They're... ON HOLIDAY?

Chapters

Day 0 - Prologue: 2/3
Day 0 - Prologue: 3/3
Day 1 - Shippy time: 2/9
Day 1 - Shippy time: 3/9
Day 1 - Shippy time: 4/9
Day 1 - Shippy time: 5/9
Day 1 - Shippy time: 6/9
Day 1 - Shippy time: 7/9
Day 1 - Shippy time: 8/9
Day 1 - Shippy time: 9/9
Day 2 - Points: 1/9
Day 2 - Points: 2/9
Day 2 - Points: 3/9
Day 2 - Points: 4/9
Day 2 - Points: 5/9
Day 2 - Points: 6/9
Day 2 - Points: 8/9
Day 2 - Points: 9/9
Day 3 - Storm: 1/11
Day 3 - Storm: 2/11
Day 3 - Storm: 3/11
Day 3 - Storm: 4/11
Day 3 - Storm: 5/11
Day 3 - Storm: 6/11
Day 3 - Storm: 7/11
Day 3 - Storm: 8/11
Day 3 - Storm: 9/11
Day 3 - Storm: 10/11
Day 3 - Storm: 11/11
Day 4 - Shipwrecked?: 1/7
Day 4 - Shipwrecked?: 2/7
Day 4 - Shipwrecked?: 3/7
Day 4 - Shipwrecked?: 4/7
Day 4 - Shipwrecked?: 5/7
Day 4 - Shipwrecked?: 7/7
Day 5 - Standard procedure: 1/8
Day 5 - Standard procedure: 2/8
Day 5 - Standard procedure: 3/8
Day 5 - Standard procedure: 4/8
Day 5 - Standard procedure: 5/8
Day 5 - Standard procedure: 6/8
Day 5 - Standard procedure: 7/8
Day 6 - Worky time cancelled!: 1/8
Day 6 - Worky time cancelled!: 2/8
Day 6 - Worky time cancelled!: 3/8
Day 6 - Worky time cancelled!: 4/8
Day 6 - Worky time cancelled!: 5/8
Day 6 - Worky time cancelled!: 6/8
Day 6 - Worky time cancelled!: 7/8
Day 6 - Worky time cancelled!: 8/8
Day 7 - Drones? What drones?: 1/7
Day 7 - Drones? What drones?: 2/7
Day 7 - Drones? What drones?: 3/7
Day 7 - Drones? What drones?: 4/7
Day 7 - Drones? What drones?: 5/7
Day 7 - Drones? What drones?: 6/7
Day 7 - Drones? What drones?: 7/7
Day 8 - Smiley's hole: 1/7
Day 8 - Smiley's hole: 2/7
Day 8 - Smiley's hole: 3/7
Day 8 - Smiley's hole: 6/7
Day 8 - Smiley's hole: 7/7
Day 9 - The Wobbly-leg Frogger: 1/9
Day 9 - The Wobbly-leg Frogger: 2/9
Day 9 - The Wobbly-leg Frogger: 3/9
Day 9 - The Wobbly-leg Frogger: 5/9
Day 9 - The Wobbly-leg Frogger: 6/9
Day 9 - The Wobbly-leg Frogger: 7/9
Day 9 - The Wobbly-leg Frogger: 8/9
Day 9 - The Wobbly-leg Frogger: 9/9
Day 10 - Just another busy day: 1/?
Day 10 - Just another busy day: 2/?
Day 10 - Just another busy day: 3/?
Day 10 - Just another busy day: 4/?
Day 10 - Just another busy day: 5/7
Day 10 - Just another busy day: 6/7
Day 10 - Just another busy day: 7/7
Day 11 - Bleeding the poison out: 1/?
Day 11 - Bleeding the poison out: 2/?
Day 11 - Bleeding the poison out: 3/4
Day 11 - Bleeding the poison out: 4/4
Day ?? - Trust: Epilogue
Day 5 - Standard procedure: 8/8
Day 8 - Smiley's hole: 4/7
Day 8 - Smiley's hole: 5/7
Day 9 - The Wobbly-leg Frogger: 4/9
Day 0 - Prologue: 1/3
Day 1 - Shippy time: 1/9
Day 2 - Points: 7/9
Day 4 - Shipwrecked?: 6/7

Day 0 - Prologue: 2/3

While the vastly decreased number of changelings means more love for everyone despite fewer infiltrators, it also means that fixing collapsing tunnels and keeping the routes necessary for in-hive mobility is significantly more difficult. Drone jobs are more hectic than ever, but there’s one other major difference from before the new rules were implemented.

>BREAK TIME!<

“Wa-za-wha-wut?” 99448 stops clearing a caved-in crawl space, “Uhh, guys? I have a weird hive mind task here. I’m supposed to break something but there’s no pointer on the map.”

“Heeey, did anyone break a leg during worky time? Or are we supposed to do that now?” 99112, busy with digging upwards to connect two tunnels via an air vent, stops and just waits for an answer. Questioning the hive mind is, well, out of the question.

“Nope nope nope! Everyone whose first day this is, raise a hoof,” the veteran drone of the group, 47989, reacts quickly, knowing that some of its companions can sometimes get a bit proactive.

“Meee!” replies 99448.

“Me, but I can’t. Tunnel’s too small,” as expected, 99112 replies as well.

“Alrighty, come here,” 47989 instructs the two, pinging a spot on the hive mind map.

Of course, considering that fewer than thirty drones survived the return to the hive after the invasion, and that it took a lot of time and love to stabilize the situation, there are drones being woken up each day from spare eggs within deep caverns prepared for such a situation. The survivor drones have no idea what happened to the hive mind knowledge base to lose practically all information they used to look up whenever necessary, and neither the queen nor any other high ranks ever bothered telling them. That, however, meant that any scraps of experience with underground threats ranging from natural disasters to hostile creatures had to be passed down to each freshly awakened newbie.

Supposedly, the drones got their own tiny hive mind space to store whatever information they deemed useful for everyone, but no one knew how to find it or do anything with it, and asking high ranks has never been a good course of action if one wanted to avoid getting eaten.

When the three drones group up, 47989 starts leading the newbies away from their assigned work spots.

“So, break time is kinda weird,” the drone rubs a deep scar in the chiting on the back of its head, “We’re not sure what to do, but we’re not supposed to sleep or work. That’s why it’s not sleepy time or worky time. I think 387 once said he wanted us to… ‘organically figure something out’. What that means is a mystery, but we think that a drone who figures it out will become closer to High Score somehow.”

“My thinking sponge is an organ! Perhaps that’s a clue,” 99448 gasps.

“And thinking means figuring things out!” 99112 vigorously nods.

“See? You’re halfway there and you hatched only 14 hours ago,” 47989 beams, heading through the tunnels with the duo in tow, “Anyway, so far we’ve been using break time for the things we used to do whenever we managed to finish our tasks earlier without a high rank noticing.”

“What do you do?”

“First, we examine anything that hurts, stings, itches, or slows us down. If needed, we patch up what little we can. Finally, we trade.”

“Trade what?”

“Anything interesting, really,” 47989 shrugs, “Did you find anything shiny, useful, or weird in a way that doesn’t try to eat us?”

“Oooh ooh ooh!” 99112 raises its foreleg, “I got some shiny lint in my leg hole, look!” it presents it to 47989.

“Neat! Someone might find it interesting and offer something of theirs for it. It’s hard to say.”

“Awww… I’ve got nothing,” pouts 99448.

“That’s alright,” 47989 pats its head, “It took me days to find my first nice and round stone. I traded it for a stick that fit through both my leg holes at the same time. You don’t see that every day!”

“Woooooow!” both drones look at their forelegs, “Do you still have it?”

47989 shakes its head.

“Nope. The cave where I kept my stash collapsed while we were gone.”

“Awwww…”

“It happens,” 47989 shrugs, “Besides, thanks to the new rules I got to keep a shiny I found last month. It fits in my leg hole, it’s green, and it sparkles!” when it sees 99448 bend its neck to the ground, it adds, “I got it tucked away in my new stash so that I don’t lose it while digging. I’ll show you in a moment. We’re almost there.”

47989 slips through a heavily reinforced crack in a tunnel wall that almost immediately widens into a short, smoothed-out tunnel. What lies behind is something… unimaginable by most changelings who never left Badlands no matter the rank. The hive’s current ratio of drones to ranked changelings is around two to one, and the vast majority of the two hundred drones must already be here for whatever this ‘break time’ is.

So… regarding the ‘here’.

It’s a cavern, everything large enough that’s underground is. This one, however, could compare to Canterlot castle throne room in size and shape. Numerous pillars support the ceiling, randomly scattered from the inconspicuous entrance all the way to the back. The walls are baseline smooth but covered by scratched pictograms. There are two short sets of stairs, one on each side of the entry tunnel, both leading onto a walkway lining the entire place. In the back, these two lead up to another floor, and those in turn wind back to the entrance area, and to the top floor near the ceiling. None of this is necessary, not even particularly useful since changelings can see in the dark perfectly as well as fly, but coupled with the shimmering globs of green goop dotting everything it looks completely out of place and absolutely stunning.

For some reason, there’s also a fairly steep… slide leading from the top floor down. A slide currently occupied by a drone jumping on the smooth rock while yelling “Wheeee!”.

Compared to everywhere else, this place is loud, filled with buzzing of wings and chatter of drones not talking via hive links.

47989 leads the stunned duo into the center of the, for lack of a better word, cathedral, where it finally stops and faces a life-sized statue of a drone on the back of which sits a plush toy of a dark blue alicorn radiating a tiny but constant amount of love. It has seen better days, clearly. On the other hole, the drone statue is as majestic as a drone could imagine. Its carapace is made of smooth, obsidian glass. It has a sapphire instead of each eye, and- well, that’s it. Drones don’t have any particular distinguishing characteristics. However, if there’s something special about the drone, it’s its determined look forward.

A stone tablet is glued to its two hooves high base which, uniquely to this place, bears letters instead of pictures:

[HIGH SCORE]

Author's Note

I decided to at least publish the prologue during one week and then it'll be the usual weekly schedule.

Day 0 - Prologue: 3/3

[HIGH SCORE]

Faced with the inspiring statue, the two newbies look down and 47989’s hive link instinctively shares the knowledge required for reading.

“We asked 387 to help us write it in proper scribbles to make it so that even a pony would know who this was,” 47989 answers the unspoken question out loud, “High Score was the best drone to ever live. It did things that might sound completely impossible but that just proves how amazing a drone it was.”

“Whoooooah,” 99112 touches the statue’s leg reverently.

“What did it do?” asks 99448.

“It could make high ranks not eat us… sometimes. It could also dig tunnels so quickly that it already had sleepy time while it was still worky time,” 99112’s jaw drops when 47989 says that, “ And one time a bitey melter bit High Score. After five days of excruciating pain, the bitey melter died. Still, if you want to know the full story, you gotta find the Potatoes.”

“Whozzat?” 99448 tilts its head.

“The drones who were with High Score before it went on to destroy the ultimate evil dream bad guy alongside 65536 and the soup princess. I was there only for the big fight,” 47989 smiles, “Fun times. Scary but fun. Fary? Scun? Combining words is hard. Anyway, this place is for all of us to remember High Score and for you new guys to know there’s someone who watches over you and inspires you to do your best even when you feel small, the tunnel is collapsing, and everything feels too tough.”

“Awwww!” 99112 smiles.

“Speaking of the Potatoes,” 47989 nods towards the raised dais in the back under the balcony where 36658, 20100, and 57999 are in the middle of a chat, “There they are. Looks like we made it in time, they’re about to start.”

It approaches the trio with 99112 in tow.

“Hi, guys!” 47989 greets them, “Whose turn is it today?”

“Mine!” 57999 beams, “I’ll be talking about the time High Score dealt with a wall of fake changelings side by side with 387. But I decided to make it special this time - it’ll be a tractor.”

“What’s that?”

“I won’t just be talking. We’ll play pretend to show everyone how it went.”

“Woooow, I love the idea!” 47989 stops its hooves in excitement, “Who’s playing the wall?”

“I got a bunch of newbies to help!” 57999 gives it a proud smile, “I’m playing High Score and I asked a few guys to practice standing on each other.”

“Buuut the fake changelings were flying,” 47989 tilts its head.

“True, true,” 57999 doesn’t lose any of its enthusiasm, “But this way I can make them trip and have the whole wall crumble.”

“Buuut that’s not what happened,” 47989 keeps poking the holes in the story, “At least I think, but I can be wrong. I have had rocks fall on me a bunch of times since then. Some were pretty heavy.”

“No, no, you’re remembering it correctly,” 57999 doesn’t stop smiling for a moment, “But doesn’t my version just sound way more, you know, High Score-y?”

“Ooooh!” 47989 finally nods in understanding, “Can’t argue with that. That would make for a much better play- uhh- tractor.”

“Yup! 36658 is playing 387 and 20100 will be 156.”

“I’m the mean but eventually kind-hearted infiltrator!” 20100 bounces up and down.

“And I’m a smarty warrior who argues with you but deep down I like you and we hug in secret when no one is looking!” 36658 grins.

“Eeeeee, I can’t wait!” 47989’s eyes go wide before-

>10013<

“Gasp! That’s a drone number!” 47989 blinks when the hive mind starts publicly broadcasting, making the buzzing and chatter all around stop as all the gathered drones start looking around.

>20100, 36658<

“Those too!” 99448 concludes after a brief moment of deep thinking.

99111, 99526, 99380, :-)<

“Eeep! That was almost me,” 99112 hugs 99448 for safety, “Wait, what was that last one?”

>93, 387. Everyone, report to the throne room immediately!<

The order is followed by every mentioned changeling’s mind lighting up with a marker on the shared hive map. Granted, most ranked changelings know precisely where the throne room is, but in the case of drones that’s certainly not true.

“Awww…” 57999 pouts, “GUYS, WHO WANNA PLAY 387 AND 156 TODAY INSTEAD OF 36658 AND 20100?”

Among the chorus of ‘me me me!’s, the seven called out drones gather at the High Score memorial exit, look back at everyone, and leave without a word. Everyone knows the rules:

If we don’t come back, whoever finds our stash gets to keep what’s in there.

***

10013 withers under the gaze of two warriors guarding the entrance to the throne room, pulling its head between its shoulders. The other five drones are visibly shaking, and it’s clear that the only thing stopping them from running away is the hive mind marker pulsating inside their head… and the knowledge that if either of the warriors wanted to do anything to them there would be nothing to save them. As for Smiley, it sits down behind everyone else, waiting for what’s about to happen.

“W-We’re supposed t-to go in…” peeps 10013.

The left warrior scoffs but nods sideways to a small, oval hole next to him. As he touches the black wall with his hoof, the hole expands into a fully functional, still oval, entrance.

“T-Thank you,” 10013 forces a polite smile before heading in. It probably won’t help but it can’t hurt.

The throne room is vast, dwarfing the High Score’s memorial, but it’s just a cavern, not actual architecture. In its center sits a large throne made of black rock not found anywhere else in the hive. The eyes of the three new drones go wide as they see the queen for the first time, and even the survivors of the Canterlot invasion who only met her for a short while after surviving their return to the hive feel a little unreal.

Right under the throne there are three ranked changelings, two female infiltrators and one male warrior whom the hive mind identifies as 93, 156, and 387. Just like giving drones break time and other freedoms, the new rules allow ranked changelings a custom trait in their natural form, which 387 used to simply change the color of his carapace to mossy dark green. 156, having often been picked for her experience over the few existing higher ranked changelings whenever the queen decided to leave the hive, is sporting a corset-like decoration on her barrel. 93, for reasons unknown to the drones, decided to grow a grey mane that’s now tied to a smooth ponytail.

10013 breathes out, tripping as it takes a step forward and its forelegs tangle on each other but catching itself before it can faceplant on the floor.

“W-we’re here, Your M-Majesty.”

AS IF SHE DIDN’T KNOW, YOU DUMMY!

To its surprise, Chrysalis actually smiles at the drone group as she sits up, giving them something close to a heart attack.

“Now will you talk?” 387 rolls his eyes at the queen, earning a furious glare from 93.

“You will not speak to the queen in this manner-” she hisses at him.

“The energy of youth,” 387 snickers, nudging 156, “She reminds me of old you.”

156 just smacks the back of his head.

“Well done, 156,” Chrysalis nods at her and levitates up a small tube, “Now that everyone is finally here, I assume you want to know why.”

“...you think…?!” 387 mutters, glaring.

“Then, with no further ado - here it is!” Chrysalis unscrews the top of the tube, presenting a floating piece of gold-foiled paper to 387, “We, as a new, allied power in Equestria, received an invitation to a cruise followed by a stay in an island holiday resort, all expenses paid. The goal seems to be to get to know other members of nobility from all over the continent.”

“Who in all holes invited us?” asks 387 immediately, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

In response, Chrysalis beams.

“The baroness of Northern San Palomino herself and her partner.”

“You’re saying that as if I should know them,” 387 tilts his head.

“You really need to get out more,” Chrysalis shakes her head in fake pity, “However, whether you know or don’t know them is immaterial. The cruise ship leaves from Manehattan in a week, and it’s a long trek from here. So pack up anything you deem useful and we’re leaving in two hours.”

“Just… one final question, if you don’t mind.”

“I do mind, but what wouldn’t I suffer for such a precious member of my hive, right?” Chrysalis keeps her cool, which is only more of a reason for 387 to distrust her.

“If this really is just a polite invitation from some politician to get us to know the, ugh, cream of the Equestrian crop, then why are you taking a bunch of drones and only one warrior and one infiltrator as your retinue? That’s… dangerous to you, if nothing else.”

Chrysalis doesn’t even flinch at the question.

“Your concern for my safety is appreciated, 387, and in the same way I can only ascribe my decision to having learned a little from you as well. After all, wouldn’t you say that drones are the least threatening members of our species, and as such the most suited to being seen in public, considering our current situation? Besides, you were all about showing them what the world outside of the deep tunnels looks like, and now you have the chance.”

With a sigh, 387 admits he lost. He looks up at smiling Chrysalis lounging on the throne one more time before turning around to leave.

“I understand, Your Majesty. Drones, meet me here in twenty minutes,” he pings a hive map location, “Bring everything you’ve got in your stashes and I’ll help you pick anything that might be useful on the trip.”

“Will do!” 10013 nods, and all drones rush out.

387 leaves the throne room as well.

She’s not THAT stupid, so what’s her angle?

Author's Note

So, the prologue is done. This is the style the story will follow, so if there are any issues about clarity, now'S a good time to point them out.

Day 1 - Shippy time: 2/9

387 is standing in front of what the staff member leading him and the group of drones through the cruise ship corridors pointed out as the royal suite for Queen Chrysalis.

“Your Majesty, we’re here,” he broadcasts. A moment later, Chrysalis opens the door and looks down in disdain at the assembled group.

“Huh, everyone is accounted for,” she raises an eyebrow, “I was kind of expecting at least one of you to get lost.”

“I accidentally found the sliding room!” reports 99111, “And a pony threw a chewy bubble brick at me.” it shrinks as 387 shoots it a glare, “I apologized and gave it back even before you dragged me out. And I only took one bite…”

“Mare showers?” she asks 387 flatly.

“Yes,” the warrior nods.

“Did you find the servant quarters?”

“Already marked on the map.”

“Good job. Now, you and 93 will take the hoofmaiden cabin next to mine. The drones can divide the two servants’ quarters downstairs any way they want. Let’s have them show some problem solving capabilities, how about that?”

“They could still use a basic objective, Your Majesty.”

Chrysalis looks over the drones again before sniffing the air and saying.

“Get cleaned up. We can’t have you representing the changeling hive filthy like this.”

Green flames envelop the drones in an instant, and the grime of travelling turns into fine black ash blending with the color of their carapace but still caked on it.

“All done,” 10013 salutes, a small pile of dust dropping on the floor.

Chrysalis narrows her eyes.

“Hence what I was saying about the clear objective,” 387 sighs, “I’ll take care of this.”

“Fine, I’m going to have a proper bath. Don’t bother me,” she returns into her suite.

387 points towards the next door.

“Inside. Now!”

The cabin is fully furnished with a table bolted to the floor in the center under the porthole, two wardrobes, two beds on the opposite sides of the room, and a big chest next to each one. A door leading into the side room is closed, and from behind it they can hear running water and sense the presence of 93’s hive link.

As the drones trot inside, 387 stops them just by the door and points at the black smears on the carpet around them.

“That’s what the Queen meant,” he says, “Now, I don’t know why she wanted you here-”

“She said she wanted us to see how ponies are, don’t you rememb-” 36658 shuts up when faced with 387’s intense stare.

“That was a lie,” he whispers, “And I intend to figure out the truth.”

“Then what are we supposed to be doing?” asks 10013, “It’s not sleepy time, or worky time, or even breaky time.”

“Undefined time is confusing time…” mumbles 99380.

387 rubs his temples.

“Look, you’re on a big break so think of this as one very long break time until someone wants something from you.”

“Breaky time-” 36658 corrects the warrior.

10013 slams its hoof into 36658’s mouth the instant 387’s eyes start to bulge.

“Gotcha!” 20100 nods before tilting its head, “Wait, does that mean we can’t sleep until we get back home? That’s what sleepy time’s for.”

387’s temple rubbing is suddenly failing to at least slow down the encroaching migraine.

“No no no… ugh. We’re setting up a new time. You listening?” he asks and they all nod, “This is all trip time with a fresh set of rules. Understood?”

“Trippy time!” 99380 nods as things get much clearer.

“Oh, just like that time when I tried making a new version of agonyslayers by licking that colorful slimy hopper-” 36658 nods knowingly.

“NO! NEVERMIND!” 387 facehoofs with an audible crack, “New name - it’s ship time.”

“Shippy time,” smiles 99111.

“I will slap y- yes, shippy time,” he sighs in defeat, “Shippy time is like breaky time but you can sleep. You might even have to work too but only when someone explicitly asks you to.”

“Explicitly like swearing or…” asks 10013.

“The other explicit,” 387’s eye twitches.

“Understood,” 10013 nods, “I asked because we get both of those a lot. I think we cleared everything up, right, guys?” it looks at its fellow drones.

“About digging…?” peeps 99526.

