They're EVERYWHERE!

156, 387: 7

"Use your knowledge! We've been through this before. That way!" orders 559 and points towards a manhole in the middle of the street ahead. Being the highest-ranked changeling present, the small group of two other warriors and one infiltrator obey without question.

Last thing they all recall before appearing here is them fighting off hordes of worm-puking, invulnerable equines, then some weird, mantis-like creatures appeared and dragged everyone into swirling portals hanging in the air. Now they're back in Canterlot... somehow. 156 and 387 are gone, drones are gone, and it's only them left. Left in the past, to be exact, or some awful version of it.

Why awful? Because this time the ponies were ready.

When the queen ordered the all-out assault, the magical barrier held. Thousands of shocktroopers and drones broke their bodies against it with only a little effect, so infiltrators had to step in and use their stored love to help using energy beams. In the end it worked, but the tired changelings found themselves facing an enemy completely different from what they fought in Canterlot before.

Swaths of changelings were plucked from the sky by catapults and blasts of magic, ripping the army ranks apart. Before the changelings could get into the streets, the losses were already catastrophic. Army or not, warriors or not, the truth is the changelings haven't faced a real war for even longer than ponies, and that's saying something. Still, where untrained and panicking ponies would quickly fall, changeling discipline as well as copied combat memories and instincts saved them from the worst.

Now they're running for their lives, hoping that if they can get to the castle, the queen's presence and leadership will be something to save them.

559 uses a strength enhancement to rip the manhole cover off and dive into the sewers. 2899, the lowest ranked warrior of the group, is the last one to go in. Once on the ladder, he secures the cover with a layer of sticky goo.

"Alright," 559 turns his head to 918, the only infiltrator of the group, "What the hole is going on?"

"Why do you think I know?!" she barks back between gasping for breath.

"This is either magic or some kind of illusion inside our heads. Even out there, the only hive links I sensed for real were ours. All this is your territory, so shapeshift your problem-solving horseshoes on and give me some ideas!"

"No clue where we are, no clue how we got here, even less of a clue as to how we get out. Good en-"

559 slaps her.

"I know you're used to working alone in the shadows, infiltrator, but we're here as a unit. You have us as resources and raw power, we have your world experience and mental abilities."

"I don't-" she objects.

"And I will keep slapping you until you do," 559 interrupts her, "Stop panicking, start thinking."

918 finally catches her breath and looks around. The three warriors are calm but alert and her hive link full of noise from the chaos inside her own mind finally equalizes and synchronizes with them properly.

What does she really know?

"All I have are guesses and theories."

"Start with the most realistic one," says 559, staring down at her.

"I don't think this is just in our heads," she shakes her head, "No, that's not right either. Okay okay," she takes a deep breath, the heavy sewer stench thankfully being something changelings can easily ignore, "One - it's not in our heads. Two - it's not entirely real. Three - we should treat it as real because those damn things snatched us from a forest that was real. I wish I knew something about magic but I'm just a mid-ranked infiltrator-"