New Story: Accidental Sunshine (Patreon)

Grey-17 had been traveling for a long time.

She couldn't even say how long she'd been traveling. The sun rose and set and rose again, without apparent effect. Grey-17's wings ached as she flew across the endless desert expanse, her multifaceted eyes scanning the desolate landscape for any sign of life. The sun beat down on her chitinous back, sapping what little strength she had.

The barren canyons and valleys offered no respite, no hint of the love or emotions that changelings needed to survive. Grey-17's stomach didn't growl anymore—only painful twitches remained, signs of the withering to her body.

As she crested a ridge, a wave of dizziness washed over Grey-17. Her wings faltered, and she plummeted to the ground. She squealed and hissed, kicking vainly to keep herself flying. These weeks of hard travel left her without the strength to fly.

Seconds later she struck, a sudden, painful impact against dirt. She whimpered and curled up, shielding her face and horn. She rolled through the dust, leaving a thick cloud behind her. Finally, she stopped rolling, and smacked painfully into a dead tree.

She whimpered, struggling to get hooves under her. They were weak today, even weaker than she remembered. But it wasn't the holes in her flesh that stopped her from rising. Grey-17 had no endurance left. She could only dig so deep before there was nothing left to find.

The baking sun rose higher, and its searing rays seemed to transport her. She was south again, nestled in the shadowy embrace of the hive. There was cool water again, and the moist air of her home. The smells of protective guards and her Queen's magic told her no enemy could threaten her.

"You don't have to do this," a drone buzzed from beside her, shifting back and forth on the broken rock. His wings opened then closed again, looking from Grey-17 to the desolate horizon. "There's no shame in working in the hive. Building, caring for the brood… you can be fulfilled."

Thorax could try to be kind to her—but she felt his emotions, even if she couldn't feed on them.

Her own wings lifted in an angry buzz. "Easy to say for a bug with a name. You earned your place in the swarm. I'm just… Grey-17."

The taller drone nudged her shoulder, trying to make her meet his eyes. He was older than she was, born in a season more fruitful in harvested love. The swarm was fallow now, barren of the bounty that once sustained it. "You would be, but—you would be alive, 17! No bug has ever returned from the North. Not in my lifetime, or my brother’s, or even the oldest bugs I know! Maybe the Queen…"

But he trailed off. Even if Chrysalis wasn't watching them now, that did not mean she would never see. Safety in the swarm required absolute loyalty, no matter how painful. "You do not have to go. The swarm would keep you if you stay. You aren't helping any bug by dying in that endless desert."

Something flashed in the sky above, so bright it yanked her violently back to reality. She was starving again, lying limp and bruised in the desert sand. She stared upward, eyes struggling to focus on the strange sight.

There was an object in the sky, formed of two shapes connected by spindly threads. Never had she ever seen something so round, or so straight. This was a built thing—sign of open eyes, and hearts. Creatures built this, and creatures could love.

The topmost of the two objects, the larger by far, was on fire. Bright orange radiated from it, bright enough that it briefly overpowered the setting sun. A display? A weapon?

Her instincts told her no—there was no reason to work so hard to build something so beautiful only to ignite it and destroy it in the desert where only the dead would see.

The object descended rapidly, its nose tilting at a sharper and sharper angle as the thing holding it up seemed to shrivel and weaken. As it approached, it entered the range of Grey-17's emotional senses. For the first time since she left the hive, she felt another being—just one, though the strength of its feelings were almost as overpowering as the flaming object that carried it.

This was not food to her, or any other tribe of bugs—this was terror, and a fear that could come only to one plummeting rapidly through the sky.

Not a bug—no bug had feelings that potent. But the lonely changeling did not care. She knew what it was like to fear, and these weeks had taught her what it meant to be alone. Someone had to help.

She was too weak and too slow to stop the crash. Even at her full strength, without the deprivation of her long journey, she would be powerless to prevent a disaster. She had to close the distance anyway.

That creature, even overflowing with terror and desperation, radiated a magical strength that drew her in. Grey-17 stumbled to her hooves, opened her wings, and took off. Seconds later, the strange flying ship hit the ground. A low rumble echoed across the empty desert, loud enough that her ears pressed downward to protect herself from the roar.

Grey-17 had no idea where the energy came from, but it came, and so she flew. Over more shriveled trees, towards a cloud of suffocating smoke larger than any fire she'd ever seen. The swarm had little wood, and rarely had any need. But this object was made from things that burned.

She reached the place the object came down seconds later, and dropped out of the air, tucking her wings flat to keep them safe. Every tree and shrub was now aflame, sending little trickles of orange up into the air. Both halves of the strange object separated on impact, with the burning section now laying on its side a short distance from the one below.