“NO DIGGING!” 387 barks, “Under any circumstances. If you make a hole in the ship we’ll sink and if by any miracle you survive, I will personally make sure you regret living for the rest of your short time because if you prove to be a burden or even a direct problem then the Queen will connect your failures with those of every drone back home. She might even order you to collapse the shrine to High Score and wipe your minds to forget everything about it. Understood?”

*Gasps all around!*
*Nod nod nod nod!*
*Spoooooked face!*

“Good,” 387 continues, “10013, you’re in charge of the drones here. First, you’re to find your two cabins and then get cleaned up properly, soap and everything.”

“Yes, 387!” 10013 looks around with a determined expression, “We can’t disappoint High Score so we gotta be the cleanest and shiniest drones ever. Let’s go!”

“Yaaaay!”

The drones march off, leaving behind a faint black trail.

“Why do I know this will end badly no matter what I say?” whispers 387 and sits down into the stomped layer of black ash by the door left behind by the drones. No reason to dirty anything else until he takes a bath himself.

***

After such a long time of walking through open fields and forests, the narrower corridors of the cruise ship, albeit still easily wide enough for entire carts, feel so much more like home. Unfortunately, that’s where the good part for 10013 ends, because it can understand perfectly why the clumped up drones behind it are so uncharacteristically silent. The deck where the higher ranked passenger cabins are is filled with stern-looking, armed and in some cases armored escorts of all sorts, none of whom look even remotely pleased with the changelings being there, shooting them dirty glares through narrowed eyes.

Despite all that, 10013 leads the way, supported by the knowledge that the Queen would probably be at least mildly angry if something happened to any of them. That is, until one of those leather-clad warrior zebras 36658 noticed earlier steps in front of 10013, looks down, and ask in a stern voice:

“May I have a word, changelings?”

10013 stops and looks up. The group behind it shuffles backwards with the exception of Smiley who… smiles.

“W-We gotta go- go downstairs and get c-cleaned up. Umm, top orders. Sorry,” 10013’s ears fold back.

To its surprise, the zebra gives it a puzzled glance before stepping aside and adding:

“I didn’t mean to frighten you. The baron of Northern San Palomino, however, would be interested in talking to you when you have a moment,” she nods to the door she’s guarding.

“W-We’ll tell the Queen-”

“I was specifically told to ask one of you, not your Queen or any, as he called them, ‘high rank’.”

10013 blinks in surprise.

“Oh… okay,” it nods, its voice steadier now that it doesn’t look like any kicking is on the way, “We’ll see what we can do,” it pauses, “Umm, thank you for being nice.”

The zebra is clearly at loss for words, so she only nods. One awkward moment of silence later, the drones resume walking.

“...she was so big…”

“Oh goop, I completely forgot to check how she tastes,” 36658 facehoofs after a while.

“I wouldn’t risk making a nice zebra mad by biting her,” 10013 shakes its head.

“I WOULD ASK FIRST!” huffs 36658 indignantly.

“And if she said no?”

“I would wibble,” replies 36658, clearly proud of its plan.

“And if she still said no?”

“Uhh, wibble more?” 36658 loses some of its decisiveness.

“Aaaand if attempt number three fails too?”

“Then I know she’s a soulless gribbler in disguise and I run.”

“Fair point,” 10013 leads the way down a staircase onto the servant deck.

Day 1 - Shippy time: 3/9

The corridors of the servant deck are significantly busier, and the drones scoot over to the wall to avoid servants running around with stacks of clothes, trays filled with boxes, or simply trotting past them and passing on messages from their superiors. The good parts are that they’ve been here once before when 387 was looking for their cabins as well as the servants paying them barely any attention, so their progress is unimpeded.

Finally, they’re in front of the door. There’s just one problem - two cabins.

“Riiight,” 10013 speaks out loud for the first time, “We were supposed to split up. Any ideas?”

*Crying face.* *Crying face.* *Crying face.*

Despite Smiley’s strange mental communication, it only tilts its head when 20100 nudges it with its muzzle and its expression remains on the positive side.

“Is anything wrong, buddy?” asks 36658, “Did anyone smack you on the way here and we didn’t notice?”

Smiley shakes its head and repeats its mental message.

*Crying face.* *Crying face.* *Crying face.*

“Do you… not want to split up?” 10013 takes a wild guess.

Smiley nods. Smiley shakes its head. Smiley points down the hallway.

“I’m stumped. Everyone up for following Smiley? We can figure out how to split up in the meantime.”

A chorus of nods and shrugs later, 10013 looks at Smiley.

“Lead the way.”

Smiley only walks two doors down and stops in front of it.

“That’s the sliding room!” 99111 adds its two bits to the conversation of the veteran drones.

Smiley points at the door.

*Crying face.* *Crying face.* *Crying face.*

“Uhh, I don’t think I want to eat more bubble brick,” 99111 shakes its head.

10013 takes a deep breath, reaches up for the handle, and enters a small, tiled square room filled with lockers on the opposite end of which is an opaque plastic curtain currently drawn to the side, leaving a clear view of a classically white, black-striped zebra mare sitting under a shower nozzle who immediately looks at the drone. Contrary to 99111’s previous visit, nothing gets thrown, so the clump of drones simply enter.

“Water! That’s what Smiley meant. Running water,” finally realizes 10013, before turning to Smiley, “You did, did ya?”

*Happy face.*

20100 pokes 10013’s who looks away from Smiley before nodding towards the mare in the separated section of the room who is now watching them with an expression of keen curiosity. The drones wouldn’t recognize it, of course, but the zebra’s physical proportions are the perfect mix of shapely and thick that could make any stallion turn into a stuttering mess. However, contrary to the zebra who stopped them upstairs, this one doesn’t sport any combat scars so she might not be affiliated with the militaristic group. Finally, contrasting with the guard zebra’s short, black and white mohawk, this mare’s long mane is a mix of grey and pink.

Faced with a stare of her pink eyes boring into its soul, 99380 hides behind 10013 and nudges the leader drone who takes a deep breath to steady itself.

10013, you’re in charge here. Make High Score proud.

“Umm, hello, miss,” 10013 starts, “We were told to get cleaned up but, umm, all the water is on the outside of this big ship. Smiley here thought this, uhh, could be the place where we could do it on the inside.”

The mare nods. When she speaks out, her voice is silky smooth and peaceful.

“Your silent friend was right. Come here,” as the drones look at 10013 first, she adds, “Don’t be afraid,” she stands up as they enter the second room which envelops the locker room like a big C and is filled with shower nozzles separated only by thin plastic panels, “Do you need help?”

“I think we should kinda figure this out by ourselves,” 10013 shakes its head, “We’re supposed to be learning about stuff.”

The mare giggles.

“I can understand that,” she turns around, grabs a bottle, and pours its contents over her mane, “Well, if you need any help, don’t be afraid to ask. I think you’ll find that most common ponies are rather pleasant if you get to know them.”

“Thank you!” 10013 smiles. Things are looking up.

“Alright, guys. Let’s go and figure this water thingy out.”

All seven drones huddle under one nozzle and look up. The hive mind presents no tooltip, and the nozzle completely fails to start spewing.

“Water?” asks 99526.

“Water, please?” adds 36658.

The nozzle remains stubbornly dry.

10013 starts exploring a metal panel with a vertical handle centered under the nozzle. It peeks into the zebra mare’s separated shower segment for some inspiration. She notices immediately despite 10013 being quiet, turns her head, and nudges the handle to the side which makes the torrent that’s washing over her shift slightly before returning to rubbing her now extremely bubbly and foamy mane.

10013 returns with the newfound knowledge and pushes the handle to the side.

Nothing happens.

Trickery!

10013 peeks over again. Three more heads follow it, one under its own and two above to see what it’s looking at. Without turning her head this time, the mare rinses off her long mane and pushes the handle towards the wall which makes the water stop. As she passes by 10013 on her way back to the locker room she kicks her brick of soap towards the drones.

“You might want to try this,” she says with a snicker as the drones surround the soap, all sniffing it at once. 99111 licks it, “No, it’s not for eating.”

10013 furrows its nonexistent brows. The mare wasn’t looking their way.

“99111, I charge you with figuring out the bubble brick,” says 10013 while fiddling with the handle, this time successfully.

As the lukewarm water starts washing the black grime off of 10013, the drone figures out one final problem.

“Guys? I think all seven of us under one nozzle is a bit too much.”

A short moment later, over half of the shower stalls are occupied by changelings buzzing happily under customized water temperatures and pressures, wings spread and scrubbing every nook and cranny their hooves can reach. The buzzing and running water are the only sounds for some time until-

“AH FGHURRED AHT TH BUBBBLLB BRIK!” gurgles out 99111 through a waterfall of green foam coming out of its mouth, jumping out of its stall and sliding over the wet tiles until it hits the wall which does nothing to curb its enthusiasm.

The others turn their showers off as one and slide over to 99111, smacking the wall like tiny bumper cars. 99111 coughs out the rest of the foam and presents half of the bubble brick with bite marks.

“If you just rub this on you, it just washes off,” it says, sliding over to the nearest shower and demonstrating, “But if you eat a chunk and then turn it into goop,” it throws up a vaguely ball-shaped green glob, “it cleans everything!”

Under the goop rubbing, the black ash goes down easily. Some experimentation later, it turns out that the only one who can produce the goop with enhanced cleaning properties is 99111, so it eats the rest of the soap and distributes the resulting globs to everyone.

It doesn’t take long this time, and most drones are squeaky clean. While waiting for everyone to finish, 36658 curls up on the wet floor and 20100 shoves it as hard as it can. 36658, unfortunately, moves the wrong way and its trajectory ends with it bumping against the wall and bouncing into the wrong stall.

“Wheee!” 99526 slides over to 20100, “What’cha doing? Looks fun.”

“It doesn’t have a name yet but you curl up and the other drone pushes you so that you land in the right spot. Then you switch. I think it only works on these smooth thingies, though,” it runs its hoof over the tiles.

“Why make it difficult to remember? How about just curling?” offers 99526.

“Spoken like a smart drone!” 36658 beams, sliding back to 20100, “Curling it is.”

10013 finishes up and joins the sliding drones.

“Okay, guys. I think we can report to 387 that we’re all clean,” it tries to tap into the warrior’s hive link and finds that it can’t feel it at all, “Uhhh, can anyone sense 387?”

“I can, but I can’t even poke him,” 99380 frowns.

Everyone else shakes their heads.

Ooookay. Up the chain of command it is then.

“93, calling 93?”

“The changeling going by 93 is currently unavailable. Please, try calling later,” comes through her hive link.

Oh goop. Was there any drone ever who did what I’m about to do?

“Umm, Your Majesty,” 10013 pokes the powerful Queen’s link with utmost care.

“Taking a hot bath, sent 93 out, 387 is whatever. You have your orders!”

The link locks up.

10013 looks around, suddenly feeling incredibly alone.

I wonder if this is how High Score felt when it was left in charge…

It takes a deep breath to steady its nerves.

What we do here will reflect on all drones back home.

***

Several minutes later, the dried up drones are all inside one of their two cabins.

The servant cabin is made for four ponies and incredibly cramped, sporting a set of two hammocks on each side, one hanging above the other. A small table is bolted to the floor right under the porthole, and there are two shallow wardrobes next to the door from each side, one reaching up to the low ceiling, presumably for hanging clothes, and a small one serving as a secondary table for anything else. Just like the showers, the toilets must be somewhere else on this deck.

However, none of the drones has touched anything yet, and all eyes are locked on 10013.

“I think we were supposed to be split up.” 36658 rubs its head, “Won’t 387 be mad?”

“I was thinking about the Queen’s orders-”

“That can be lethal!” gasps 36658.

“It can,” admits 10013, “buuut the point was for us to figure out how to split up, so… I assumed that zero was a number too.”

A moment of thinking later, 99380 gasps:

“It is!”

“So that means we can divide into, wait for it, all of us and none of us!”

“And that’s why you’re the one in charge!” 20100 nods, eyes wide in amazement, “That way we can watch each other’s backs.”

“Yup!” 10013 nods, “Now, how does everyone feel?”

“Squeaky clean.”
“Squeaky and clean.”
“Clean but with numb leggos.”
“Still burping bubbles.”
“A tiny bit hungry.”
*Happy yawning face.*

“36658, take a look at 99380’s legs. Everyone else, check for any cracks and leaks and goop those up. We can’t be bleeding all over the place,” orders 10013 and flies up on the top left hammock, “Imma check this web thingy.”

Somewhat safe in the knowledge that ponies wouldn’t let giant spiders onto the ship, 10013 pokes the hammock. Upon finding that it isn’t sticky, it sits down on its edge, steadying itself with its wings the moment it starts spinning.

Maybe if I stand on it?

The size of the hammock holes was clearly made with ponies in mind, not drones, and 10013’s legs slip, letting the drone fall cleanly through until stopped by its barrel.

“I’m caught! Run before the leggy spinners come!” it yelps.

On pure instinct, the other drones bolt, slam into the closed door, and bounce off. When they recover and look around, they stop.

“I don’t see any leggy spinner holes,” 20100 narrows its eyes, “Not even in the corners, and that’s prime leggy spinner territory.”

36658 licks the hammock.

“Not sticky, too. Maybe ponies learned something from leggy spinners and made these?”

99526 flies up and pokes 10013’s hanging leg.

“This looks kinda comfy. How does it feel?”

10013 has to admit that lying on the hammock, with its legs simply hanging through the holes, does feel surprisingly relaxing.

“Pretty nice with no leggy spinners around.”

“Can I try?” asks 99526.

“I mean, I can’t turn my head but if you’re saying it’s not dangerous…” 10013 shrugs.

99526 flies onto the hammock opposite 10013 and drops straight down.

“This feels amazing!” it starts swinging its legs through the air, “It’s like hovering but without using wings.”

Just over a minute later, each hammock has two drones stuck through it, happy to simply be hanging.

*Happy face!* *Happy face!* *Happy face!*

*DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT!*

*SPOOKED FACE!*
“What was THAT?!”
“Loooooud!”

With a lurch, the drones find themselves suddenly leaning to one side.

“We’re moving!” exclaims 20100, its head turned towards the porthole.

“I wanna look!” 36658 tries to free itself from the hammock by flailing and finds out that the uneven changeling legs get stuck on the ropes incredibly easily.

Embracing the gentle rocking of the now moving ship, the seven entangled and stuck drones slowly drift off to sleep.

Day 1 - Shippy time: 4/9

The drones wake up within the span of several seconds from each other despite the hive mind not announcing worky time for once. It’s just a habit ingrained so deep that not even their current completely alien surroundings can suppress it. Simply put, their standard four hour sleepy time is over, and they’re ready for action. Squeaky yawning fills the cabin for a moment before the drones look at 10013 as one.

“This is nice,” mumbles 99380, swaying its legs around, “But I kinda don’t feel like sleeping anymore.”

“Gimme a sec,” 10013 concentrates, “I’m gonna try to check up with 387 again.”

Unfortunately, 387 is still completely impossible to sense, so it taps into 93’s hive link instead.

“Hi, 93. We still can’t sense 387 and we don’t know what we’re supposed to be doing. Is everything okay?”

“As far as I know, there’s nothing problematic happening at the moment. I’m exploring the insides of this ship and assessing potential risks. Judging by the recently received mental map updates, 387 is doing the same even though he is hiding his presence. And the Queen is… well, that’s none of your business,” replies 93 immediately, “I am also not aware of any orders pertaining to your group, so you are free to do as you please until called for. Within limits, of course.”

“Thank you,” says 10013 politely, “Have a nice, umm, shippy time.”

No answer.

“Hmph…” 10013 pouts.

“Bad news?” asks 36658.

“Not really. No one needs us at the moment, so we can do… uhh… anything that’s not digging or that makes someone yell at us.”

“Oh…” 20100 tilts its head, “That’s new.”

And all of them look at 10013 who seems to be slowly realizing the horrors of responsible leadership. After some pondering, 10013 decides that small steps are the way to go and says:

“We should probably get out of these webby things first,” it tries to bend its legs to grab the holes in the hammock and pull itself up without any effect. As it watches others do the same it gets an idea. It simply lets its legs hang, spreads its wings, and buzzes directly upwards, carefully navigating its legs through the holes, “Ah hah! Got it!”

“Oooh, smart!” comments 99111, slowly floating upwards as well.

In only a few moments, the drones stand gathered in the center of the small room, feeling somewhat… off.

*Puzzled face.* *Confused face.* *Woozy face.*

“We’re all feeling that, Smiley,” says 10013 in response to the confused hive link message, “The ground is acting weird.”

The floor is moving. Slowly, extremely gently, rocking from side to side. Inside the hammocks, they felt something, but no discomfort as the net simply let them hang downwards no matter any outside motion. However, now on the floor, their biology completely unused to being on anything other than solid ground is complaining. Still, it won’t be a problem for long, because changelings are adaptive and nothing short of a tsunami can seriously destabilize something as huge as a cruise ship.

36658 recovers first, hopping on the table and saying:

“Eh, it’ll pass. It’s just like whenever I experiment with a new version of agonyslayers and overdo it,” it tries to shove its head into the porthole and slams its face into the glass, “Hey, there’s something invisible in the hole!” it pokes the glass, “I can’t get through.”

“Maybe it’s magic?” suggests 99526, “We saw a looot of unicorns get in with us.”

“Makes sense,” 10013 shrugs, looking around, “So we’ve got a table, a magic hole leading outside, and these box thingies,” it nods to the two wardrobes, “I’ll check the big one, you go look what’s inside the small one.”

The drones swarm the small wardrobe.

“How do we get in?”
“There’s no handle.”
“It’s a mystery box!”
“No digging!”
“Don’t shove me!”
“Don’t hit it!”
“I’m not hitting it, that’s exploratory poking.”
“With force?”
“It wasn’t responding to negotiations!”
“You didn’t say anything!”
“I gestured!”
“It doesn’t have eyes!”
“EXCUSES!”
“Hey, let’s try pulling?”
“Ouch! Stop that!”
“Try pulling it, not me, this time?”

10013 looks away from the disorganized mess and reaches for the handle on the big one. It responds without an issue and opens into a space vertically split into two halves, one with hanging sets of clothes and one filled with shelves covered in sheets and various utility items.

“My turn now!” says 99111, biting 20100’s tail stub.
“Hey, I didn’t get mine yet!” objects the victim.
“You totally did! You just spent it all by staring.”
“That was an examination and it doesn’t count.”
“It does! I want examee-nay-shun it too!”

“STOP PULLING MEEEEE- oh?” 20100 grabs the top of the wardrobe at the end of the quick exchange and, as 99111 pulls it hard, the top lifts slightly, “Whoah whoah, I think we got it!”

“Really?” 99111 stops immediately and climbs on 20100’s back to see over the clump of other drones. 20100 lifts the top, revealing it only has one hinge on the side that’s against the wall, “Uhh, white stuff?” it pokes the revealed bed sheets and larger covers which wouldn’t fit into the small shelves of the tall wardrobe, “Soft white stuff.”

“Waaaaait!” 99380 calls out loudly. When everyone looks at it, it asks, “What if it’s someone’s stash? We never go through someone’s stash unless they’re dead. Them’s the rules, one of you veterans told me. Uhh, right?”

They all look at 10013 who starts carefully folding a pillow case it grabbed earlier, blows at it, and puts it neatly back on the shelf.

“Good thinking,” it admits, “I guess we shouldn’t mess with things until someone tells us it’s okay.”

All activity stops and the drones look at each other expectantly. The first to vocalize the incoming question is 99111:

“What do we do then?”

Once again, all eyes end on 10013.

*Gulp!*

“Hmm… What would High Score do in this situation?” it mumbles.

“Ask the high ranks?” suggests 20100.

“We already did that.”

“Sleep?” is 36658’s idea.

“We did that too.”

“Nothing?” offers 99526.

“That’s what we were doing the whole trip here,” 10013 shakes its head.

“Did we finish?” adds 99526.

10013 rubs its chin before hopping onto the table and looking out of the porthole. The sea sparkling in late afternoon sunlight reflects in its eyes, making it smile and filling it with courage.

Of course!

It turns back to the others.

“The outside is full of shinies! All we have to do is look. High Score wouldn’t sit here. It would go out, explore, and find shinies to bring back to us. Unfortunately, since High Score is resting in the great gablonk right now, it’s up to us to be our own Shiny Bringers!” 10013 vigorously points at the cabin door, “ONWARDS!”

They huddle around the door. 36658 reaches for the handle and opens it. As the noise of everyone working all over the servant deck floods in, they hesitate and look at 10013 again.

It stops in the door frame, peeks outside, takes a deep breath, and walks into the corridor.

“Nothing is trying to eat or kick me,” it looks back at the six drone heads lining the sides of the door frame, “I think we’re good.”

36658 strides out next.

“Hey, 20100. Since we’re the only Potatoes here, it’s up to us to try and spread the word about Hgh Score the Shiny Bringer to the nice ponies everywhere.”

“Umm, can we look for some more paper for my moving pictures on the way?” asks 20100.

“Obviously! High Score will provide a way for us to be good drones, and if we pass we’ll get all the paper we deserve. Well, that you deserve. I’ve got my own thing.”

“Yay for High Score the Shiny Bringer and drawings that move!” exclaims 20100 and the two trot off in a random direction. Since it’s a hallway, 36658 simply leads the way right because the right way can’t be wrong. That’s big brain logic.

99111 takes a deep breath before stepping out next.

“I think us newbies should find our own way,” it says, “I respect you vets and your experience, but all that talk about High Score is… I dunno. I want to be a good drone because of myself, not because of some tiny part of High Score that might or might not be inside me.”

“High Score wouldn’t want it any other way,” 10013 smiles.

“Grumble grumble grumble!” huffs 99111, turning away and walking left.

99526 and 99380 exchange glances.

“Do you have anything for us to do?” asks 99526.

10013 shrugs.

“Not yet. I think that what 99111 said -about the exploration, not about High Score- sounded reasonable. How about you head out and just try your luck? 93 shared with us the updated map of the ship and it’s big but not too big, so if you stay linked up there’s always bound to be someone in range who can help you or call the high ranks.”

99380 walks over and gives 10013 a hug.

