a mor...ning..."
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>"A good morning indeed~"
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"What?"
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>You're still half asleep, so this is the only reaction you have to a giant bug lying in your bed.
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>Watching you with heart-like pupils in her eyes.
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>"Dear loo-tenant, I'm deeply sorry, but I couldn't do anything other than that."
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>"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."
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>The hell's that? You're getting hit on by a giant pony bug matriarch?
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>"You know that we changelings feed on love, right...without you it'll be much harder for me to gather it."
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>"And it's so lonely-y-y-y here..."
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>She drags you closer - surprisingly, her chitin feels more like a pony's skin without that much fur.
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>And her green-blueish belly is very soft to touch.
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>"Please, lieutenant Morrison, as I don't know your name..."
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>"...will you be my king? I don't ask you to go against your country, no world domination anymore..."
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>Without thinking, you spit out the first response your brain gets.
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"Yes, Your Majesty."
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>"In the name of glorious Sun, in the name of glorious Moon, I, major Robertson, now pronounce you a man and a mare."
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>"Fire!"
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>Two lines of your comrades fire ten volleys in the sky, while you walk in the middle, your right hand wrapped around Chrysalis' neck.
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>Three days later, a second treaty is signed, with Changeling Confederation officially named the ally of the State of Equestria.
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>Amor Vincet Omnia, isn't it?
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Fin.
by Garda
by Garda
by Garda
by Garda
by Garda