Without that, the creature within would probably be dead already, scorched to a shriveled black husk. Yet Grey-17 still felt fear there, mixed with a new wave of incredible pain. The living creature wasn't dead yet, so she could be helped.

What looked immovable and mighty from the air was now cracked and bent on the ground, thin metal parts severed while glass shattered onto the dirt. Flames slowly spread from where it touched its other half, consuming rope and canvas and spreading to the wooden hull.

Fire this large was a little like a bug itself, with a powerful appetite that it needed to satisfy at any cost. It would consume her too if she wasn't careful.

"Concealment is the hunter's chief priority," said Otic, her voice still clear in Grey-17's mind despite the months of intervening time. "Without it, the swarm may be discovered, then hunted. When this is secured, survival is next. You must endure, Grey, or those depending on your harvest will go hungry. Do not risk yourself for a meal, there will always be another."

Her old teacher was a good bug, one of the few who ever believed Grey-17 would ever earn her name. Yet she was also an old creature, with habits that came from surviving a long time. "Leave this place, and fly the way it came from. Where there is a traveler, there must be a burrow they call their home. Do not risk your wings for one you cannot eat."

"Please!" a small, terrified voice spoke from those ruins, barely audible over the growing roar of flame. "It's so hot. Can't… move. Time Turner? Is that you?"

It must be the starvation, making her mind as soft as the translucent slime that formed the hive's structure. Grey-17 remembered the other members of her brood, when she was small. Those little voices called out for help too, reaching towards the light. They held open their mouths, desperate for any love to sustain them.

"We can do nothing for them," said an older voice. The Queen sounded sad even then, but cold. "Too small. Their wings haven't developed, see? A flightless bug will never serve the swarm."

"Help me!" Grey-17 called. She opened her little wings, and fought her way up from that black nesting-pit. She didn't make it all the way—but close enough for a bug to catch.

The Queen held her a second, impossibly large and powerful in that memory. "You made it. Welcome to the world, 17. I feared I would lose you."

But the others had been lost. Their final mercy was a quick death, as the burrow flooded and washed the refuse away. Of a hundred bugs, Grey-17 was the 17th to emerge—the last. The worst member of the swarm's worst generation yet.

Flames washed over the broken thing a little like water had swept away her nesting pit. But this time, she was strong enough to go in and help.

She fought through her exhaustion and weakness, rushing forward into the yet-unburned section of wooden object. She followed the terror around rubble and broken shelves, until she found the one creature aboard.

She resembled a bug in basic shape and size, four legs, two wings, and one head. Otherwise, she was far more like an animal—her body was covered in fur, with singular eyes blind to all but one direction. She was also hopelessly trapped, pinned by a length of broken wood that pierced her insides. Instead of blueish hemolymph, deep red fluid leaked out of the opening, pulsing along with her heartbeat.

The creature looked up at her, and terror turned to relief. Hope washed over her, and a burst of nourishment stronger than anything Grey-17 had ever tasted. "Please… help me."

She barely had the strength to stand a second ago. But now she could move. Grey-17 hurried forward, eyes scanning for where the broken wood connected to the ship.

The enclosed space was already swelteringly hot, with flames licking at them from an adjoining hallway. In another minute, it would be swallowed completely. "This will hurt!" Grey-17 said. "I have to… break this."

"Burning hurts too!" the furry creature said, curling up. "Do it!"

She aimed her horn at the beam, and focused. Grey-17 was not very good at magic, just like she wasn't good at much of anything. But a rapidly-approaching death made for powerful motivation. Green light flashed, and the beam split, showering little shards of wood into the air.

The creature whimpered, then gasped as the length of wood tugged them sideways, hurting their insides even more. Yet the worst part was yet to come. Grey-17 gripped the broken end in her magic, then yanked it back, tossing the red-soaked piece of wood away.

Blood surged through the opening, but she was ready for that too. There was plenty of flat fiber everywhere, woven into cloth sheets as minotaurs sometimes did. She pressed it over the opening with her magic, while scooping the injured creature under her neck.

Only the surge of powerful relief coming from the hurt thing kept her moving. Her hooves shook from the strain of lifting someone twice her height. But she kept going, dragging one step at a time. Finally they reached the edge, and dropped out the opening onto the desert sand.

Grey-17 crawled away from the heat, helping the injured thing get as much distance as she could. As the sun set, the burning object grew brighter to match, until its line of black smoke seemed to stretch across the world.

"You… saved me," said a little voice. The thing was even weaker now than it had been on the ship. Its motions came sluggishly, and the skin under its fur was pale. The love radiating from it dimmed as its life faded. "At least I get to die out in the open."

"No." Grey-17 stood up, crouching beside the injured thing. "I won't let you die at all. First, we… stop the wounds. Then we can figure out how bad it is."