“Umm, thanks for being smart when we’re not,” it mumbles and trots off alongside 99526.

10013 finds itself smiling again and facing one final drone smiling back.

“How about you, Smiley? Feeling a little overwhelmed by all this novelty?”

The Silent walks up close to 10013 and licks its nose.

“You wanna go with me?”

To 10013’s surprise, Smiley shakes its head and leaves with a mental message of:

*Worried face.* *Happy face.* *Curious face.* *Curious face.* *Curious face.*

Left alone, 10013 takes a deep breath again.

Welp, even Smiley left before I can even get my legs to move again. Greeeat start, 10013.

“High Score wouldn’t stand here, scared, even though it can stand faster than any drone can run. It would go outside to find anything that could help it make things better for other drones!”

Day 1 - Shippy time: 5/9

“Hello!” 36658 smiles at a tall, white earth pony wearing a dark red vest with a bright red pin bearing a golden pony head raised up, “Do you want to hear about High Score the Shiny Bringer?”

“Привет а также hет,” rumbles the stallion busily, not slowing his pace as he pushes a trolley filled with neatly arranged plates containing what’s probably some cuisine from the pony’s homeland.

To the changelings, obviously, neither the language nor the food mean anything, but the lack of aggression in his voice and absence of any shoving or kicking bodes well.

“You know,” 20100 scoots closer to the wall to let two more trolleys going in the opposite directions pass, “I didn’t realize it until now, but out of our group the two of us have the most experience with ponies.”

“Huh…” 36658 scratches its head, “I think that makes us the ambassadists of all drones. We gotta represent.”

“What does that mean?”

“No idea, but I feel like High Score will provide an answer.”

“Then we gotta head downstairs,” 20100 nods sideways to the staircase.

“How come?” asks 36658.

“Well,” 20100 points at the signs above the stairs, “Deck one - cruise services. Deck two - nobility. Deck three - retinue. Deck four - staff. Deck five - maintenance. As the most skilled drone, High Score would be as far down as possible so it will be the easiest to hear it there.”

“Huh,” 36658 ponders it as it heads down the stairs to the staff deck, it asks a question, “Does it mean that the great gablonk is all the way down and High Score is looking up at us?”

“Makes sense to me,” says 20100, “Things are always looking up when High Score is around.”

“You’re a genius!” 36658 pats 20100’s head, which isn’t a smart thing to do on a staircase, and it tumbles all the way down, “Whoah! That was fun,” it stands back up, unharmed due to its carapace, “Note to self - this makes the world a little spinny.”

“Staff deck…” 20100 examines multiple plaques on the opposite wall of the even narrower corridor than on the upper decks, “Look!” it gasps, pointing at one, “Celestial Seas Catering - Cooking with love.”

“Wooow…” 36658’s jaw drops, “How do you think they do that?”

“Let’s go ask! I tried Miss Ladle’s stew once and it was delicious, but if we learned how to add love to it too that would be so amazing!” 20100 hops up and down, “We gotta learn their secrets.”

Following the arrow on the plaque, they stop by a double door with a round window in each wing, behind which they can hear constant chatter, occasional yelling, and clanking of metal. There doesn’t seem to be any handle on it, so 36658 simply pushes through, somewhat surprised that the door just gives way.

The chaos begins.

“CHANGELIIIIIIIIIIIINGS!”

*Hissss!*

“AAAH!” screams a pony wearing a white apron covered in boiling soup he poured all over himself as he saw the changelings enter.

“Crap crap crap!” curse a mare next to him, backing away from the spreading boiling pool on the smooth floor while patting down her sprayed front.

A big earth pony stallion wearing a puffy, tall, white cap huffs and rolls his eyes.

“Celestia-damned jumpy Canties…” he whispers before raising his voice at the drones, “What the hay are you doing here? This is a kitchen and, as far as I can see, neither of you is a cook!”

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” 20100 points at the groaning burned pony lying on the floor and nudges 36658, “Do your thing, buddy!”

“Oh, right!” 36658 darts past the head chef towards the victim.

“HEY!” the head chef calls out.

“We, umm, we read that you can cook with love and, you know, we eat love, so we wanted to learn how you do that,” explains 20100.

“...what…?” the complete absurdity of the statement makes the head chef turn back to 20100.

Behind them, 36658 approaches the lightly boiled stallion who points its blistering foreleg at it and wheezes:

“No, no! Get away!”

36658 spits out a quickly hardening chip of green goop.

“Eat this, it’ll help with the pain.”

“No, no more cocoons or green goo! Go away!” the pony raises its voice into a grunt.

Stunned 36658 gets grabbed by another member of the aproned staff, this time a unicorn, who levitates up the green chip.

“What are you doing? What’s that?”

“I’m being completely stunned by someone being afraid of us drones. It’s usually us who get spooked by things, and for a good reason,” replies 36658 hanging like a cat grabbed under its forelegs with complete honesty, “And that thingy is an agonysl- nope, too technical right now. It’ll help with the pain. Successfully tested and recommended by 9 out of 10 changelings, and the last one just said it needed one more.”

“No weird mind control stuff?”

“We’re drones, we can’t do that. Only high ranks can do that. This just helps with the pain and might make you sleepy. I didn’t get to do that much testing on ponies but he’s a big guy so I made it a bit stronger than for us drones.”

“Alright,” the unicorn gives the chip to the burn victim, “Try it. If you start acting funny I’ll throw these two overboard myself.”

A mare helps the earth pony swallow, and a short moment later a dopey smile appears on his face as he relaxes and his head drops on the floor.

“A-eeah! Wheee! Do you know you’re all my very best friends…?” he mumbles.

“Stir Fry, keep an eye on him. You, changeling, come over here. Everypony else, get back to work! We’re a pony down already, we can’t be wasting time as well.”

36658 obediently walks over to 20100 and they both look up at the head chef.

“...whoehadhe…” they hear the drugged pony moan again, “...I can see shinies…”

“What sort of injuries do you use that drug for?” the head chef furrows his brows.

“The usual,” 36658 shrugs, “Crushed and broken legs, mostly.”

“Oh dear… that clears things up a bit,” he sighs, “I’m not going to press any charges regarding this but I have to ask you to leave-”

“You said you were one pony down. We can help!” 20100 interrupts him, “We can, uhh, carry stuff. And there’s two of us… that’s more than one even when we’re smaller.”

“We could use servers during the afternoon rush,” the head cook ponders, “Do you have a good memory and can you carry a tray?”

*Synchronized nodding.*

“You’re not getting paid or anything, though.”

“Can we check some of your food for love? That’s why we came here,” says 36658.

“I already said that,” adds 20100.

“Uh,” the chef pauses, “That’s just a figure of speech. We don’t really cook anything special for changelings.”

“Awww,” frowns 36658 before smiling again, “Oh well, we already offered, and High Score would never go back on its promise, so we gotta help.”

“For sure!” 20100 nods, “We’re still not starving so it’s okay.”

“How do you eat love anyway?” asks a cook in the back.

“No more time to chat!” the head chef interrupts as he sees 36658 open its mouth, “I’ll get a tray and show you what to do. There’s an elevator in the back that’ll take you all the way up to the main deck afterwards.”

36658 and 20100 hoofbump.

“Yay, worky time during shippy time!”

“Two times at the same time! We’re so efficient!”

Day 1 - Shippy time: 6/9

“Grumble grumble High Score grumble grumble!” 99111, on its own, heads through the servant deck. With no idea what annoyed grumbling actually entails, it just keeps repeating the word grumble punctuated by the source of its irritation, “I’m the one doing my job. I’m the one digging. I’m the one running away from flappy suckers. Grumble grumble, not some old drone.”

99111 looks at the staircase ahead.

“Grumble grumble High Score once dug so deep it fell back from the sky,” puffing its cheeks, it heads upstairs, “I’ll show the Potatoes that we can all be as good as their High Score. No matter what they say, it must have been just a drone like us. If High Score dug down, I’ll go up!”

It stops on the carpeted floor of the mostly completely silent nobility deck.

“Huh? Where did everyone go?” it looks from side to side, spotting another staircase leading up, “Nevermind. Up I go. Grumble grumble Shiny Bringer my butt. What does-”

It opens a door at the top of the stairs by pushing on a long handle and almost gets deafened by an explosion of voices.

“-that… even-”

Fresh breeze with a completely unique scent in contrast to the stale underground air it’s been breathing its entire life with the short exception of the trip to Manehattan assaults its nostrils.

“-mean…?”

And gets blinded by the low-hanging, late afternoon sun.

“Shinyyy…”

99111 simply stares directly ahead, mouth agape.

The vast main deck is filled with four categories of ponies. One must be the representatives - they’re sitting around and chatting, always surrounded by the second category of ponies - servants on duty running around, carrying drinks, food, or messages. Category three are the off-duty servants, enjoying numerous bars, several enormous swimming pools, or simply lying around on deck chairs and enjoying the sunlight. The final category are the cruise ship staff, manning the bar counters, wiping the deck, serving as security, carrying around drinks and food to the off-duty servants, or doing anything else that needs doing.

Breathe, breathe.

Maybe I should contact someone.

99111 instinctively scans the area for hive links nearby and finds… two completely unknown ones.

Huh?

It reaches out to the first one which feels similar to touching a high rank, and it closes up immediately. The drone can still sense it, so its owner isn’t trying to hide their presence, but any access including communication is now completely beyond 99111’s skills.

As it touches the second new link which feels more like it belongs to a drone, a mental voice replies immediately:

“Hiii! I’m really busy right now but I’ll find ya later and we’ll talk. I’m so excited to hear what’s been happening back in the hive since my last visit. Is 10013 okay? Did High Score come back already? Does 36658 still have its poppy patch? Wait! No! Sorry, can’t get distracted right now. See you later, bye!”

99111 just blinks, completely stunned. Who was that?

There’s just… too much stuff happening at the same time.

It takes a deep breath. The good part is that so far no one has yelled or thrown anything. In fact, no one seems to be paying 99111 any attention whatsoever. To a drone, that’s as good as things get.

Should I talk to the veterans?

No… no no no. They would just say some nonsense about High Score.

Courage, 99111. Courage.

Ah? A voice inside my head?

High Score?

Wait, no, that’s just me.

The first shaky steps out of the shadows are the worst, but 99111 soon breathes a sigh of relief as despite some ponies starting to notice it they simply don’t care. With the sides of the ship lined by various stands, bars, and ways to pass time, 99111 heads directly ahead to the massive swimming pool surrounded by luxurious deck chairs and umbrellas. Standing on the edge of the pool, it finally sees the familiar scheme of the zebra bombshell from the showers swimming past and being openly stared at by various stallions either standing around the pool or swimming in it.

The water of the pool moves, reflecting sunlight as hundreds of tiny, flickering dots. 99111 lies down and lets its forelegs dangle over the edge. It touches the water and tries to catch the shiny reflection.

Again and again.

Looking once again at the ponies enjoying themselves in the vast pool, 99111 decides to give it a shot too. After all, it seems that all they need to do is to get in the water and then occasionally flail their limbs around.

It stands up, breathes in, breathes out, takes a step over the edge…

…and sinks like a rock.

Its legs do nothing to slow down its descent. It opens its mouth to call for help and immediately chokes as it swallows water. Its lungs start burning within seconds, taking away any chance of 99111 concentrating enough to mentally call for help.

Despite the clear water, the edges of its vision grow dark.

High Score, help!

Please…

Finally, so does everything else.

99111 wakes up, coughing out water which, for some reason, feels like it’s coming out of its back. Opening its eyes, there’s a blurry shadow over it, and the front of its barrel hurts for some reason.

I’m alive…

Its vision finally stabilizes, revealing that the shadow is the shower zebra’s relieved face. She stops pressing her hooves against 99111’s barrel and asks:

“Are you okay?”

Trembling, 99111 sits up, expecting its carapace to be cracked due to the pressure of the mare’s hooves. However, for some reason its carapace is soft like skin. So… squishy and offering no protection. 99111 immediately shapeshifts back into its hardened drone self, feeling a strange hole in its back close.

“I… I think so…” croaks the drone.

“Good,” says the zebra, “Wait here, okay?”

99111 nods and she walks off.

A hole appeared in my back, my carapace went all soft, and I couldn’t pull off the swimming thing at all.

I called for help…

Back home, they all kept saying that High Score was with us at all times, but the second I got in danger I couldn’t get out of, nothing happened.

The nice zebra must have saved me.

It was a lie all along.

The zebra returns, carrying an inflatable pool floaty. She notices 99111’s blank stare and sits down next to it.

“I’m here if you want to talk,” she says, “Or, if you’re brave enough, I can teach you how to swim so that you don’t drown again,” she grabs its tiny foreleg, “You’d have to fill-in these holes, though.”

99111 looks at the pool and shudders. The zebra notices and taps the inflated floaty.

“You can float freely on this and you won’t sink, I promise.”

Unable to cope with the overwhelming feeling of betrayal in regards to High Score, 99111 shakes its head, and says:

“Can I just rest here for a while, Miss zebra?”

“I’m- my name’s Gem,” she smiles and pats its head, “And of course you can. I’ll be around or in the pool if you need anything.”

“I’m 99111,” it says as she stands up, throws the floaty into the pool, and slowly lowers herself on it, “...and thank you,” it adds, unsure if she heard it over the overall commotion of ponies on the deck.

In absence of any further reply, 99111 curls up by a deck chair and lets sunlight warm its carapace in hopes that the cold emptiness inside will fade away as well.

The emptiness isn’t hunger, though. For some reason, 99111 feels completely full.

Day 1 - Shippy time: 7/9

Shortly after leaving the drone cabin with 99380, 99526’s stomach rumbles.

“Huh, that didn’t sound good,” the 99380 stops and looks at its friend, “You wanna share? I can still spare a bit of love.”

99526 shakes its head.

“I think it’ll be better if you keep exploring this place. We can’t disappoint everyone by both of us passing out somewhere. Go on ahead and I’ll try to see if there’s any love to scrounge up. Maybe I’ll ask if 93 has a little to spare. At worst, she’ll call me a dummy or something.”

“You don’t believe the veterans’ tales about us getting eaten for the smallest failure?”

“I do, I do, but all I’ve seen so far adhered to 387’s new rules, so I guess I’ll just go and face whatever is in the way like a proper drone.”

“Good luck then,” 99380 nods and heads further down the hall, “I’ll head up on the main deck. See ya.”

“Bye.”

As 99380’s hoofsteps eventually go quiet, 99526 feel more alone than ever before.

Come on, what’s the worst that can happen? Getting munched? Getting munched.

So… do I get munched for trying and failing or do I get munched for giving up and lying down?

Say what you want about all those silly things the veterans say about High Score, but if there’s an important piece of information it’s that it never gave up no matter the challenge.

99526 scrunches its face into a determined and highly boop-able expression before heading on and up to the deck with the cabins belonging to the noble or royal guests. It’s nicely quiet at this time of day, and the drone stops in front of 387 and 93’s cabin to take a deep breath.

Before it can knock, though, it notices a faint seepage of love through a door further in the hallway. It lowers its leg and starts heading towards the door which, to its eyes, is letting out a faint pink glimmer under it. When it’s less than halfway to it, the door opens, and a pony couple entirely covered in a pink cloud walks into the corridor before locking the cabin behind them and leaving in the opposite direction.

99526 beams and quietly follows them, absorbing any love left by their passage.

The stallion is a white unicorn with dark blue mane and the build of a warrior, but the drone’s attention is way more occupied by the mare. This is the first time 99526 has seen a pony with both unicorn horn and pegasus wings. Her coat is pink, her mane and tail are split into stripes of three colors - purple, yellow, and dark violet, and she seems to be the main source of the lingering love cloud now easily feeding 99526. The two are laughing and chatting, completely oblivious to the small drone following them, which is a state of affairs 99526 enjoys because it doesn’t want to bother anyone, and the indirect feeding is bound to take time anyway.

It follows them to the main deck where they get some drinks from the bar before heading off to the giant central pool. Across from it, the drone spots 99111 curled up under a deck chair occupied by the shower zebra reading a magazine. Inspired by how 99111 is safe and no one seems to be bothered by it being around, 99526 resumes following the couple with a little less sneakiness, which it regrets almost immediately.

A thick and muscular foreleg grabs it by the center of its barrel, raising it up.

SPINDLY CATCHER DANGER!

“Eeep!” 99526 bends and bites the leg but its dull teeth can’t do any real damage.

“Hey!” a rough voice warns it and a second foreleg spins the drone around. 99526 finds itself held with two legs by its barrel and staring face to face with a big earth pony sitting on his haunches who is wearing a breezy, dark blue vest with yellow SECURITY written on it, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Being spooked, Mister SECURITY!” 99526 goes limp now that its shocked imagination leaves the territory of tentacly ambushers or scratchy grabbers and returns to reality, “I wouldn’t have bitten you otherwise. Sorry. Did you need anything?” it gives the earth pony a quizzical look.

The security guard scoops 99526 with one bent foreleg again and approaches the duo that the drone has been following.

“Prince Shining Armor, Princess Cadance, may I have a moment?” he speaks up to get their attention.

“Is there a problem?” asks Shining Armor, immediately narrowing his eyes as he notices 99526.

“This changeling has been stalking you ever since you got up here,” he shakes 99526.

“Why were you spying on us?” Shining Armor’s tone lowers into a growl.

“Shiny, calm down,” Cadance puts a hoof on his shoulder.

“Your name is SHINY?!” 99526’s eyes bulge despite being completely ignored.

“Honey, I know things are supposed to be different these days but I still don’t feel comfortable about being stalked by a changeling and, after what Chrysalis did to me, I doubt I ever will.”

“I wasn’t spying on you or stalking you. I’m not an infiltrator,” 99526 opens its mouth, “See? No sharp teeth… or long legs… or a bunch of other scary and mean things. Imma drone. We dig and carry stuff, but I wasn’t doing that either- ooooh, so that’s why you’re asking! Sorry, it takes me some time to get things right,” it facehoofs, “I was kinda hungry and you two were leaving behind a trail of love so I was just following it. Your love is delicious.”

“You were feeding from us?” Shining Armor’s eye twitches.

“Mhm!” 99526 nods, “I didn’t mean to bother you at all but then Mister SECURITY here grabbed me. Speaking of which, I saw a bunch of other SECURITY guys yesterday. Are you from the same hive or something?”

As Shining aggressively opens his mouth, Cadance leans to him and whispers something into his ear which makes him pause.

“Are you sure?” he asks instead, “This can go horribly wrong.”

“Of course it can,” she pats him, smiling, before leaning towards 99526, “Little one, I’m not sure how I could feed you directly but I’m willing to learn.”

99526 shakes its head.

“It’s fine if I can just be around for a short while. I’m already feeling a lot better and I’ve been following you only for a few minutes since you left your cabin. You won’t even notice I’m there. Or I can go bring you something if you need. Carrying stuff, that’s what we do.”

More whispering between the two follows, and the security guard’s leg grips the drone tighter. In the end, Cadance nods at the security guard:

“Let the little guy go. I think this is all just a misunderstanding.”

The guard does so, and 99526 finds itself once again on all fours.

“As you wish, Princess. If there’s any trouble, Quest Security is there for you,” the guard bows and walks off.

“We’re off to have a swim,” says Cadance to 99526, “You’re welcome to stick around, and don’t worry, we won’t send you off for anyth-”

Shining Armor interrupts her by pointing a short, pencil-like wand made of pink crystal at 99526.

“Go grab us two mojitos,” he says firmly. When 99526 just sniffs the stick, Shining adds, “Show this to the bartender. It means the drinks are for us.”

“Ooooh!” 99526 takes the crystal, puts it vertically into its leg hole which closes over it before trotting off, wisely not mentioning the drinks that Shining Armor and Cadance already have.

A short moment later, the drone stops and looks back towards the duo already obscured by other ponies.

Goop. I should have asked where to get this mo-hee-toe drink. Oh well…

With a shrug, 99526 walks over to the first pony going its way and raises its foreleg.

“Excuse me-”

The pony ignores it.

Alright. I need to find someone who isn’t as busy.

As it looks around again, it spots a familiar face ascending the staircase leading down to the inner decks. Well, not a face per se, but a familiar writing.

This SECURITY unicorn’s coat is brick red, and he raises an eyebrow when he hears a quiet clearing of a throat, looks down, and faces 99526.

“Can I help you?”

“Where can I get a mo-hee-toe, please? I think it’s bigger than a less-hee-toe but I’ve never heard of that either,” as the guard’s jaw drops, 99526 expands the hole in its leg to show the guard the crystal it got, “Mister Shiny gave me this.”

Glorious Quest ignores the crystal and examines 99526’s foreleg instead.

“That’s a useful trick,” he says, “With the leg hole, I mean.”

“It sure is!” 99526 nods, “Umm-”

“The mojito, right,” Quest looks around before pointing towards one of the several bars around, “Looks like that bar’s offering it. It’s the green drink.”

“Oooohhh!” 99526 squints in the right direction, “I think I can see it. Thank you very much, Mister!”

“No problem,” Quest pats its head and walks off.

Less than five minutes later, 99526 is carrying one cup in a leg hole and hobbling on three legs, all that while balancing a cup number two on its head with just the biggest smile of success on its face.

Day 1 - Shippy time: 8/9

Just like everyone else, 10013 has been wandering around the ship for some time. However, while the others were exploring, it was gathering courage to act upon the rather confusing invitation it got from the zebra guard.

*Puzzled face.* *Disappointed face.* *Awkward face.*

“Smiley, is something wrong?” asks 10013, immediately forgetting its own worries.

*Relieved face.*

“Hang on, I’ll be right there.”

10013 concentrates on Smiley’s hive link. It’s not far, nothing on the ship should be unreachable, but pointing out the exact location of someone else is a bit difficult. Normally, drones just ping a map location but that’s a bit beyond Smiley’s abilities.

The hive link leads 10013 down… and down… and down until the drone stops in front of a heavy metal door which is, quite certainly, locked. 10013 bangs on it.

“Are you there, Smiley?”

*Bang bang bang!*

“Gotcha!” 10013 nods, hearing the noise from the other side, “I could dig you out but you heard 387. Wait there, I’ll find someone who has the key, okay?”

*Happy face.*

10013 climbs the stairs one floor up to the staff deck. It can sense 36658 and 20100 nearby but they won’t be of any help.

I need… I need… AH-HAH!

It rushes towards a somewhat familiar dark blue uniform with yellow SECURITY written on the side.

“Mister security pony! Mister security pony!” it calls out. The pegasus turns around and its expression hardens when he sees the changeling.

“Yes?” he asks.

“My buddy is stuck behind a door downstairs! Do you have a key or do you know who has it?”

“You mean on the maintenance deck?” the pegasus frowns, “How did they get there?”

“Well, it didn’t dig through the door since we’re not allowed to, so it must have been open.”

“Great, more security incident paperwork. No matter how many training seminars some ponies get…” the pegasus facehoofs, “Alright, come on.”

10013 leads the way back down and taps at the door again. Smiley taps back.

“Identify yourself!” orders the security guard.

“Umm, Smiley can’t talk, sir,” explains 10013.

The pegasus reaches under his security uniform with one foreleg. When his foreleg comes out again, it’s wearing a heavy, studded horseshoe. With his wing, he pulls out a set of keys and unlocks the door before carefully opening it and stepping back, only to see a beaming changeling face.

“Heya, Smiley!” 10013 waves.

*Happy face!*

Smiley walks out, looks at the pegasus ready to punch, and nuzzles his raised leg before walking over to 10013 and simply waiting for the situation to unfold. The pegasus locks the door, takes off the heavy combat horseshoe, and leads the two up to the staff deck again.

“I need some information for the incident report,” he stops and faces the drones before pulling out a notepad from his saddlebag.

“Sure,” 10013 nods.

“First, your names.”

“I’m 10013 and that’s Smiley.”

The pegasus looks at the beaming Silent.

“Easy to remember, I suppose,” he scribbles something on the paper, “Which delegation do you belong to?”

“Uhh, changelings?” 10013 tilts its head.

“Changeling hive or Northern San Palomino?”

“Oh. Changeling hive,” 10013 nods, “With Queen Chrysalis.”

Speaking of San Palomino, I should visit that zebra lady. Wait, did he just say those guys were changelings too?

“Time… section…” the pegasus mumbles while writing, “Okay, I guess that’s all. In case we need anything, somepony will find you. If that’s all, you’re free to go,” he puts the notepad away.

“Thank you,” 10013 nudges Smiley, “Say- I mean do something thankful.”

Already beaming Smiley slowly waves. The pegasus nods in response and leaves.

“You wanna come with me or do you want to look for somewhere new to get stuck?” 10013 chuckles. Smiley licks its face, “Gotcha. Let’s go see a zebra- changeling- pony- something!”

Several minutes later and two floors higher, the two find themselves being scrutinized by a different muscular zebra mare for some reason wearing a lot of leather straps all over her body while standing guard by a door belonging to a nobility suite.

“Hello, I was told to come here, Miss zebra.”

“One moment,” the zebra nods and enters the suite. Only a few seconds later, she returns, leaving the door open, “Come inside.”

As the door closes behind the two, 10013 finds itself facing…

…a changeling infiltrator.

“Hello,” he opens, sitting on the bed with a worried expression, “How are you in terms of love?”

“A bit low,” admits 10013, surprised that this would be the first concern, “But… who are you? The Saint Plop-”

“The baron of Northern San Palomino,” he sighs, “Technically, the husband of the baroness of Northern San Palomino, but the lawyer insisted that it makes me a baron too. Before the invasion, though, my rank was 1313.”

“Hi, 1313. Why did you want to talk to us instead of the Queen or the high ranks?” asks 10013, sitting down.

“Straight to the point. Good,” he nods, “Who invited you?”

“The Queen.”

“I mean, you as in all of you. The hive representatives.”

“The Queen read us a scroll thingy which said you did,” says 10013.

1313 sighs and plops his back on the bed, looking at the ceiling.

“I was afraid you’d say that but I’d be lying if I said I was surprised…”

“You didn’t invite us?”

“No, I didn’t, and neither did Zamira. No offense, but the last thing I wanted was to see the Queen ever again. I doubt I’m important enough for her to try to control me but you never know,” he takes a long breath before covering his eyes with his hooves, “Holes damn it…”

10013 doesn’t know what to say, so it just sits on the floor until the bathroom door clicks.

“Hey, honey, you can’t be sleeping when you have visitors,” laughs a zebra mare of a similar strong build as the guard outside, although a little bit rounder.

“The invitation said we did it, Zami,” groans 1313, “Which means someone either did it under our name or that Chrysalis forged it for some reason. That’s why Princess Celestia said she had to send us a second one.”

“Ah,” Zamira, wearing a pink thong and a matching swimsuit top doing wonders to bring out her muscles as well as her backside, leans over to Smiley, “You’re a happy fellow, aren’t you?”

Smiley boops her. Zamira’s eyes go wide.

“1313, I found a solution to not losing my fantastic figure in the future - we adopt. Specifically this one.”

“We’re very adoptable,” 10013 nods wisely, “That’s the whole changeling thing.”

“Eeeeeeeee!” Zamira grabs Smiley and raises it up, “It’s mine now, I win at life.”

“It meant adaptable,” grumbles 1313, “They have no clue what adoption means.”

Zamira carries Smiley to the bed where she sits down next to 1313 and makes the Silent pat 1313’s head by guiding its foreleg.

“Look, it’s just so happy!”

“Yes, that’s a Silent. It has fewer brain cells than your shampoo bottle. It can’t possibly comprehend the implications of what’s going on here. It’s happy because it’s not getting eaten or thrown against a magical barrier right now.”

“1313 is not wrong,” 10013 adds, “But Smiley has been getting better. It can do way more than just wait for orders.”

“See?” Zamira shakes a completely unbothered Smiley in 1313’s face, “You have to ask your Queen to let us get one.”

“I don’t know if that would work, Miss,” 10013 shakes its head, “Most of the old storage caverns caved-in since the invasion. I mean, there are still a bunch of eggs around but we have been getting only a few new ones every month.”

“How does that work anyway?” Zamira turns Smiley around and scratches it under its chin. The tip of its tongue flops out in response, “Does she kidnap a bunch of stallions to fill her up and then she just keeps plopping out eggs for a week, or do changelings like 1313 here bring her mares so that she can fill them like egg sacks with her creepy alien facehugger dic-”

“ALL OF THE ABOVE, THAT’S THE PROBLEM! WE’RE ADOPT- ADAPTABLE!” 1313 bolts into a sitting position, “Never show Chrysalis the eastern clop magazines you keep reading, it’ll just give her ideas.”

“Well-” Zamira ponders it.

“And if we’re not careful, she’ll make me drag you off to the hive and then do all of them to you-”

“I mean, would that be so b-?”

“-and I don’t want to do that because she says so. I want to do that because I love you but I’ll have no choice but to obey and then she’ll use us to take control of Equestria!”

“Using our massive political leverage that we have as Northern San Palomino nobility? We own three villages and a chunk of desert that we only got so that we wouldn’t blab about Blueblood.”

“That’s just how it starts!” gasping for air in exasperation, 1313 grabs Zamira’s shoulders and shakes her, “Then she’ll make us overthrow the South San Palomino guys and she’ll control the entire desert!”

Smiley, now sandwiched between the two, turns around and hugs 1313’s barrel. This pleases Zamira.

“Honey? You could learn a thing or two from this guy,” she pats Smiley.

“I…” 1313 puts both his forelegs over his face again, “I don’t think you’re getting it, Zami. Chrysalis might not be the best infiltrator in the hive but she was still good enough to fool everyone, replace Princess Cadance, and completely control Prince Shining Armor. If she or that other infiltrator she has with her does something to me I won’t be able to stop it and you won’t even notice. One day, without a word, I might just turn on you-”

Zamira puts a hoof on 1313’s lips with a gentle smile before turning towards 10013.

“Little guy, is your Queen really that bad or is 1313 overreacting?”

10013 rubs its head, pondering it.

“He’s… it’s complicated,” it says hesitantly, “I mean, I saw the Queen up close only twice in my life, and it’s the same for most changelings from what I heard. Buuut… life’s been a lot better since the new rules. The high ranks aren’t allowed to eat us anymore and we get more chances now, so if anything happens that doesn’t allow us to finish our quota during worky time we don’t get immediately shoved into the crusher and recycled. No one knows how many chances we have but we’re not testing anything. Things are a lot better these days, really. Just look at me, I’m almost five years old. That’s practically ancient by drone standards, and there’s more of us who have been alive before the invasion,” 10013 smiles, “Maybe the Queen has changed.”

“I’m sorry… what?” asks Zamira slowly, her tone suddenly cold.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to explain!” says 1313, “In my time, the life expectancy of drones was what? A month?”

“Nope, two weeks,” 10013 shakes its head, “There weren’t that many of us over a month. High Score and I were pretty unique.”

A slow, choked groan comes out of Zamira’s mouth before she asks:

“Honey, how much do I have to control my language around the little guys?”

“Not at all. They’re not foals. Drones are expected to work from day one and they reach the full extent of the knowledge they need maybe by day three. Think of them more as adults who were locked up in a cellar, never had any contact with the outside world, and got hit every day in the head with a brick.”

“Heh heh, yeah,” 10013 rubs its head in response, “Last month a tunnel caved in on me, but High Score was with me in spirit and the big rocks got stuck on each other so they just squished me hard instead of completely flattening me. I got smacked in the head pretty bad, though, before I dug myself out.”

Zamira, almost robotically, stands up, walks into the bathroom, and closes the door behind her, much to the surprised stares of all three changelings. A moment later, they start hearing furious screams presumably muffled by a towel.

“... evil… shithead… month… monstrous… them all… controlling…”

*Sad face.* *Worried face.*

Hearing the fragmented tirade, Smiley hops off the bed and opens the door to the bathroom.

“-WITH A RUSTY SPOON!” comes out before Zamira presumably notices the colder air and stops, “Yes?”

Smiley flies up and hugs her neck.

With a new, determined expression, Zamira steadies it by putting one foreleg under its butt and walks outside.

“Honey,” she says sharply.

“Yes?” 1313 knows the tone. It’s the ‘We do things my way now, no questions’ tone.

“I saw Acting Grandmaster Sun Hammer of the Paladins on the guest list. We are going to find her and ask her for any possible magical protection against mind control or anything even remotely similar. Whenever we split up, take anyone from my unit with you. If you go to the toilet, Zaida will be there with you. If we’re not showering together, you’re showering with Zeri. If I get drunk and meet a sexy beefcake to have fun with over night, Zahara will be in your bed, rubbing her ass against you while Zaida and Zeri watch. Got it?!” she lets go of Smiley and jabs 1313 in the chest.

Faced with this level of authority, both 1313 and 10013 nod, although only one knows what all that meant.

“Good,” she says, “Now, how about we- what the hay?!” Smiley is now carefully chewing on her outstretched foreleg, earning a confused shake rather than a smack.

“Smiley, what are you doing?” asks 10013.

*Curious face.*

A fleeting image of 36658 crosses 10013’s mind.

“Ohhh,” the drone understands, “It wants to know how you taste. My buddy 36658 saw some zebras outside while we were waiting to enter the ship. It used to make agonyslayers by eating striped zebra trees and it was curious if you tasted the same. Now it has a poppy patch on the edge of the Badlands and makes all kinds of stronger stuff, but mostly tormentannihilators, from its goop, some of which we get to keep in case we get crushed but survive.”

“And that’s the level of storytelling clarity you get from drones,” 1313 smirks, “Don’t think too hard about it.”

Zamira only raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t need to, it’s perfectly clear to me. I told you I was a tribal shaman apprentice back home and brewing simple painkillers from birch bark is the most basic thing I ever learned. I know you can eat various things to make your goop taste different and alter its effects. We do enough kinky stuff at home. And finally, if I’m correct about the poppies then this 36-something is now making either morphine or heroin. The only thing that puzzles me is where that changeling found a thesaurus to eat in order to come up with those names.”

And now, both 1313’s and 10013’s jaws drop in sync.

“You’re a very smart stripey lady,” says 10013 after a moment of gawking.

“It takes a lot of work to be this intelligent and sexy at the same time,” she replies with a smile.

“I’m the luckiest bughorse in the world,” 1313 chuckles as he gets off of the bed, unceremoniously shoves Smiley off of Zamira’s leg, and kisses the zebra.

“Smiley, I think we got what we came for. Let’s not bother them anymore,” 10013 mentally nudges the Silent.

“Hey, Zami,” 1313 offers, easily sensing and overhearing the communication, “How about we let these two tag along for the afternoon? They could use a bit of love refill and… maybe the world won’t end if we put off talking to the Paladins until tomorrow after all.”

Zamira’s eyes light up.

“I get the happy one, you get the serious one,” she exclaims, snatching Smiley again and squeezing it like a plush toy.

*Panicked fa-* *Serious face.* *Serious face.*

“Don’t even try that, Silent,” 1313 shoots it down.

Author's Note

There's your power couple.

Day 1 - Shippy time: 9/9

99380 is standing propped against the railing at the front of the cruise ship, its forelegs dangling over it. There are barely any ponies around, most being busy by or in one of the three giant swimming pools and sunbathing areas or in the establishments surrounding them. The drone is smiling as it watches the foam of the waves crashing against the ship far down, scattering shiny droplets of water everywhere. It’s relatively quiet, there are dancing shinies deep down - the reflections of the low-hanging sun. No one seems to be needing its services and, after so much wandering around the ship’s busy interior, the relative quiet is soothing. 99380 lets its mind wander and simply stares ahead.

It’s always been a bit difficult to gather its thoughts but it’s never mattered so far. Digging was digging, carrying was carrying. Still, everyone has always been nice and, while this new situation is confusing as all holes, there’s no present threat. Life is good.

And so, with the hive links of every other drone easy to sense in its mind, the faint presence of 387, the clear minds of 93 and the Queen, as well as those of two more unknown changelings, 99380 simply hangs over the railing and stares at all the shinies in the water.

***

“Those were the final orders for today,” announces the head chef as 36658 and 20100 ride the elevator down after ten o’clock at night, “Good job, everypony, and you two as well.”

“We did it!”
“For High Score!”

The drones hoof bump each other.

“I wish I had your enthusiasm,” breathes out one of the kitchen staff, taking off their white apron covered with smudges and grease.

“Wait, there were ponies still upstairs,” 36658 looks at the head chef, “Do they ask different ponies for food now?”

“No, they don’t,” the head chef gestures to the drones to follow him into the corner, “We stop taking new orders at ten, and from then ponies can only order packaged snacks or drinks upstairs,” he turns around to face the duo, “Look, I know you didn’t ask for anything but I’d feel terrible if I just sent you away. Is there anything I can offer you? Our guys usually take leftovers with them, but from what I gathered you don’t eat our food.”

“We can taste it or make it change our goop. It just doesn’t fill us up,” 36658 shrugs, “Unless you have any love, I’m out of ideas. 20100?”

“How would I even, ehh, feed you love?” asks a passing mare, “I heard rumors, but…” she lets the sentence hang. The drones don’t notice it, but the overall movement in the kitchen slows down as everyone perks up their ears.

Even 20100 turns towards 36658.

“There are a bunch of ways the high ranks do it, I heard, but back in the lumber camp all we had to do was to be around ponies who liked us or each other,” the ponies exchange glances as 36658 pauses, “Wait! We can just use a treasured item or something.”

“Hmm, would this be enough?” the head chef pulls out a laminated picture of a mare out of his saddlebag. When 36658 sniffs it, he adds, “I hope you don’t literally eat it. I mean, chew it or similar.”

“Oh no no no,” 36658 shakes its head and starts absorbing the love surrounding the picture, “I’ll just hold it for a while and then I’ll share my love with 20100. You okay with second-hoof, 20100?”

“Hmm?” 20100 turns its head away from a pile of waiter notepads it’s been looking at, “Sure, go for it,” it walks over to the head chef and pokes his leg, “Umm, does that count as something you’d give us?” it points at the pile.

“A notepad?” the head chef asks, shrugging, “Sure.”

20100’s eyes light up as it rushes over to the table and swipes the ring-bound notepad. It spreads its wings, and several smudged pieces of paper glued together on one end with goop fall out from a nook in the drone’s carapace along with a tiny nub of a pencil. 20100 picks both up and shows them to the curious chef.

“The pad that 65536 gave me when it came over last freezy time for a visit is nearly full, and my scribbler is almost gone too. Now I’ll be able to draw so many more moving pictures!”

The head chef reaches across the table to a mug containing assorted pencils, pulls one out, and offers it to 20100 whose jaw drops.

“Can’t just give a pad without a pencil,” he smiles.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEE!” 20100, tears streaming from its eyes, jumps at him with the biggest smile and latches onto his chest, wiping tears and snot on his apron.

36658 giggles.

“I guess 20100 will be able to draw a lot more now. I mean, if you ever need help again, you know what to offer.”

“Heh,” the head chef looks over at the staff still present, “Guys, if you need a shift off, just tell me and have an empty notepad ready.”

“Did he mean what I think he meant? Do I get a full scribbler and a whole bunch of papers just for carrying stuff for four to five hours?” 20100 asks mentally for confirmation.

“Sure sounded like it to me,” replies 36658.

“Me leggos are shaking out of raw happy!”

“Enjoy the next breaky time!”

“I SO WILL!”

“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” 20100 just sits there, buzzing its wings while hugging the pad and a pencil.

With a round of chuckling all over the kitchen, 36658 and 20100’s worky time of shippy time ends for today.

***

99111 wakes up in the drone cabin as the door clicks open and the stomping of many tiny hooves follows. Unlike the sleepy time before, now it’s lying properly on the hammock instead of having its legs hang through.

“Huh?” it raises its head, “Hi, guys. How did I get here?”

10013, flying to its previous sleeping spot and dropping through the hammock holes, shrugs. The other drones take their previous places as well, and a moment later they’re hanging from the hammocks like before, all but 99111.

“No idea. We have been on the top deck watching shinies above since 36658 and 20100 finished their thing. 99380 was able to sense you and said you were asleep so we didn’t bother you.”

“It was kinda weird,” 99380 scratches its head, “You were sleeping and moving.”

“Maybe you were sleepwalking!” 99526 gasps, “I heard stories about drones sleepdigging back home. Just gotta be careful here or 387 will get super angry.”

“Maybe it was a blessing from High Score!” 36658 clops its hooves together.

“No, it wasn’t!” 99111 bolts up in a sudden fit of fury which gets seriously undercut by its legs now dropping through the holes again.

All the others turn their heads towards it in shock. Genuine anger isn’t something often seen in the non-violent drones. Almost always, they just accept things as they come and those things either make them happy or sad.

“How do you know, you were sleep-?” 36658 continues.

“Because all that is goop! All those stories are one big pile of goop!” 99111 snarls its way, “I tried swimming like you Potatoes always keep saying to explore and figure out new things and it didn’t work and I was drowning and I called and called for High Score to help and then everything started going dark and… and…” 99111’s mouth wibbles as its voice fades for a moment before returning with force, “Your stupid High Score was just a drone that lived long time ago, not some super powerful high rank! Or maybe it didn’t even exist at all and you’ve been lying to everyone the whole time!” it glares at 36658.

“You… you-!” 36658 starts flailing its legs 99111’s way but it can’t get out of the hammock, “How dare you -hnngh!- talk about High Score -arrrgh!- like that?! High Score saved me from spinners and it showed us so many surface shinies! If… if I could get out of this… I would… I would… SMACK YOU!” 36658 fights against the hammock to no avail, “For real, not like when we play! AND WITH MY STICK!”

Everyone else gasps in horror.

99111 wibbles at 36658 whose expression remains huffy and pouty. Tears burst out of its eyes and, sniffling, it lets its legs hang limp while its wings carry it out of the hammock and out of the cabin.

The dramatic moment is undercut only by them hearing the door to the next cabin open and close a moment later.

99380 peeps:

“I… I think I should keep 99111 company. It’s scary being alone on this ship, and now even you guys are mad at it too and, you know, drones stick together.”

“B-But it… it was mean about High Score,” quietly objects 20100.

99526 flies out of the hammock as well, landing in the center of the cabin.

“You gotta admit that some of the stuff you Potatoes keep saying about High Score is a bit… out there?”

“I- you don’t understand,” 20100 gives it a pleading glance, “We were with High Score and the lumber camp ponies… and then we fought the big bad star pony with the soup princess. That really happened.”

“I believe that but, you know, you’re all drones like us, just a lot older, so it makes sense that High Score would be one too, not some super powerful creature sent to us from the great gablonk. What was its rank, anyway?”

“It was High Score the Shiny Bringer, you can’t rank that!” huffs 36658, giving up its fight against the hammock and concentrating on staring daggers.

Finally, 10013 raises its voice:

“High Score’s rank was 9999. Its name was well-earned, as even real high ranks like 1988 can tell you when we come home. It did things no other drone could despite the Potatoes admittedly embellishing their stories a bit… a lot,” it corrects itself, “Or making stuff up entirely in some cases, like the story about High Score hiding the big sky shiny at night inside its leg hole so that the changelings outside can get some sleepy time too,” 10013 looks at 36658 hanging next to 20100.

“Well… yeah,” 36658 looks away with a hint of embarrassment, “We may have oversold a point or two, but it was all for the good of us drones! The tunnels have always been dark, lonely, and deadly, and now that there are so few of us it’s even worse. I thought that if everyone heard about High Score then just the thought would warm them up inside when they’re out there digging on their own during worky time. It sure works for me.”

Despite that admission of vulnerability, 99526 frowns.

“Then don’t you ever think about the damage you caused to newborn drones who believed they weren’t alone and slipped up and dropped their guard for just a moment and got eaten because of it? The reality is that we are alone down there, that there’s no one protecting us, and we all lost our buddies because that’s how the world works!”

“Without High Score there would be no new rules!” objects 36658, “And then you would see how bad the world really can be and you’d shut up!”

99526 wibbles, but 36658 doesn’t budge an inch. Without another word, 99526 leaves for the next door cabin as well.

“99380, you’re smart, right?” 36658 asks.

“Nu-uh,” 99380 shakes its head, “And that’s okay because that’s how the big shiny made me, but you know what it also made me? Not mean,” it flies over to the small wardrobe from which it takes three out of seven sticks that 387 made for the drones, “So, umm, the guys out there need a cheer-up pile and that’s hard to do with only two of them. Uhh, see you later.”

It leaves.

“99111 was the bad guy here, right?” 36658 looks at 20100.

“Right!” 20100 nods.

Then they both look at 10013 for confirmation.

“I… think you could have been a bit nicer about it. 99111 made a good point about you overdoing it with the stories and neither of us knew it almost drowned today. The newbies can get a bit shocked by their first near-death experience. Shouldn’t you have a bit more… understanding for your drone buddies? Wouldn’t High Score want that the most?”

36658 crosses its forelegs under the hammock.

“Everyone knows that you’re a nice drone and a good leader, 10013, and we all like you, but 99111 spoke so badly about High Score that I’m just gonna hang here up on this leggy spinner web and glare at you until I fall asleep!”

20100 only leans its head against 36658 and closes its eyes.

“Nothelpingstillangry!” grumbles 36658 quietly.

10013 sighs.

A good leader? Just look around - only one day in charge and drones are already split and fighting with each other.

“Any comment on the entire situation, Smiley?”

*Confused face.*

“It’s a bit too complicated for you, isn’t it? Holes, it’s too complicated for me as well. What do you think about 36658 and 20100?”

*Happy face!*

“So they’re in the right here? What about the 99111, 99526, and 99380 then?”

*Happy face!*

“And about me? I feel like I should have done things completely differently but I have no idea how.”

*Happy face!*

That’s the best answer I’m going to get, I suppose.

10013 closes its eyes.

And so, day one ends. Not with a bang, but with a wibble.

Author's Note

A big one for the day 1 finale.
Now, for no particular reason, if you think up a task for either a specific drone or for a group that would be beneficial to the hive, feel free to write it out and they might get a point if they manage to accomplish it. What would these points be for? Well, next week's chapter might explain a bit more.

Day 2 - Points: 1/9

“Wake up, dimwits!”

Every drone’s mind gets forcibly dragged out of the peaceful, for most, realm of sleep by 387’s annoyed mental voice. 10013 yawns and softly swings its forelegs, enjoying the movement of the hammock. However, when it sees 387 slam the door open and shove the three worried-looking newbies inside, any even remotely good feelings vanish. When everyone’s inside a single cabin, 387 closes the door again.

“Now, who’s going to be the first one to tell me why Smiley here has been sitting in front of my door and spamming crying faces in my head the whole morning?!”

“Maybe it just wanted a shower-” grumbles 36658, glaring daggers non-stop at 99111.

“Test me one more time, I dare you!” snarls 387, and one simple glance from him is enough to shut 36658 up. This is a pre-new rules kind of glance, an extremely bad glance.

He knows what’s going on, or at least part of it.

10013 grits its teeth for a second before speaking out:

“It’s my fault-”

“Obviously - I left you in charge. Get to the point!”

For some reason, 10013 feels as if 387’s aggressive tone doesn’t match his overall demeanor for that particular statement. Something just doesn’t fit, but the drone doesn’t have the experience to decipher what’s really happening.

“I might be wrong, but I think Smiley is sad because we argued yesterday and split up in bad blood.”

“You argue all the time,” 387 weakly smacks the back of the head of Smiley who’s standing next to him.

*Sad face.*

“You are right, but this was different,” 10013 keeps talking slowly and carefully, “When we argue we usually don’t mean anything bad by it and we have a common goal. Let’s say two drones argue about how many good sticks to trade for a particularly round rock-”

“Let’s not,” 387 interrupts it, “Use your intelligence, be concise, be accurate.”

“99111 badmouthed High Score!” 36658 blurts out, “It said we just made everything up and that we’re responsible for dead drones! I said it deserves to get properly smacked, and it does!”

“9999 existed. It died during our battle against the Tantabus in the dreamscape. Anything else?” 387 looks down and scowls at 99111.

The drone is visibly trembling under the threatening gaze.

“N- T- That wasn’t- wasn’t the pro- problem,” it stutters out, “I- I said that the stories they say about it were made up because they are goop and that if drones believe that they have some magical protection with them then they will be less careful and they might die and it will be because of the Potatoes’ stories!”

To everyone’s surprise, 387 hums thoughtfully.

“That isn’t a terrible line of thought, actually-”

“HA!” 99111 vigorously points at 36658 who would love to reply but, unlike the newbies, possesses the deeply ingrained habit stating that interrupting a high rank is a terrible idea.

*Crack!*

387’s blow to the back of the head sends 99111 to the floor. It clearly wasn’t meant to wound but still be painful enough to convey a message. The warrior narrows his eyes, waiting for shaken 99111 to get back up.

“You have no idea how much effort and sheer luck it took to have Chrysalis agree to the new rules. I waited a millennium for the chance that came by complete coincidence four years ago, and you will not screw this up,” he growls, “You are allowed to disagree on anything as long as it doesn’t hinder the hive but there will be no dangerous violence. High rank on drone as well as drone on drone. I don’t care if you shove each other down the stairs, you are tough enough and easy to heal, but if anyone else sees that they’ll assume we’re just stupid bugs useful only as whorses or to be exploited. I’ll tell you the same thing I told Chrysalis - I don’t care about you, I care about the hive. So, let me repeat - how you act here will reflect on everyone back home. That doesn’t only mean drones in the depths, that also means changelings on assignments among ponies and even those living with them. You are free to disagree, but you will not let it be harmful to the hive or I will be harmful to you.”

“Umm,” 20100 raises its foreleg.

“Yes?” 387 sharply.

“Does that mean we have to move back to one cabin?”

387 rolls his eyes and sighs.

“No. I understand that distance and space are sometimes the best things to heal wounds. However, you still obey 10013 and work for the good of the hive. If that requires 36658 and 99111 to hug each other or watch each other’s back, you will do that to the best of your ability, no questions or complaints, understood?”

*Nod nod nod!*

“But-” 99111 peeps, earning another sharp look from 387, “h- how do we f-figure out who- who’s right? I think 36658’s stories are harming drones and I would like it to stop.”

“My stories are helping! It doesn’t matter if the stories are true or not, or that some are and some aren’t. They motivate us to be better. Without them, we’d be alone most of the time in the tunnels, talking to ourselves! This way we can at least share a common goal to become better drones like High Score was, not just… just Silents who can talk! Sorry, Smiley.”

*Wibble...*

“Can I say something?” asks 10013.

“Go on,” again, something is amiss in 387’s stern tone.

“It’s clear we all just want to be better drones, but… but since we’re not in this only for ourselves then we can’t just live by what we think is better. 99111’s question was valid - how do we know which way is correct… or more so?”

387 looks 10013 directly in the eyes, and from that brief exchange the drone suddenly feels the tiniest fraction of the weight of responsibility and difficult decisions, both ending up right and wrong, over the ages on 387’s shoulders. Like before, of course, it has nowhere close enough experience to understand what that infectiously exhausted look truly means.

“Sometimes, you can’t. You just have to act on your convictions, and I think I have an idea how to give all of you some agency over this. 1988 told me about how High Score kept you drones focused on the greater goal when you were in the lumber camp, that you earned a reward for gaining love throughout the day and improving the hive’s reputation. We’ll do a similar thing here.”

Everyone suddenly feels a shift in their mind, and a table accessible to everyone appears, reading:

10013: 0

20100: 0

36658: 0

99111: 0

99380: 0

99526: 0

Smiley: 0

“You’re going to get points for deeds that reflect positively on us, further the hive’s goals, or in the least spare us the need to feed you,” explains 387, “What constitutes such deeds will be judged by me, 93, or the Queen. In order to motivate you better, you will be able to trade points for requests from us. I’m sure I’ll be able to persuade 93 and the Queen to agree. The point cost of requests will vary based on our judgement, and the only limit to them will be your imagination,” 387 raises an eyebrow at 36658, “For example, someone with enough points might just ask the Queen to officially say that High Score wasn’t just a drone, but a super drone first class, or whatever they want,” next he looks at 99111, “Or perhaps they might ask the Queen to take a look at which particular stories about High Score will be allowable to tell others, and root out the particularly problematic ones,” he shrugs, “Or maybe something entirely different and simple like a love refill beyond standard feeding.”

“Hey, that way you can compete while still doing good things and being on the same side,” 10013 forces a smile, looking from 36658 to 99111 and back.

“Sounds good to me,” 99111 nods.

36658 looks away, mumbling:

“...I didn’t really mean it when I said I wanted to smack you…”

“That means yes!” beams 20100 in relief.

“Good,” 387 turns away and opens the door, “I hope I can finally get to enjoy myself after yesterday.”

When he leaves, 99111 stands up and points its foreleg at 36658 stuck in the hammock.

“I’m going to stop you, fanatic! In a good way.”

36658 smirks, puffing out its chest.

“Give it your best shot, heretic! High Score will guide our steps. Right, 20100?”

“Yeah!” 20100 agrees.

“Gasp, that’s two on one! That’s cheating!” complains 99111.

“Nu-uh!” 36658 shakes its head.

“Really?” 99111 looks at 10013.

“I didn’t hear anything against that,” it shrugs.

“Goop!” 99111 huffs, “99526, 99380, are you with me?”

“Yeah!” 99526 nods.

“I like all of you and I’m happy we’re friends again,” 99380 hugs Smiley who licks its face, “I’ll stay in the heretics’ cabin so that we can have a hug pile, but if you want a bigger one here just call me.”

Author's Note

So, I hope based on this that the "giving the drones tasks" option makes more sense now.

Day 2 - Points: 2/9

99380 is happy.

The worries about yesterday’s split are gone, there's a fresh breeze blowing over the top deck, and the big sky shiny is slowly rising. Occasionally, a servant trots by, shoots the drone a curious glance, and goes about their business which seems to be getting something to eat or drink in one of the only two open establishments further away on the deck. 99380 is sitting on a bar stool, at peace. An opportunity to gain these ‘points’ should show itself eventually, and rushing around might only make it miss it.

A yawning green pegasus wearing a colorful shirt open in the front walks past and behind the bar counter where he starts checking the area for something which 99380 can’t identify.

“You know, we won’t be open for another hour,” says the pegasus in passing, “I’m just checking if we’re stocked up for the day.”

“That’s okay, I like how quiet it is now. And these tall chair thingies are great for looking around. You see, when I was walking through this place yesterday, I could barely see anything through all the ponies and legs everywhere,” 99380 shrugs before getting an idea, “Umm, am I not supposed to be here?”

“Hm?” the pegasus finally finds a set of keys and opens the liquor cabinet in the back, “No, it’s fine. Feel free to hang around,” he pauses, trots over to the far side of the counter, and fiddles with a strange box for a moment before-

“Kchrrrrhshshhssssss!”

“Eep, you made the box mad!” yelps 99380, crouching on the bar stool to keep the counter between itself and the box.

The pegasus briefly glances its way before resuming fiddling with the knobs.

“It’s just a radio.”

99380 tilts its head.

“Is it always this angry?”

“Gimme a sec…” mumbles the pegasus, “It takes finesse to catch something after a whole night of floating.”

“-and this concludes the Maretime Bay morning news. Next up - Fuzzy Nimbus and the weather report!” a mare’s quiet and slightly distorted voice suddenly comes out of the box.

“Aaand there we go!” the pegasus says, satisfied as the radio greets the new day, “Enjoy! From tomorrow it’ll be griffon radio stations only.”

As 99380 keeps staring at the radio in disbelief, the pegasus returns to counting the supplies.

“Hello, ponies-!” an energetic female voice replaces the quieter one coming out of the box.

“Awww…” 99380’s excitement fades a little.

Should I be listening?

“-and all you other creatures of Equestria and beyond!”

I should, that means me too!

“Eeeeheheheee!” 99380 claps its hooves together, “Hello, boxy!”

“Today, we’re up for another beautiful Summer day from the coast all the way to Canterlot! Clear skies and wind speeds perfect for easy soaring in the sky.”

“Neat!”

“However, it’s time for our usual Summer reminder - take a break over noon and stay in the shade. You don’t want to risk a heat stroke.”

“I sure will! I don’t like getting struck. I think 99685 does, but that drone is kinda weird even by our standards. Nice guy, though.”

“So, overall, things are looking glorious for now. Buuut, be careful-”

“Oh no!”

“-because the public readings from the weather stations down southeast of the Forbidden Jungle spell some potential for a massive storm. The pegasi weather teams will be doing their best to stop clouds from forming along the coastline, but we’ll keep you informed for today and tomorrow in case things get worse.”

“Thank you, Miss boxy!”

“This has been Fuzzy Nimbus, and now it’s time for some easy listening!”

“Thank you, Miss Fuzzy Nimbus!” 99380 waves at the radio before mumbling, “What a friendly talky box. Did you name it?” it asks the bartender.

“You don’t have a radio where you come from?” asks the pegasus.

99380 creeps closer to the box.

“Nope. First time I’m seeing something like that. It’s amazing! How does it talk without a mouth? Is it like our head talking?”

Seeing the drone smile from ear to ear, the pegasus feels a stab of pain in his heart at having to tell it that the radio can’t hear it.

“Fuzzy Nimbus is a weather pony from Maretime Bay radio station. We’re still sailing down the Equestrian coastline so we can catch their signal. The radio just lets us hear what they’re saying, they can’t hear you back. It’s part technology, part magic. You’d have to ask a smart unicorn for more details. I use it for the news and some ambience.”

“Ohhhh…” 99380 nods, and the pegasus lets out a sigh of relief as the drone’s mood doesn’t seem to worsen at all, “We don’t have thingies like that back home. When we need to talk to others who aren’t around, we use our links. That’s like talking but without a mouth. We can talk to a whole bunch of changelings like that at the same time,” 99380 rubs its chin, “Hmmm, I’ve got an idea.”

“Hello, hive mind! This is 9-”

“SHUT UP THIS EARLY!” comes an immediate angry reply from Chrysalis.

“Oops. Sorry, Your Majesty!”

Chrysalis’ link locks up.

“Are there any problems?” asks 93.

“Uh, no. I was just trying out something new.”

“Explain.”

“I’m listening to a talky radio box up here on the top deck and there was a nice lady speaking out of it. She said the weather would be nice all day but that we should find some shade around noon or the heat would smack us. So… I just wanted everyone to know.”

93’s link remains silent for a moment, but 99380 can feel she’s still actively connected, just either thinking or busy. Eventually, she doesn’t reply. Instead, 99380’s mind lights up with a mysterious reminder before 93’s link disconnects.

New task:
>Meet 93; location: B-3-21x5y; time: +5h 21m; reward: 1 point<

***

“Your Majesty?” asks 93 after quietly tapping on Chrysalis’ door.

After a groan from the suite, Chrysalis replies:

“Come in, 93.”

Inside, 93 gives the messy bed containing one unconscious griffon a curious look before bowing to the Queen.

“Your Majesty, I would like to request time off over noon. Presumably from 12:00 to-”

“Sure. Who’s the lucky stallion?” Chrysalis winks at her.

“Your Majesty, that’s not-!” 93 huffs.

“A mare then, I don’t judge,” she shrugs.

“It’s 99380!” blurts out 93.

That gives Chrysalis a pause. However, being the infiltrator queen she recovers near instantly.

“By my irresistibly addictive holes, I heard about slumming, but a drone?”

“Your Majesty, I just want to-”

“No need to describe your specific kink,” Chrysalis waves her foreleg dismissively, “You’re way too vanilla for me not to get bored anyway. Do you want to hear about how I-?”

“You’ve stretched this a little too far, Your Majesty…” 93 groans.

“Exactly what all three of them said when they slid off of my three d- so you already heard that one?” Chrysalis smirks. When 93 only sighs and looks at the floor, she rolls her eyes, “Look, 93, when I need you I’ll call you. Until then, stick to the plan. Phase one went off almost without a hitch yesterday, but you still have a lot to do.”

“I am nervous, Your Majesty.”

“That’s your problem, 93. I hereby order you to get buzzed ASAP. It’ll make dealing with the usual drone nonsense easier too.”

93 sighs.

“Understood, Your Majesty. Do you require me to…” she nods to the griffon on the bed.

“Obviously. Should I start giving you points as motivation too?”

“No need, Your Majesty.”

“Good, then go out and enjoy yourself. Remember the plan.”

With another bow, 93 leaves the suite. Chrysalis shakes her head as she glances at the completely exhausted griffon, and mumbles to herself:

“Not a particularly filling experience, but so far it doesn’t feel like the drones need too much of a refill. Shame they did a better job in that regard than both 93 and 387.”

What she doesn’t know is that 387 is standing by the wall of the hoofmaiden suite next door, ear pressed against it, with a devious smirk on his face.

I KNEW IT! I knew there was more than just going on a trip. Now, how to figure out her overall goal and stop it before it screws us over?

Day 2 - Points: 3/9

The radio has been making noises for some time. Not talking, just making noises. 99380 starts humming along and swaying its head from side to side because those are pleasant noises.

“Liking the music, I take it?” the bartender asks when he hears the changeling following the tune pretty much perfectly, only with a tiny delay, “Quiet lo-fi goes great with early morning.”

“I like these noises very much,” replies 99380 politely, “Is the Fuzzy lady making those too?”

“No, that’s just a recording. So… you don’t know how music works either?”

99380 shakes its head, feeling even more lost than usual.

“Sorry…”

“I didn’t mean it as criticism,” the bartender says quickly, “I’m just surprised, that’s all. I thought that you changelings kinda knew everything about ponies so that you could… umm… you know… do the whole replacement thing.”

“Ooooh!” 99380 nods in understanding, “That’s high ranks, not us drones. I’m sure 93 or 387 know all about music and radios and Fluffy ladies, and the Queen does for sure, but we just live in the tunnels of the hive, digging holes and moving anything that needs moving.”

“You mean you’ve never replaced a pony and feasted on their partner’s love?”

“Oh holes no,” 99380 chuckles, shaking its head, “I’ve never even seen a pony up close before this whole trip.”

“Funny how little we know about each other,” the bartender finishes with his examination of stock, “Hey, changeling, I gotta go down for supplies. If you want, I can leave the radio on.”

“That would be great!” 99380 beams, “Do you think there will be more talking ponies on?”

“For sure.”

99380 puts its head on the counter and closes its eyes, listening to the music and humming along. Peaceful minutes pass until the drone hears approaching hoofsteps and the bar stool next to it moves.

“Heya!” says a cheerful, slightly buzzing voice.

99380 mentally prods the closest hive link, from which comes a chipper reply:

“Yep, that’s me too!”

The link is familiar but still one which it had never connected to before. The drone sits up and turns to the right, facing…

…the wide open teal eyes and the happy smile of another drone. This one is practically glowing with love and there are absolutely no scratches or unhealed scars anywhere on its carapace. On top of everything, it has a belt with a small, dark purple saddle bag around its chest, a scabbard with a metal stick on a belt around its waist, and it’s wearing horseshoes of the same hue.

“Hi!” 99380 pokes the other drone’s chest, concluding its examination with: “You’re not from the hive, are ya?”

“Of course I am!” the other drone pauses, “I mean, I hatched there but I live in Canterlot these days. My name’s 65536. Nice to meet you!” it offers a hoof, “That’s a pony thing - you shake it.”

“Ohmyholes, you’re the hero of soup! I’m 99380,” it hooks a jagged protrusion on its foreleg into 65536’s leg hole and they shake their forelegs, “What are you doing here? The pony said he had to get some things but he didn’t need any help carrying them. Goop, I suppose I should have asked just to be sure. Oh well, there will be another chance to gain points.”

“Points? I like those. What do you get for them?” asks 65536, “Did you see Luna's plushie in High Score’s shrine? I got it by earning enough points for smacking fake gribblers.”

“Woooow,” 99380’s jaw drops from being in the presence of a legend, “I don’t think I’m allowed to do that here, though.”

65536 turns its head from side to side.

“Yup, no real or fake gribblers anywhere in sight. How do you get points then?”

“By helping!”

“Gasp! That’s the best way!” 65536’s ears perk up, “You wanna help me?”

“For sure. I can dig stuff but I’m not allowed to, I can carry stuff too, and I learned how to hum a music today.”

“THEN WE CAN CARRY AND HUM TOGETHER!” exclaims 65536 and hops down from the bar stool.

“Wait wait wait!” 99380 shakes its head, “I’m not sure I can leave while the radio is making noises.”

“Ooooh, that’s a conundrum, but I think I can help,” 65536 flies up on the counter and to the radio. A second of fiddling later, the radio shuts down with a click, “Ta daa!”

“YOU’RE SO SMART!” 99380 nearly falls off of its stool.

“I like you,” 65536 trots back across the counter before jumping on its stool and then on the floor.

“I like everyone,” replies 99380, following 65536, “As long as they’re not mean.”

“Most ponies are nice when you get to meet them,” 65536 leads the way towards the open establishment on the other side of the deck, “But there are baddies too. I get to meet them sometimes as a Nightguard. And when I do, I gotta stand my ground and stop them from doing bad things.”

“Sounds scary,” 99380 nods its head wisely, “I don’t think I’d be able to do that. Before we went on this trip, I had to run away from thorny shooters and they scratched me something fierce.”

“Ohhh, those are nasty. I’d run too.”

“Whoah, really?!”

“Yup. Sometimes you just gotta run too, but the trick is knowing when you do and when you don’t. And, you know, sometimes you gotta stay so that the others can run. It’s tough,” 65536 rubs the side of its head, “Two months ago, I had to stop a baddie trying to rob an old mare,” when faced with 99380’s puzzled look, 65536 adds, “That means he tried to take her stash without permission. He was armed too, with a studded club - that’s a sturdy stick with knobs for harder smacking.”

“That’s mean!” 99380 frowns, “And dangerous. Sticks can be nasty.”

“Yup, So I showed him my badge, then I wibbled at him, nothing worked.”

“OH NO!” 99380 gasps in horror.

“Yup, I had to use my truncheon - that’s a slightly padded anti-baddie smacking stick that hurts but doesn’t harm you much,” 65536 pats the scabbard on its belt before showing 99380 its singular leg hole in its left foreleg, “You stick it into your cup holder and swing it. Ponies gotta use their mouths, which means they don’t get that much reach, so this works super well.”

“I was wondering why you had only one hole in each foreleg and both in the same place.”

“Oh, it’s not just for weapons. Cup holders are super useful. I’ll show ya,” 65536 flies up to take a good look at the counter of the establishment they’ve finally reached. There are twelve drone-sized vats filled with a different colorful substance each. In short, it’s an ice cream stand, “I’ll have a big cone of vanilla with chocolate chips, please, plus the Ultra Giga Tub of cookie dough flavor with banana chunks,” 65536 points to two vats before giving the chubby mare behind the counter its badge.

“That tub’s bigger than you, little guy,” she chuckles, “Are you guards even allowed to eat so much?”

“That’s not for me,” 65536 shakes its head, “How about you, 99380?”

“How about me what?” the drone tilts its head.

“You don’t want ice cream?”

“Umm, that thing?” 99380 flies up to 65536’s level and looks through the protective glass shield. After a brief examination, it points at a green vat, “I like the color.”

“Okie dokie,” says the mare while giving 65536 its cone. Some staring at 99380 later, she adds, “I need your identification to know which delegation’s tab to charge.”

“Like this,” 65536 waves its Nightguard badge before putting it back into its bag.

“I, uhh, didn’t get anything like that. Was I supposed to?” 99380 looks around, unsure how to proceed.

“Can you check if Queen Chrysalis set up a spendings account for the staff?” asks 65536.

The mare looks under the counter, pulls out a notepad, flicks some pages, and finally shakes her head.

“I’m afraid that Queen Chrysalis’ delegation only set up the royal level account.”

“That sounds just like her,” chuckles 65536 while shaking its head, “Alrighty, one cone of mint on my tab for my buddy.”

“Coming right up while the tub fills,” the mare grabs a second cone to fill it with the mint-flavored ice cream. With expert speed, she soon offers it to 99380 who carefully grabs it with both forelegs and sniffs it.

“Smells like 36658’s agonyslayers.”

“Isn’t it making tormentannihilators now?” asks 65536.

“I think the newest version is called sufferingobliterators, but that one’s still in development.”

“Nice! Anyway, look,” 65536 slips the cone directly into its leg hole until it gets stuck, “Cup holders. Cone holders too,” it waves its leg to show that the cone wont drop out, “Try it!”

“That’s so useful!” 99380’s jaw drops along with the cone into its freshly customized leg hole. It observes 65536 for an example on what to do with this cream made of ice, whatever that means. Licking it looks to be the main goal, so the drone does so, “Brrrrrr!” it shudders, “IT’S SO COLD!”

“That’s the point. It cools you down when the sun makes it too hot out here,” 65536 smiles, its mouth covered in white smudges, “Miss Gem always says I shouldn’t eat so much sweet stuff, that I’m a diabeetus on legs already, but it’s just so delicious!”

“I like this thingy,” 99380 gathers the courage to bite off a bigger chunk before its eye starts twitching, “Myheadmyheadmyheadmyhead!”

“Oooh, brain freeze. You gotta eat slower,” 65536 nods knowingly.

“I SO WISH I WAS SMILEY RIGHT NOW!” exclaims 99380.

65536 doesn’t react to 99380 rubbing its head, instead looking straight up at someone suddenly casting a huge shadow over both of them. When 99380 recovers, it looks up too, and its flight-and-more-flight instinct takes over. Unfortunately, maybe, its legs completely fail to listen.

The new arrival is a positively massive unicorn mare. Not as tall as Princess Celestia, but she could be very close to Luna’s size, and broader. Her bulging muscles hint at her being able to pick up the entire ice cream stand and throw it from one end of the ship to the other, if she even needed to do so without the telekinesis provided by her long horn. Her tail is cropped short and bound, her mane is styled into a pixie cut, and both are bright, almost platinum, blond. 99380’s eyes linger on something it recognizes, though, which is the wealth of scars criss-crossing her short, white coat all over her body. Either ponies don’t heal those as easily as changelings do, or she’s keeping them to show all the wounds she suffered, 99380 can’t even begin to guess which. What the real thing paralyzing it is, is her missing right eye crossed by yet another vertical scar, fully replaced by a pool of gold glow. All her scars seem to be glowing golden from the inside, in fact, albeit only slightly in contrast to the lost eye. Her healthy eye is normal green, a fact which lets 99380 breathe again when it notices it.

65536 salutes.

“Good morning, Acting Grandmaster Sun Hammer!”

The mare’s stern expression doesn’t change as she replies:

“You’re off-duty. No reason to salute.”

“Mister Sharp used to say that we’re all off-duty only until there’s trouble and then we’re on duty again, no matter where we are or what time it is,” counters 65536 with a proud smile.

“He was a good pony and I’m glad to see he left his mark on you,” she nods.

99380 salutes with a trembling foreleg.

*Squelch!*

“I’m a unicorn now…” it mumbles, staring at the mare non-stop while the ice cream starts dripping down its head from the cone stuck on its forehead by the nervous salute, “I’m cold now…” tears pool in its eyes as the mare focuses all her attention at it, “...and scared…”

Her presence. It’s so much worse than being glared at by a high rank after failing at filling its quota. 99380 did something completely idiotic in front of her and it knows she will remember and do… something.

However, she only glances at 65536 before stepping past 99380 without a word. The drone lies down on the floor and covers its head with both forelegs, smudging the ice cream all over itself. It’s only 65536 licking its head that makes it look up again.

“Ahh, good old mint. I don’t buy that one much these days,” says 65536, draping one foreleg over 99380, “You okay, buddy?” it asks, voice full of concern.

“N-No,” 99380 looks at the now empty cone stuck in its cup holder, “I was so scared… and now she knows how much of a dummy I am… and that means I made the hive look bad too… and-”

“Here,” two fresh cones float over to, held by the golden glimmer of telekinesis, both filled by chocolate ice cream. One stops in front of 99380 and one by 65536, “Be more careful with these.”

“Wooow, thank you!” 65536 smiles as Sun Hammer walks away, heading towards the front of the ship.

“T-Thank you,” stutters out 99380, the ice cream stuck in the air in front of it despite the telekinesis fading.

“Your Giga Tub is ready,” announces the stall owner.

“Perfect!” 65536 pats 99380’s back, “I got ice cream to carry and places to be. Wait, one more thing.”

“Huh?” 99380 sniffles and looks at 65536.

“Boop!” 65536 pokes its nose, and 99380 feels its love reserves replenish completely, “Took me a while to learn to do that properly,” 65536 grabs the massive bucket of ice cream and goops it to its back before waving at 99380, “See ya later, and don’t forget to eat the cone too!”

“Bye bye!” 99380 waves back, stunned by everything that just happened and munching on the empty cone.

“Darn,” the stall owner walks over, “Can I help you clean up?”

“Huh?” 99380 wipes its eyes, only succeeding in adding crumbs to the ice cream mess all over its face, “No… no… I made a dummy of myself but at least I can be a clean dummy,” it looks downwards, “And I’ll wipe the floor too. No reason to waste good icy cream,” it starts licking the mint off of the floor as the second cone remains floating near it without melting.

“Oookay,” she has no idea what to do about the changeling eating off the floor as if it was normal, so she just says, “And don’t feel bad. I almost peed myself when she ordered the ice creams for you. That mare was terrifying.”

99380 couldn’t agree more.

Author's Note

You know how failing series get a cameo from a successful series to boost viewership? This, but in written form.

Day 2 - Points: 4/9

“If you’re not showering then get out of here!” a mare looks out of a shower stall with an annoyed expression, pointing towards the small locker room where two other mares are waiting, holding a towel each, “And stop making that green mess everywhere. It’s disgusting!”

99111 stops measuring the distance to the central floor drain with its foreleg on the back of Smiley curled up into a ball. 99526, currently standing between the two and the drain itself, holding a clump of green soap and preparing a soapy trail over which Smiley should slide right past the drain and between two selected tiles, shoves the clump into its leg hole and looks around innocently.

“We’re not blocking the stalls, are we?” it asks no one in particular.

“You’re scaring other ponies and, unlike you, we’re busy!” replies the annoyed mare.

“Can we play in the corner?” asks 99526.

“Go away or I’ll get the hose!” she grabs the shower nozzle and pulls it off of the wall, revealing an extending hose connected to it through a hole in the stall. Threateningly, she points it at the three rather confused changelings.

Figuring out that the curling session is over, Smiley sits up, examines the situation by sniffing towards the mare, and completely fails to come to any conclusion.

“Five… four…” the mare starts counting down, and pauses, giving the changelings a meaningful look.

“Three,” 99111 gestures to her in an attempt to jog her memory, “And after that comes two.”

The mare’s eye twitches, she points the nozzle at 99111, flips a small switch on its side, and kicks the control handle on the wall behind her. 99526, seeing such a neatly coordinated trick, clops its hooves together…

…just as a thick, pressurized jet of cold water hits 99111 directly in the face.

“EEEEE-BLLRLBRLBLRLBRL!”

Giggling and happily clapping 99526 gets hit by a second stream coming from a different mare, tries to dodge, slips up, and slides into a wall. 99111 ends up the same, albeit with a bit more success during the first dodge. Smiley smiles. Despite angry voices in the beginning, now it looks like everyone is having fun again.

“GET. OUT.”

99111 and 99526 rush into the locker room and then outside. The originally shy mares finally enter the shower section as well, shooting Smiley suspicious glances all the way.

“You didn’t hear me?” the angry mare points the nozzle at Smiley who looks around and, without much worry, starts scrubbing the green soap residue off of the floor with its forelegs, “Grrrr!”

As the jet of water hits its back, Smiley just softens its carapace a tiny bit and concentrates entirely on cleaning the tiles. The massage feels nice so Smiley decides to try it with warm water next time.

***

After splitting up, 99111 wanders the insides of the ship. Thankfully, the Queen and 93 are close enough to be sharing the knowledge that allows it to read the signs on the walls.

So… points. 387 said anyone would be able to check them whenever needed.

10013: 0

20100: 0

36658: 0

99111: 0

99380: 1

99526: 0

Smiley: 0

Neat! For the good of all drones, I must make sure I’m ahead of 36658 and 20100 no matter what.

99111 examines the hive mind map of the ship, searching for places where it could be of use.

“Hmmm… a workshop is nearby. Not sure about shopping, but work sounds promising,” it heads off towards the map marker.

The thick metal door seems to be sending a message that 99111 shouldn’t be going inside. However, it quickly becomes clear after entering that the main reason for the door being so heavy must be the padding blocking the mix of loud noises inside.

There’s a SECURITY pony working on something at the corner table. A mare is sitting at a different table operating a sewing machine. Loud clanging is coming from a griffon fixing a bent metal leg of a bar stool. Finally, amidst all that mess, Gem is carefully monitoring a set of beakers and much more chemistry equipment on a table in front of her. Seeing a familiar face, 99111 approaches the zebra.

“Hello, Miss Gem!”

“Hello, 99111,” she replies amicably.

“You can distinguish between us?” 99111 gasps.

“You’re the only one I introduced myself to yesterday,” she remains staring at a small pile of white powder crystallizing from liquid in a thimble-sized glass jar.

“That’s such defective thinking!” 99111 blinks in surprise.

“Detective,” she corrects it, dipping a needle-shaped stick with a wool swab on the end in the powder.

99111 immediately re-checks the hive mind if it misspoke and realizes that yes, it did.

“You’re right, how did you know I meant that? The other thing would make a pony angry… I think.”

“Too much of a body language, personality, and speech discrepancy-” Gem stops herself, “Doesn’t matter. Can I help you?”

“Oh, no no no,” 99111 shakes its head, “I mean, maybe, but that’s what I wanted to ask you.”

“I thought you guys were here on a break. If that’s the case then you should be having fun and enjoying yourself,” she nods to the other current occupants of the workshop, “The only ones working right now are staff members keeping this ship floating and the shops stocked.”

“Well, it’s not so simple-”

While Gem’s doing her completely mysterious activity, 99111 explains its situation regarding points, its beef with 36658 and 20100, and the reward it must win for the greater good.

“-I mean I’m not completely against them sharing their stories, but those like the one that High Score once threw a burning glob of goop into a swarm of needly shooters, the glob killed six of them, and then it exploded are silly and unhelpful!”

“That’s a tough situation,” says Gem, mixing the contents of two vials together, “To me it sounds like there’s no clear answer to which one of you is right. Opinion against opinion, both with advantages and drawbacks, is always difficult.”

“387 said something similar,” 99111 sighs, “but he’s not the one down in the depths. This is a drone conflict. Thankfully, 387 gave us the option to resolve it the drone way - by being useful. So…” it looks up at Gem with a hopeful face, “is there a way I can help you?”

“Unless you know a changeling skilled in drug making, I’m not really sure how-” she pauses, seeing 99111 freeze with a scrunched face, “You know one, don’t you?”

If I tell her, 36658 might get a point. If I don’t tell her, I’ll be a bad drone.

What would High Score d-? NO! What would any respectable LIVING drone do? What would 10013 do?

10013 did admit that High Score was rank 9999, not some super ling, even if it clearly respects High Score.

After the moral dilemma, 99111 grumbles quietly:

“...36658…”

“I didn’t hear you over that griffon’s hammering,” Gem smirks.

“36658 knows how to make some healing drugs,” 99111 pouts at her, “I can go tell it to come see you.”

“It’s worth a try. Thank you,” Gem gives it a warm smile.

Next, she pats 99111’s head, and the drone immediately feels love course through it and fill it up. An idea comes to mind, a much less combative one.

Perhaps I could earn a point by sharing with everyone. The less the Queen or the high ranks have to worry about our well-being, the more time they’ll have to enjoy themselves.

“Fine, I’ll go find 36658,” 99111 lets out a heavy sigh, “But remember, it’s a meanie who deserves only half a point at best!”

Gem chuckles.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

***

Having received a back massage and successfully cleaned the mess left behind by the curling practice, Smiley wanders around the ship until it reaches a door. Unlike many it’s passed since boarding, this one is impeding its progress, which in itself isn’t a problem, but according to the current state of the hive map, this door doesn’t lead anywhere, and that seems strange. Going backwards wouldn’t solve anything, and the strange scribbles above the door mean nothing to Smiley.

Puzzled face.

It walks into the door for a short time, just in case it budges. Its forehead is now a little sore, so it hardens its carapace again. Clearly, massage time is irrevocably over. Perhaps it could head up instead of down this time? Most of the other minds it can faintly sense seem to be that way. It boops the door with its nose to no avail.

Disappointed face.

*BOOM!*

A loud explosion behind it rattles the nearest door to the left-

Spooked face! Spooked face!

-immediately followed by a thin plume of black smoke coming from under it.

*BANG BANG BANG!*

Someone is on the other side, coughing, choking, and kicking the door. Twitching with every weakening blow against the wood, Smiley pushes against the handle.

Nothing happens.

Confused face.

Smiley saw other drones operate a handle. This one doesn’t look any different.

“...can’t see… kick the door… locked… pleeease…” a barely audible voice croaks on the other side.

The voice isn’t saying any orders, but the tone doesn’t feel as if everything is okay.

“...help…”

Finally, a clear request in a word Smiley can understand.

Smiley kicks the door with all its limited might. It shakes but holds fast. One more failed attempt later, Smiley comes to the executive decision - the entire point of its existence was supposedly to go splat against a shimmering pink bubble. That means it’s made for going splat against things. It’s also supposed to help others. Door is a thing and someone is behind it, calling for help. Equation solved, Smiley walks to the door on the opposite side, hardens its carapace as much as it can, and charges straight forward.

The lock can’t handle a direct hit like that, and the door slams open inside, letting out clouds of heavy, black smoke into the hallway. In response, something starts beeping everywhere, but Smiley is too dazed by the impact to escape, lying head-down bent into a C against the outer wall of the ‘unlocked’ cabin.

The coughing and wheezing grows stronger and is joined by hoofsteps rushing closer until someone asks:

“What happened here? Where’s the fire?”

More hacking and gasping for air later, a raspy female voice replies:

“No… no fire… just smoke bombs… for the… resort show. Now which… which one of you… saved The Great… and Breathing… Trixie’s lungs?”

As a security pegasus fans the black clouds into the hallway, Smiley’s upside-down vision clears, revealing an incredibly cramped cabin full of chests and bags, a group of security staff, and a white-maned blue unicorn mare still gasping for air with tears streaming from her red-rimmed eyes.

They all look at Smiley who tries to wave at them with its hind legs, because those are the legs that are higher and thus closer to the faces of everyone. Sometimes, simple instructions are the best.

Upside-down, waiting face.

10013: 0

20100: 0

36658: 0

99111: 0

99380: 1

99526: 0

Smiley: 5

Happy face.

10013: 0

20100: 0

36658: 0

99111: 0

99380: 1

99526: 0

Smiley: :-) :-) :-) :-) :-)

“What the holes?!”

Author's Note

Hope you had a peaceful Easter or anything you celebrate.
Head still not making the happy goo.
Here's some droning.
Back to work. Zug zug.

Day 2 - Points: 5/9

99526 is staring at a heavily-built griffon wearing a white shirt and a hat associated with the ship's staff. Said griffon is operating some completely unknown machinery situated by the railing in the back of the cruise ship, enjoying the relative quiet and seemingly not particularly bothered by the changeling’s presence.

There are two reasons why 99526 is here.

The first one is that it’s never seen a griffon before, and the hive mind tooltip only said [Aggressive, to be avoided]. On the other hole, no one on the ship was to harm the changelings, supposedly, and despite the warning, the griffon didn’t throw anything when he first saw 99526, nor did he yell at it to go away. Such a discrepancy needed to be rectified, and maybe reporting a misleading hive mind tooltip would earn it a point or two.

The second reason is the main one. Next to the griffon sits a heavy box with steam coming out of it from which 99526 can smell ringy chompers. Ringy chompers are always bad news - you see a ring on the water and if you don’t react immediately you get chomped. Those monsters being anywhere on the ship could be the worst thing ever and would make curling unplayable.

“Hello, Mister griffon!” 99526 finally gathers the courage to speak out, “Why are you putting ringy chompers into a box?”

“Ring what?” he only looks back at the drone carefully circling the ice box, rotating the drum of a stationary winch, “Hey, leave that alone! That’s for the Manehattan griffon ambassador.”

99526 stops trying to peek over the edge of the ice box.

“Are those… dead?”

“Yeah. Pretty hard to grill them when they’re still alive,” replies the griffon, finally pulling out a small net containing several more ringy chompers.

“Phew,” 99526 lets out a sigh of relief before trotting over to the griffon who empties the net on the floor and starts picking out some of the caught fish. Freshly caught fish, “AAAAH!” 99526 jumps backwards when the nearest ringy chomper flaps one final time before remaining lying limp on the floor, “Be careful or they’ll eat you!”

The griffon raises an eyebrow, meaningfully slitting the throat of a fish with a talon and letting it bleed out before tossing it into the ice box.

“Did you need anything or are you just here to freak out over herrings?”

Gasping for air, heart beating, and shaking from adrenaline, 99526 glares at the small, now motionless, fish. A rather small fish, now that it thinks about it.

“Those… those are kinda… small. Does that mean… they don’t eat… changelings? The ringy chompers I know about can bite a drone in half, or at least take a leg off easily.”

With the icebox now full, the griffon seems to be done with its selection process. He grabs one of the remaining herrings and lobs it into the air. A seagull swoops down from a cloud of them hanging above the ship’s rear, catching it before any other can.

“We eat them,” is all the griffon says, “And so do they.”

99526 carefully approaches a dead herring and slowly pokes it with the tip of its hoof. When it doesn’t move anymore, the drone looks at the griffon who grabs a different one and throws it to the circling birds again.

“Can I do that too?” asks 99526.

“I don’t know, can you?” the griffon shrugs. 99526 has no clue how to read an expression of someone with a beak, but the griffon’s eyes look on the border of amusement.

99526 loads a fish into its leg hole and lobs it as hard as it can. The arc is significantly lower than the casual throw of the griffon, and 99526 rushes over to the railing to take a look at the fish falling back into the sea.

And whoosh!

With only the smallest splash, a seagull catches it just before it hits the water, prompting a happy ‘Eeee!’ from the drone as well as an approving clap.

“If you want, you can throw the rest to the birds too. They’re not fit for grilling,” the griffon hefts the icebox onto its back, “Guests often do that. I’ll be back in ten to clean the deck.”

“Thank you!” replies 99526 politely, grabbing another fish to throw.

The griffon leaves.

As 99526 fails another throw and leans over, its eyes catch a floaty lagging behind the ship like one which Miss Cadance showed it yesterday. It’s barely visible, though, being the same color as the sea water. 99526 could swear there’s someone holding onto it, but no one is calling for help or anything, so it’s probably fine.

Now, if these aren’t ringy munchers then we don’t have a name for them, but I don’t know what those do to name them properly, so let’s stick to the griffon name.

After throwing the rest of the herrings to the birds, 99526 grabs the mop which the griffon left behind and starts wiping the deck.

***

“Points, points, pointy points,” mutters 10013 to itself as it wanders through the corridors of the ship, “Be helpful, don’t make the high ranks refill you, or do something special for the hive. Come to think of it, what do ponies do here all day? High Score, give me a sign!” 10013 pauses, looks around, and when nothing happens it adds, “Please?” with a chuckle and shaking its head, the drone passes a staircase next to which hangs a sign reading [Schedule] under which there’s a long list filled with writing.

Good thing I helped the Potatoes with designing High Score’s memorial so I don’t have to tap into anyone to read this.

“Thanks, buddy,” 10013 looks at the floor, “I hope the great gablonk is full of shinies today.”

Satisfied, 10013 reads the sign.

“Oooh, light show on the main deck!” it slowly deciphers the writing closest to its head, unfortunately, it’s the one on the bottom of the list, “21:00 - uhh, hive mind?” in response, the hive mind translates the military time to the time of the day in a way the drone can understand, “Ah, close to pony sleepy time. Alrighty,” it flies up to the beginning of the list, “Lecture, public - griffon customs and etiquette, lecture, public - a brief history of Crystal Empire, lecture, public-”

> Translation: Story time for everyone.

“-ah. Oooh, Presentation, public - Life and times of Gusty the Great-”

> Translation: Story time with pictures.

10013 drops on the ground again.

All these storytimes sound pretty interesting. Maybe learning about other places could be useful for points too?

***

36658 has been tracking 20100’s hive link in order to secure an ally in the great war for points. Also to ask if 20100 has any ideas on how to gain these elusive things, because, so far, the daily life on the ship didn’t have a place for a drone looking for work aside from their stroke of luck yesterday.

“Whatcha doing?” it asks, finally finding the drone in question curled up on the roof of a tall, multi-story establishment covering the back third of the main deck.

“Drawing!” replies 20100, showing the picture of a sunrise done in pencil that would bring a tear to the eye of any master painter.

“No point gathering?”

“Nope. I asked around and everyone I met said they were busy,” 20100 shrugs, “So I decided to get started practicing on backgrounds for my new moving picture set about High Score.”

“Oooh, what’s it going to be?”

“I’m not exactly sure yet. I was thinking about what 99111 said and I wanted it to be a little more grounded but still awesome.”

“More grounded you say? How about the one about when High Score carried an important but super fragile egg, it didn’t walk and bob up and down, but instead it carefully moved the world with its legs while staying in one place?”

“How was that more grounded?” 20100 gives it a skeptical look.

“It’s set back at home, so it’s undergrounded!”

“Huh, I can see the logic, but, you know, did that really happen?”

“Well…” 36658 rubs its chin, “Who can say that it didn’t, right?”

“The queen or the high ranks. You know, the same changelings whom High Score would stop from munching us forever if it could do everything you say.”

Faced with such resistance from a long-time friend, 36658 grabs 20100 by the shoulders and looks it in the eyes.

“High Score saved my life. High Score saved your life. High Score saved the lives of many drones. I don’t want it to be forgotten, which will happen if I just say that it was a drone who got the highest rank by being the smartest and the most skilled. We -the drone we, not us we- need more than that, buddy.”

“Will you listen to me if I say something that’s borderline 99111-ish or will you just hear what I say and ignore me?” 20100 gently pushes 36658 back.

“You’re my buddy, 20100. Of course I will!”

“Then don’t you think you’re pushing High Score away from us drones by those over the top stories?”

“Uhhh, I don’t understand.”

“Wasn’t the whole point of spreading the word about High Score showing the newly hatched drones what they can become instead of… all this? I don’t even know what to call what we’re doing these days. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I kiiinda understand where 99111 is coming from.”

36658 stares, opens its mouth, closes it, stares.

20100 sighs, adding:

“I’m sorry, buddy. I for sure don’t think 99111’s way is right either, but I think there should be a middle between the two of you. You want a picture? I drew a huge, scary, unicorn lady I saw swimming in a pool earlier. She glowed!” it flips the pages of its notepad to show 36658.

36658, however, turns around and starts walking away.

“I’m… I’m just gonna go… wibble… in the corner somewhere…”

20100 flips the notepad to a fresh page, ignoring the incomplete sunrise picture, and starts drawing a perfect likeness of 9999 from memory.

High Score will reveal to us the right path, we just have to be patient and never give up on looking. I know, deep in my noggin, that you and 99111 will figure out a way that will make us drones stronger and better than ever.

***

As 36658 wanders through the bowels of the ship, now emptying due to everyone enjoying themselves on the main deck again, a hive link communication it would expect the least arrives in its head:

“Finally!” says 99111, which is followed by a mental marker appearing on the hive mind map, “Look, Miss Gem is looking for you. That’s the nice zebra we met yesterday in the showers. She said it was something about making agonyslayers. I warned her about you being a violent meanie, but her business sounded important.”

Even 36658 has to admit that aimlessly walking around like it’s been doing for the last hour is leading nowhere. On the other hole, the one presenting the information is the ultimate heretic.

“...thanks…” it forces out, changing its direction mid-step towards the new marker.

Hesitant silence fills the mental connection, and after a moment, 99111 asks:

“Are you okay?”

36658 ponders it for several seconds. It understands 99111’s and 20100’s and now probably everyone’s concerns, but… but none of them seem to understand or want to understand its position. Could it be because it’s in the wrong?

I wish I knew the big words and how to string those together to help me explain all this properly. This isn’t about us, this is about the future.

“...I don’t know…” it replies and cuts off the connection.

Day 2 - Points: 6/9

The workshop is now empty with the exception of Gem who now has three tables set up in an angular C around herself, all filled with glassware containing powders and liquids of various colors. Despite its current philosophical conundrum, 36658 can’t help being interested, so as it approaches Gem’s workspace it grabs a chair and hops on it.

“99111 said you could use some help, Miss Gem. I’m 36658.”

“Nice to meet you, 36658. I was told you had some experience with chemistry. I need help with refining a particular substance, and I myself am not sure what exact result I’m looking for,” the zebra flashes it only the shortest glance.

36658 looks around, taking in the strange shapes and functions of the surrounding glassware.

“I, umm, I don’t think we mean the same thing, Miss. I just eat various things and then check if my goop makes getting smacked hurt less.”

“Things such as?”

“It used to be zebra bark but now I use poppies, and I’m experimenting with slimy hoppers, but that’s not working as intended yet.”

“Standard painkillers, hospital-grade,” mumbles Gem while examining the level of liquid in one of the bendy bottles, “...frogs?”

“Not just any slimy hoppers, this is a small yellow kind from the swamp north of my poppy patch. I tried licking other kinds but they were just bleh.”

“Hayseed Swamp, got it. What makes the frogs special?”

“Ehhh… they smell different?” 36658 replies hesitantly.

“I mean, what effects do they help you produce? What makes them different from morphine?”

“Mor-what?”

“Poppy-based drugs.”

“Ah, you mean tormentannihilators. Well, these new ones kinda make me feel less worried up here,” 36658 taps its head, “Smiley helped me once and I swear it kept making happy faces at me all the way from the hive, and 10013 told me it felt a bit more active. I call them sufferingobliterators.”

“Less worried… so, a psychoactive substance,” Gem pauses, “You just might be what I needed.”

“Really? I haven't done anything yet.”

That dismissal makes Gem pause what she’s doing and lean over the workbench to the drone.

“You seem troubled. Is there a way I can help?”

“Huh? I’m supposed to be helping you, Miss, not the other way around.”

“Friends help each other, don’t they? Besides, this is going to likely take a lot of time, and sitting here in silence would be a little boring. What’s bothering you- wait, first, do you have a sample of that sufferingobliterator?”

36658’s jaw drops.

“YOU SAID IT RIGHT!” it regains a little bit of the usual drone enthusiasm. Gem remains looking at it with a questioning look, “Oh, yeah, this… yeah… very experimental,” it opens a leg hole and puts a small green chip on the table.

“Thank you,” Gem smiles, pulls out a small silvery flask from her saddlebag, takes a swig, swishes it around her mouth, swallows, and then eats the green chip, “Zebra transformation potion. With it, I can copy yours to a degree,” she says before pulling three green chips out of her mouth, “Can you analyze these by smell or do you need a taste?”

36658 sniffs the three samples.

“They all smell the same to me, sorry,” it shakes its head, “And if they work, I’ll kinda be a bit dizzy to properly say which one does what. At home, I experiment only once every few days at most to avoid mixing stuff. What are you trying to make here, anyway?” it points at all the chemistry equipment.

“Antidepressants. For reasons too complicated to explain, I can’t simply visit a doctor and have them prescribe those. Besides, I think the current state of magic and chemistry research regarding that topic is woefully inadequate - too many side effects, too many dependencies, too little… customization. It’s like trying to forge a delicate necklace using only a maul. You can probably beat some shape into it but it’s not the best solution,” looking at 36658 and seeing a face completely empty of understanding, she simplifies it, “I’m trying to make something that helps with the pain in the head, not the rest of the body.”

“I think even my agonyslayers help with that too. We get hit in the head often.”

“That’s not it. Have you ever heard of depression?”

“Like… a shallow hole?”

“Ah, I see…” Gem pauses, pondering for a moment how to translate her problem to the drone’s understanding, “What do you enjoy, 36658? What makes you happy?”

“Digging, carrying, tending to my patch, thinking about new stories to tell about High Score, and helping drones heal after getting hurt,” replies 36658, its expression brightening a little.

“Now imagine if all that went away. You had to keep doing it, but all it did was exhaust you. You tried different things too but it all ended the same way. And that went on and on and on, and the only way out you saw was ending your own life.”

36658 freezes, its expression turns grim, and finally it starts bawling. Loud, sobbing, snot dripping down, wailing echoing through the workshop.

“Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”

Gem leans back at the reaction.

“It’s okay-” she pats its head to zero effect, “Stop imagining! Stop imagining!”

36658 stops and wipes its face.

“That was horrible!” it looks up with teary eyes at Gem.

“... that worked?” Gem tilts her head, “Nevermind, so that was an extremely simplified description of an incredibly complex problem. Now imagine that- wait, no, not again. Look, some ponies feel like that at some point in their lives. Reasons why can vary, but finding the strength to break out can be difficult or downright impossible without help. I know a stallion like that and I want to help him. While dealing with the root cause is bound to be a colossal effort, I can at least start by fixing the chemical imbalance in his brain.”

“I want to help,” says 36658 firmly, “Even if it can mean I don’t get points for today, no one deserves to feel like that. I imagined it only for a moment and I never want that again. That’s kinda how we lived before the new rules, but at least we liked digging and carrying. If that went away then we might have as well jumped into the crusher on our own. There was no hope, nothing more than a dark tunnel and inevitable death.”

“So I heard…” Gem frowns, “Can you transform into a pony?”

36658 nods and, with a burst of green fire, it turns into an earth pony.

“...hmmm… only a surface-level transformation, this won’t do…” Gem whispers to herself before speaking out loud, “I think I have an idea. Transform back,” when 36658 does so, she says, “So, you’ll transform into a pony and take one sample of these drugs. I’ll monitor your reactions, ask you a few questions, and then we’ll reset you into a changeling and then back into a fresh pony under no external effects.”

“I… think I understood, uhh, parts of that,” 36658 rubs its head.

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell you exactly what to do. Pony up again, will you?”

*Whoosh!*

For some reason, the transformation is much easier this time, even though it takes a little longer, but 36658 feels much more solid. It doesn’t know how to explain it properly even to itself, or what changed from when it did so less than a minute ago.

“I feel weird.”

“You’ve never looked better,” says Gem with a smirk, “Now eat this, and while we’re waiting for results you can finally tell me what’s bothering you,” she resumes fiddling with the various burners and beakers on the tables while 36658 makes itself comfortable in its chair.

“It’ll be a long story, Miss.”

“We both have a long day ahead of us then,” she winks at 36658.

“Heh, now that I think about it, my problem sort of fits into yours, actually.”

“How come?”

“Uhh, I think I don’t know how to explain it properly, otherwise 99111 would understand me, but I believe that things are better if we believe that there’s more to life than digging and carrying. I mean, we gotta do all that and that takes us most of our time, but we are more than… things or tools. Everyone thought Smiley was just a thing that does what anyone tells it, but now it’s getting better at thinking and it can even communicate a bit, so we can become more.”

“I’m with you so far,” agrees Gem with a distant smile undecipherable to 36658.

“So, there was this drone, 9999, who managed things no other drone could, and I want its example to inspire everyone back home, but it got killed. I don’t want its legacy to be - no matter how far you get or how good you are you’ll just get munched because you are a tiny and weak drone and you’ll never become anything else. I want us to feel like there’s someone helping us, like we’re not alone, like there’s hope and that we can achieve so much more past digging the next tunnel. So… I mix made-up stories with what 9999 really did and spread those to others, because it’s not enough to know that there was once a drone who saved a bunch of other drones from monsters over the course of its short life. I want us to feel like 9999 is still with us, and it’s inspiring us to work hard and then play hard as a reward. That little spark that makes you flee from hissy melters faster than your love levels should allow? That’s its helping hoof. It’s to motivate you to not give up if you get into trouble you know you can’t get out of, but to squeeze everything out of yourself, and maybe that tiny bit more you don’t know where it comes from. If it means saying that High Score’s tears could cure crushing, but a tough drone like High Score only cried once when it hatched and never again, is that so bad?”

Gem’s eagerly listening ears twitch at that final part, making her look up from her chemistry equipment with a raised eyebrow.

“How do you even come up with this stuff?”

“Mostly when I’m trying to make new agonyslayers and get the dose wrong. The world gets all wobbly and then whoosh - a new idea,” 36658 makes a mind-blown gesture with its forelegs.

“Ah, that explains so much…” mutters Gem, which makes 36658 pout at her, “But there’s more to it, isn’t there? You miss your friend a lot, don’t you?”

“Yeah…” 36658 breathes out, “But it’s about much more than that, and 99111 refuses to see that, saying that my stories are dangerous and make others careless. I wish I knew how to make it see what I see.”

“Hope is a double-edged sword,” she says carefully. 36658’s shoulders slump as it realizes it probably lost… again, “Look, I’m not a good pony to talk to about the psychology of faith, but I know it can drive ponies to justifying insanely evil things as well as bring motivation. My mettle is more the natural sciences,” she gestures to all the chemistry equipment around, “If it helps, I think your approach has merit but it still needs a lot of refining.”

“I’d give my stash and my poppy patch away if it meant getting 9999 back…”

Gem walks around the barrier of tables and hugs 36658.

“Believe me, I know how it feels to lose someone irreplaceable,” she whispers into its ear, “That’s why I’m doing all this - so that someone else doesn’t have to go through the same thing. We can take a break if you-”

“No,” breathes out 36658, “If I’m sharing examples of what High Score would do, I can’t be following them only when it suits me. I’m here to help, and if you’re saying this will take a long time, then I’ll be here a long time.”

Gem kisses the drone’s nose, and 36658 feels a rush of love revitalizing it.

“Sticking to your principles? I like it,” she says with a renewed smile, “So, while we’re working, how about you tell me about life in the hive and in turn I can tell you about Canterlot?”

Author's Note

Hue hue, the funny chapter number.

Day 2 - Points: 8/9

For the past fifteen minutes, increasingly confused 387 has been hearing faint music inside its head. It started out of nowhere while he was busy inconspicuously following Chrysalis, now swimming in the biggest pool of the ship being openly stared at by several stallion bodyguards belonging to the Las Pegasus delegation.

He takes a sip of his cold, unflavored soda to combat the sunlight.

Makes me wonder how hard they’d be staring if she didn’t bloat her hips just to lure them in. On the other hole, if ponies weren’t so horny, our lives would be so much more difficult.

The intrusive theme inside his head shifts into a jaunty tune of a leading fiddle mixed with modern string instruments, which prompts 387 to finally take action.

I like the music, but what in all holes is it doing in my head?

As an experiment, he hides his mental presence entirely and the music stops.

Okay, so someone wasting love by… broadcasting music through the hive mind? I swear, if I have to refill someone this early in the day I’m gonna slap a drone.

93 is currently… observing a card game inside? Looks like it’s between a unicorn from Stalliongrad and some griffon.

10013 is… attending some sort of a lecture? Weird but okay.

20100… has so far earned 12 bits by drawing portraits of ponies? I’m sorry, what?!

36658 is helping some zebra mix potions. Go figure.

99111 is helping fix a door for that unicorn Smiley saved. Speaking of the Silent, it just drew a simple facsimile of a smiling face on a blackboard in the workshop with a piece of chalk it got holes know where. Hmmm, that gives me an idea.

99526- ah, that’s where the music is coming from. Wait, no. It’s nearby, but that’s not it. 99526 is just…

387 looks back at the filling up deck spread behind him and locates the drone in question who is busy swabbing the floor near one of the many bars. 99526 catches him looking and waves.

“Hi, is there a problem?” it asks, “I got a sweet fizzy juice from the nice bartender and I can lick anything anyone spills or drops on the floor. All I gotta do is make sure it’s clean around here afterwards.”

“Just… just sniff anything that drops on the floor first in case it’s unhealthy to changelings or something,” 387 sighs, mentally counting off the minutes until someone inevitably tries to poison the drone.

“I sure will.”

As the drone resumes mopping, 387 finally finds what’s been looking for, which is 99380, sitting on the counter of said bar, humming and bobbing its head from side to side with the tune playing in 387’s mind. Surprisingly, no one seems to mind.

The warrior checks the drone’s love level and finds it absolutely satisfactory. Several brief memory checks later, he ascertains that it’s not because the drone is being refilled but rather because the broadcasting isn’t draining almost any of its resources. Drones aren’t normally skilled at mental communication enough to do it without exhausting themselves, if overused.

“99380, why are you broadcasting the music?” he asks.

“Oh right, I was doing that,” replies the drone and the music stops, “Miss 93 asked me to try it earlier and we ended up sitting here and listening to the talky box. Did you know that the Maretime Bay’s sea crest festival will be hosting hippogriffs this year? I don’t know what those are but the Fuzzy lady was really excited about it.”

“387, I was listening to the radio,” Chrysalis’ annoyed voice interrupts the conversation, “Stop bothering the drone!”

387 gets forcefully booted out of 99380’s head by the queen, and it takes about two minutes before the music begins effortlessly flowing through the hive mind again.

Minimal energy drain and it can’t restart immediately. It’s clear that 99380 isn’t doing it entirely consciously, and 93 knows about it.

The warrior finishes his drink. It’s going to be a long day, but so far nothing is on fire and that’s the critical thing. If he remains vigilant, he’s bound to eventually get some idea of what Chrysalis’ plan is.

***

Instinct is a wonderful thing, but can also be a set of heavy shackles. For quite some time now, 93 has been strolling across the deck, unbothered by the rough estimate of three hundred guests enjoying the sunny day, looking for something which, as the queen ordered, she would find ‘fun’. Exploring the depths of 99380’s newly discovered broadcasting skill was interesting for a short while several hours ago, but it quickly became clear that the drone’s mental ability was simplistic and… hard-wired, so spending more time on attempting to customize it would prove fruitless.

93 checks the status of all drones multiple times, and doesn’t find anything that requires her involvement. Some of the images she draws from their minds are confusing, but their overall demeanor doesn’t hint at anything problematic. Experimentally, 93 attempts to sneak into 387’s mind and, as always, finds it slipping away, which means the warrior doesn’t need her help either. She asked the queen before about how a warrior can resist her mental abilities, and the queen simply said that 387 and a couple others were special and to not worry about it.

So, here’s the problem - 93 has nothing to do and, unlike the queen, she doesn’t feel any particular need to attract the attention of hunky stallions from various delegations. Here, on the cruise ship filled with creatures from all corners of Equestria, with drinks and food of various cultures to at least taste, and with attractions meant to take one’s mind off of troubles of daily life, she’s bored and it’s only her own fault.

No, bored isn’t the correct word, although it works. There’s no place for her here, no activity into which she could comfortably insert herself. The worst part is that she’s the only one. A changeling, the being genetically forged to blend in, is the only one sticking out like a sore hoof.

Her lazy walking eventually brings her to a long line of ponies chatting with each other and waiting for something related to 20100 whose mind is pretty much overflowing with busy joy. Curious, she walks to the front of the queue to see what’s going on, and stops when she spots 20100 sitting on a bar stool under which there’s a small pile of gold, an easel and a canvas in front of it and a short paint brush creatively stuck in its leg hole so that it aims outwards as if lengthening the hoof. The drone itself is splattered with paint, not minding it whatsoever and excitedly painting away.

What’s more interesting to 93, however, is the second changeling drone on a bar stool next to it, watching and occasionally pointing at 20100’s painting with a suggestion or two:

“No no no no, you don’t always gotta mix the paints. You can layer them over each other, so that from a distance it kinda blends but not really.”

Clearly, this has been going on for a long time, and 20100 gives the brush to the other drone in response, hops off of the stool, and runs a short distance away. The second drone paints a few lines, 20100 gasps, slapping its forelegs over its mouth and probably not poisoning itself with paint, and gallops back to the easel.

“IT’S TWO COLORS BUT IT LOOKS LIKE ONE FROM OVER THERE AND HERE IT’S LIKE TWO LINES AND IT’S SO COOL!” 20100 hops up and down, yelling with excitement. That doesn’t seem to bother anyone, and the ponies waiting in line are clearly used to the outbursts, “Heya, 93!” 20100 beams at her as she walks over to examine what’s going on.

“You look like you’re having fun,” she comments.

“I’m painting ponies and getting shinies!” 20100 gestures at her to come have a look before pointing at the gold under its stool, “AND LOOK WHO’S HERE TOO!” it finally points at 65536.

“Hello!” 65536 waves and smiles at her, “I’m 65536.”

“I’m 93,” she blinks when she sees 20100’s painting in its full glory. It depicts a unicorn mare currently waiting nearby, sipping on a drink, in a heroic pose she’s definitely not holding at the moment. 93 looks again, comparing the real pony with the painting.

And sucking in her gut.

“Whoah! You’re a super high rank,” 65536 salutes.

“Easy, 65536,” 93 looks at the drone, “We’re all here to relax.”

“All done. Miss!” 20100, after a quick shading of the painting’s hooves, calls out to the mare who walks over, levitates up the painting, and trots off with it after tossing five coins onto the pile under 20100’s stool.

93 steps in front of the canvas, and strikes a pose with a puffed out chest. Immediately, the next pony in line, an earth pony on the heavy side, huffs indignantly:

“Hey, hey, hey, changeling! No preferential treatment. You gotta wait in the line like everypony else!” before 93 can say anything, he pushes past her and points at 20100, “You, ten- five bits if you paint me holding a sword and standing on my back hooves! Low-angle side view. And add abs. Six pack- no, twelve pack.”

“Sorry,” 20100 shakes its head, “I can’t add any stuff yet. I’ll try to learn that soon, but for now I can only copy what I see. Just pull out your slashy and hold the pose for a moment, I’ll have a good look, and then I’ll get painting.”

“Acceptable!” the chubby earth pony, who likely hasn’t seen any sort of muscles even in a documentary, holds up a heavily decorated blade while trembling in an attempt to stay upright and epic as 20100 looks at him from various angles.

“Oookay, that’s enough,” 20100 jumps backwards as the pony slams down, gasping for air, sweating, and jiggling, “I’ll get right on it,” once it climbs back onto the borrowed bar stool, it looks at 93, ”Sorry, did you need anything? We’re kinda busy here.”

“No, I was just curious,” 93 shakes her head, “I’ll leave you to it.”

“Take a shiny if you want!” 20100 points to the pile of gold, “Did you know you can trade those for sweet cream that makes your noggin hurt, but in a good way? That, or a fizzy drink that comes out of your nose! Or a bunch of other things!”

The corner of 93’s mouth curls up.

“No. You earned those bits. Do with them what you will,” she heads off.

Author's Note

Nearly done with day 2.
Error 404: Plot still not found.

Day 2 - Points: 9/9

Night drapes its cool embrace over the cruise ship, and the drones answer 387’s mental call, summoning them towards the front end of the ship where a stage is being set up for the light show. Faced with the warrior, the drones fan out with 10013 and Smiley in the middle and 36658 and 99111 decidedly as far away from each other as possible.

“Alright,” begins 387, “Today’s been pretty eventful and I’ve been trying to keep up with what’s been happening but I had my own business to take care of. So, before the light show begins, let’s polish off any remaining point additions or subtractions.”

He counts off every drone one by one:

“10013 - decidedly neutral, I see. No love gained, no presence anywhere, and I see that 20100 refilled your love before we started. No points to allocate in either direction then. Was there anything useful about the lectures?”

“It was interesting, but I’m not sure how useful it would be for any of us,” admits 10013, “I have a bunch of stories to tell the guys back home, at least.”

“You never know when knowledge can turn into a weapon,” 387 offers at least words of comfort while rummaging through the head of the next drone, “20100 - you earned… three hundred and sixty bits by painting artworks that would normally gain the artist a lifetime of wealth, security, and prestige. On one hole, I’m decidedly impressed. On the other, I can’t help being pissed off about the wasted potential.”

“If you want some shinies, you can have them,” offers 20100, “We traded some of them for various things to eat or drink but eventually 99526 got sick. Oh, and one griffon lady said she’d show both of us some proper loving and a really good time for fifty, but I had to drag 99526 off because it was kinda… spewing at the time, so I told her that maybe later.”

387 wipes his forehead in relief.

“You know what? Plus four points. One for not needing a refill, one for refilling others, one for the extra bits, and one for, umm, maintaining a good image by not buying a griffon… escort, and I’m being exceedingly polite here.”

“So many points!” 20100 clamps its forelegs over its mouth.

“Next up - 36658, you were pretty quiet all day,” 387 looks at the next drone in order.

“I was doing drugs all day!”

387 furrows his brows as he digs into the drone’s head.

“I think you meant making dr- no… you didn’t,” the warrior frowns, “I’m not sure how I feel about you being some zebra’s test subject.”

“It was for a good cause,” 36658 stares directly into his eyes with an expression of firm determination which genuinely surprises the warrior, “Feel free to check my head in detail. Miss Gem didn’t abuse me or anything, if you’re worried about that, and I’m completely full of love too.”

“Hmm,” 387 makes a mental note to spare some attention for the zebra chemist later, “I suppose that if you’re healthy, don’t need a refill, and didn’t get into any trouble, plus you helped with medical research, you can get two points overall.”

36658 only nods.

“99111, our little religious rebel,” 387 snickers, “Spent most of the day exploring and then fixing a door. You managed to get a refill, which is plus one, so it’s plus two overall for that and the help.”

“I learned how bucking plywood door and stupid cheap shitty locks work,” 99111 smiles happily, prompting 387’s raised eyebrow. After a brief mind scan, the warrior says:

“I’ll just clear things up and say that those are not the technical terms for those particular items, no matter what that blue scam artist said,” the warrior mentally shares the barest details about pony swearing with 99111, none of which involves the word goop.

“GASP!” 99111’s eyes go wide. One day, someone will explain the concept of onomatopoeia to the drones, but today is not the day and 387 isn’t that someone, “She lied to me! I specifically asked about that because I didn’t know what that meant. Grumblegrumblegrumble-”

“Aaand mystery solved,” 387 leaves the pouting drone repeating ‘grumble’ with forelegs crossed on its chest, and moves on to the next, “99380, the queen wanted me to give you two points.”

“YAAAY!” 99380 throws its forelegs into the air for a brief moment before going quiet and simply staring at 387 in case there’s more to say.

“It seems she appreciated your radio broadcast. Unfortunately for you, you still needed refilling, so it’s only the plus two.”

“I made a changeling friend!” says 99380, “Its rank is 65536.”

“The hero of soup!” 20100 salutes the empty air. 10013 and 36658 answer with the same gesture.

“Yup! I really liked that title,” agrees 99380.

“99526,” 387 speaks out again, and the drone watching ponies trot around the finished light show stage looks at him, “You’re on zero. You didn’t need a refill, but throwing up all over the place in front of creatures from all around Equestria was definitely a bad impression on us all, so overall it’s plus one minus one.”

“Ponies have so many delicious things…” 99526 mumbles, “But 20100 didn’t bloat up as badly and it ate the same stuff I did.”

“Sorry, buddy,” 20100 frowns but pats the other drone’s head, “Maybe something just didn’t sit well with you. Think of it this way - you’re probably closer to figuring out what your goop does!”

That gives 387 a pause.

“99526, did you notice any special feature of your secretions?”

“There was a lot!” replies the drone, “But no, nothing special. It was goop, it hardened quickly, it was green. Nothing anyone else can’t do,” it shrugs.

“No refill, huge increase in produced mass in contrast to intake,” 387 taps his hoof on the floor, “You should do some more careful testing tomorrow as well. It could be that your specialty is producing in volume rather than adding some specific quality. Since 20100’s offering, I suggest you use some of the bits it made.”

“Can I get the brown sweets this time?” asks 99526.

“I have no idea what you’re referring to but I assume so.”

“Can we go see that griffon lady about that good time?”

“No.”

“But the sweets cost only one shiny, and she offered a good time with her for fifty. How much better would that be-”

“NO!”

“Okay,” 99526 shrugs. No point in arguing, orders are orders, “I’m just wondering what she meant.”

“Don’t! Look, the light show is starting,” 387 points towards the stage where Trixie set up a spotlight aiming at the sky and is now testing if everything works, “Sit here until the end and enjoy it. Afterwards, I think you should return to your cabins and go to sleep. It would be good to adopt the pony night and day cycle while we’re on this trip.”

10013: 0

20100: 4

36658: 2

99111: 2

99380: 3

99526: 0

Smiley: :-) :-) :-) :-) :-)

“Can I get happy stickers like Smiley has?” asks 99380.

“No, and holes if I know how it did it. Either learn to manipulate the hive mind or stick to numbers,” replies the warrior.

“Hnnngh-” 99380 grunts, closing its eyes.

99380: (^_^) (O_O) (X_x)

“-eep?! Go back! Go back!” the puzzled drone looks around, unsure what to think of anything, “387, help! My score is being weird.”

387 smacks 99380’s head, having had just enough drone interaction for the night.

99380: 3

“Phew! Thanks,” 99380 lets out a sigh of relief.

Fully aware that the light show will in reality be starting in twenty minutes, the warrior leaves, knowing that the drones won’t move and disobey the orders. He quickly locates Chrysalis and 93 on the mental map, the former is sitting in a hot tub being served champagne by a unicorn stallion and the latter…

…is in some glass-walled bar inside the ship, holding a hoofful of cards while sitting behind a table with two other stallions and a griffon. Judging by the small amount of colorful chips with 1 written on them on the table as well as multiple empty shot glasses, it must be a friendly game or a practice. 387 smirks to himself, uses every trick he learned over his exceedingly long life to cover his mental presence, transforms into a pegasus, and heads downstairs 93’s way.

I didn’t make any progress figuring out what Chrysalis’ deal is, but we’re not being chased around with torches and pitchforks, so that counts for something. This, though, looks like a good opportunity to measure how quick thinking this new top-ranked infiltrator is.

Finally, day two ends with one ancient warrior and one newborn infiltrator facing each other, but for the first time in generations, their battleground is just a card table.

Author's Note

Aaaand day 2 is done. I don't have much to say, so just thanks for sticking around.

Day 3 - Storm: 1/11

The walls of the surrounding tunnel are a mix of black and dark purple, the whole thing is barely big enough to stand in, and it’s lit by tiny white, red, and yellow dots. A chill runs down 10013’s spine as the terrifying certainty of where it is washes over it.

This can’t be real.

It looks around, and finds the worried face of Smiley behind itself.

No no no no!

Somehow, 10013 knows what’s about to happen, and the second it crosses its mind, the walls of the tunnel start crumbling.

“RUN!” screams 10013, and bolts ahead.

Unfortunately, while the tunnel is the right size for a drone, Smiley’s slightly bigger size makes it more difficult to move while hunched up. 10013’s blind panic wins, though, and it doesn’t look at Smiley’s progress, not until its mind catches a mental image of-

*Sad, betrayed face*

-which flickers only for the barest second before 10013 hears a painfully real:

*Crunch!*

10013 finally looks back just as the collapsing, strangely fleshy tunnel devours Smiley, leaving behind only a foreleg desperately reaching for 10013 which drops on the floor. The collapse stops, and so does 10013.

“I’m sorry, Smiley… I’m not 9999,” sobs 10013, “I can’t… I couldn’t…” it grabs the foreleg, cradling it in its hooves, “I’m not High Score! You want too much.”

The tunnel comes to life again, its starry walls wobbling and melting. 10013 scrambles to all fours, dropping Smiley’s leg over which the tunnel pours in its pursuit of 10013 immediately.

9999 wouldn’t let a friend- no, any drone die, and you are fleeing like a coward.

10013’s hooves sink into the floor of the tunnel turning into starry quicksand, and it takes so much effort to take pace after pace. It’s clear how this is going to end, and the familiar heavy weight and following agony of a tunnel collapsing on its back lights 10013’s nerves, leaving behind only the clear knowledge that:

I’m not good enough.

Finally, the darkness takes away both the endless agony of the slow crushing and the weight of 10013’s self-admitted inadequacy.

***

Gasping for breath, its chitin somehow covered in sweat, and wincing at the pain of the phantom crushing, 10013 finds itself standing on all fours inside the hive mind waiting room. The familiar silver lines marking the otherwise invisible floor set against the pitch blackness of the place slowly wash away the… memory?

“...what happened…?” breathes out 10013, still haunted by the recent experience.

A soft laughter of a voice, no details of which 10013 can identify, wraps around the drone like a warm and comfortable blanket.

“You can rest now, little drone. The nightmare is over,” says the voice. Does it belong to a stallion? Mare? 10013 has no idea.

“Nightmare?” breathes out 10013, now worried even more by the unidentifiable intrusion inside its mind, “What… what’s that?”

The voice giggles, melting a little bit of 10013’s tension away.

“Dreaming is just a way your brain disseminates past events. If those events are troubling, it can turn into a nightmare like the one I sensed from you. Don’t worry too much, none of what you saw or experienced was real, although whatever triggered it seemed to weigh on you rather heavily.”

“I…” 10013 finally sits down with a deep sigh, “I’m responsible for what the others do. I gotta know what’s right and what’s wrong, but I’m not 9999, I’m just another drone. Yeah, rank 10013, but what does that even matter? I’m a tiny bit faster, stronger, maybe smarter? The difference of rank between us drones is insignificant. I’m older, sure, but most of my life I’ve been digging tunnels just like everyone,” 10013 shakes its head, “387 expects me to do well, to make sure the others don’t cause trouble for the hive, but I have no clue how anything they’re doing might turn out. Do I tell 36658 to stop giving others drugs just in case it might, I don’t know, harm them somehow, because it never tested them on ponies? Do I tell 20100 to charge more for its paintings because, according to what I understood from 387, they’re worth so much more? Do I order 99111 to make up with 36658, forget their issues, and focus on working for the hive? They would obey right now, but it would just be putting off problems for later,” 10013 lies down and covers its head with its forelegs, “We’re not hungry anymore, we’re not under threat from high ranks, we’re not even in any real danger from the outside, and I can’t figure out how to solve even the simplest problems! 9999 led us back during the old days when we were starving, when high ranks were looking for any slip-up to eat us, and when ponies were either actively hunting us down or would do that if they knew what we were. I-”

An equine shadow somehow visible in the darkness of the hive mind and bearing physical weight falls over 10013, but instead of a threat, it brings warmth. Just like with the voice itself, 10013 can’t make out any real details as the shadow lies down next to it, wraps its much larger body around the drone, and whispers into its ear:

“I know how it feels to grow up as a microscopic speck in the shadow of someone incredible. Many incredible creatures, in fact. And yet, I panicked the first time I had a nightmare as well. I thought my dad was torn apart and I was left all alone. Wailing and trailing snot all over the place, I stomped over my mother’s face and felt so silly when my dad woke up, unharmed and absolutely okay. It made me realize my fears - I was small, helpless, in a dangerous world, and the only lifeline I had were those around me. Your fear, clearly, is failing to live up to the example of your hero and, like any fear, the first step to dealing with it is understanding it.”

“I’m not 9999…” mumbles 10013 mournfully.

“Clearly not, you’re a whole bunch of different digits, and more of them, too,” the shadow chuckles, and the verbal jab makes 10013 look up with a scrunched pout which earns it a soft boop on the nose, “Perseverance is the key to success, 10013, even though such success might be completely different from what you imagined. As long as you don’t give up, there will be a path. Maybe a difficult one, maybe one barely even worth the effort, but it will be there. You are not 9999, you confusing little math problem, you are yourself, and I don’t doubt you have your own path to tread.”

“I wish I knew it would be enough…”

“You wanna know a secret? Like a really important one?”

“Mhm.”

“No one ever does, and if someone tells you otherwise they’re lying or uninformed.”

“You mean… that I just-” 10013’s face turns incredulous.

“Wing it? Yep.”

“But what if I screw up?”

“Then next time you wing it better.”

“What if someone gets hurt?!”

“Then next time maybe you plan to split the risk so that you take the brunt of it, and then you wing it better.”

10013’s jaw drops.

“Like High Score did with Smiley…” it blinks repeatedly in realization, “It knew the pair with Smiley would be the most volatile one, that they might need more time for explanations in case things went wrong. But… but in the end 9999 died anyway.”

“Death is something not even the best of us can avoid forever,” the shadow plants a soft kiss on the back 10013’s head, “My best advice is to take what you get and try to leave behind as much good as you can, because you can’t know how what you do will turn out in the end. I doubt even your friend 9999 had any idea its passing would leave such an empty hole inside you, and not only you.”

For the first time since the drone conflict started, 10013 smiles a genuine smile.

“That's very drone-like thinking! Are you the Great Shiny? The Great Shiny that made 9999 the one and only High Score would know proper droning.”

“I’m not. I’m just… me,” replies the shadow, rising up, circling around, and finally vanishing with: “Wake up, 10013.”

With a jolt, 10013 opens its eyes.

The cabin feels heavy, hot, and stale, like inside the egg storage caverns back home. 36658 groans in its sleep, stuck in a hammock across the cabin from it and leaning against 20100 who is quietly snoring, seemingly without any kind of worries.

Despite it being deep into pony sleepy time, 10013 quietly guides its legs through the webbing, leaves the cabin, and heads upstairs for some fresh air.

***

“Y’know yer a neish buggo…” 93 slurs her words hard as she’s half hanging from 387’s side.

“You already said that. Three times, if I remember correctly,” the warrior replies, half in amusement and half in disbelief.

“Para- Parrot- Parry- noid but neish deep down. Laik an egg… all hard on top, buh when ya crack ya go blub blub blub…” 93 simply follows 387’s guidance for a moment before adding, “Meiks sens the Queen likes yoo.”

“Chrysalis likes me? Heh, I’m afraid that’s impossible for so many reasons.”

“Yoo still got yer silly head,” 93 bonks 387’s head using the foreleg she’s hanging on him with, “Hee hee hee.”

“I’m pretty sure she just needs me alive for whatever her plan is,” 387 steers the conversation. Perhaps, in this state, 93 might inadvertently give a hint regarding Chrysalis’ goal.

“Ooooh, her big plan,” 93 tries to spookily wave her forelegs, which in her current position is only possible with 387 grunting under her sudden surprising full weight, “I dun laik her plan…” she grumbles, “Izz weird.”

“But what is it? Why bring the drones?”

“Cuz ev’n dey know how ta have fun better den meee!” 93 grabs 387’s neck with both forelegs and starts quietly weeping into his carapace.

That’s… not what 387 expected. Either 93 is a better actor than he can even recognize, which isn’t a long shot for an infiltrator, or she simply really doesn’t know. Even so, he expected something more complex than this complete nonsense.

“Fun?” is all he can say.

“She said ta find sumfin I enjoy,” sobs 93, “Ta try things!” she drops from 387 and drunkenly stumbles forward through the corridor, “Yoo w’rriers got it easy. Yoo just… stand sumwhere all day… and punsh ev’rything dat goes where… it shouldn’t!” she grumbles, swings her foreleg in a mock punch at the air, and falls over, faceplanting into the carpet, “Halp!” she mumbles, “Ah promish I won’t… bash worriers… ‘nymore…”

387 stares.

93 starts snoring.

387 sighs.

“That’s just what we need, a wasted changeling seen sleeping in the hallway,” he grumbles, “On the other hole, anyone still up at this time of night will be on the verge of blacking out too.”

Loading the sack of potatoes currently known as 93 on his back, he tries to enter the infiltrator’s mind. To his surprise, there are only the most basic infiltrator defenses completely unfitting for a rank 93 in the way, which even he can bypass and get to-

“Ughh…” he fights off a bout of nausea at touching the completely sloshed mind of 93.

Reading it is out of the question in such a state. Was this her plan? To get drunk and thus be protected against him? Why would she need it?

Is there… even the tiniest chance… that 93 just wanted to play cards… and get drunk? No, holes no. She’s an infiltrator ranked 93. The top hundred have always been special and she’s the ONLY one whom Chrysalis ranked like that since the invasion. She is the top rank alive. This is all a plan.

Alright, so she’s drunk but it’s calculated. If I leave her here, Chrysalis will know about it and use it against me the next time the real hive needs anything. Is 93 just pretending to be drunk to see what I’ll do? A rank 93 would be able to simulate drunkenness.

93, in her sleep, lets out a loud, long burp smelling of an incredible mix of alcohol that would probably slay anything that’s not a dragon or an alicorn. That’s not fake, 387 has been there all along, playing cards with her and swapping patrons from all delegations, listening to any useful secret or a rumor, and seeing 93 get less and less coherent as the night dragged on.

Finally, 387 enters their suite and drops 93 on her bed. Sniffing the air, he grimaces.

“Do I switch my nose off, or-” he muses, leaving the cabin and locking it behind himself, “maybe I should spend the night with the drones?”

A quick mental check reveals that, with the exception of 10013 who is asleep on the top deck for some reason, all drones are split between the two cabins as expected.

“Number two it is then,” he mutters, heading downstairs to the deck where the servant quarters are.

As he reaches for the handle of the ‘fanatic’ cabin, choosing that group only out of faint familiarity with them instead of the newborns, a backwash of a mental scream of pure agony washes over him. The sleeping drones wouldn’t sense it, only someone constantly monitoring the hive network would, but it would hit hard.

Before his brain catches up, his legs are already carrying him back towards the stairs.

The scream came from Chrysalis, of all changelings.

Author's Note

Dun Dun Dunnn!

Day 3 - Storm: 2/11

“Oof,” 65536 limps through the cruise ship, a heavy-looking backpack completely covering its back, “That was some proper pumping. Totally like a warrior!” it beams, stops, flexes its foreleg, and as it steps forward again, it winces, “Ouch ouch ouch, hoofsies hurt now. I shouldn’t go that hard on that sandbag next time, but that minotaur kept yelling and yelling super inspiring things...”

65536 pauses for a moment.

“He sure did a lot of yelling and not that much lifting, come to think of it. No matter, someone with such a cool name like Iron Will is bound to know his stuff. Hmm, that is similar to what Commander Sharp Biscuit used to say about willpower and perseverance being the key to everything, the first step. Willpower, willpower, willp-” 65536 stops, sensing a presence in front of it before noticing the looming shadow on the carpet, “Oh, hello, Your Cupholderness!” it looks up at Chrysalis staring at the exhausted drone from her height, and salutes.

“And what are you doing up this late?” asks Chrysalis in a pleasant tone. 65536 senses a tingle behind its left temple which makes its ear twitch.

“It’s not that late for me. I usually work at this time of night anyway,” it shakes its head, “This is supposed to be a vacation, but I can’t get all lazy, so I was at the gym. Pumping iron in the fortress of swolitude, as Iron Will called it,” 65536 grins, sits down, and raises both forelegs to flex them and show Chrysalis, “Don’t worry, I keep myself in shape so that I represent us changelings in the best light possible. I even heard that the Royal Guard is looking for a changeling as a test run, so it must be working. I mean, if even the Paladins accepted Ten, and those guys were extra mean about the time when Grandmaster Beacon got crushed under a mountain, then the Royal Guard was just a matter of time.”

“Ah… Ten, sure,” Chrysalis sneers, “I’ll have to pay him a visit later. Now, believe it or not, I was looking for you specifically.”

“Neat,” 65536’s eyes light up, “You want a hug? Luna says I’m the best hugger! I even have my own Nightguard rank - Cuddler First Class, but officially I’m a private. I work in public, though, so that means I’m a double agent, or that it’s my secret identity,” 65536 rubs its head, “I’m still not sure about that. Those spy movies Miss Gloom likes get confusing sometimes.”

Chrysalis’ eye twitches almost imperceptibly.

“This is about you being close to the dream alicorn, yes,” she says in a controlled tone, “I need to look inside your head, 65536.”

“No can do, Your Majesty,” 65536 puffs out its chest officially, “Luna said to not let you do that specifically, and she was all princessy at the time, so it’s an official order. You can just ask, though. I’ll be happy to help.”

“That’s the problem. You’d have no idea what I’m even asking or looking for. Even I’m not sure myself- you didn’t hear me say that, understood?”

“Say what?” 65536 slams its hooves against its ears, “Is anyone talking? I’m aaaaall alone here.”

“Enough!” Chrysalis rolls her eyes, “Let me look inside your head. I can sense barriers there that can’t be your doing, and the only reason I haven’t broken through yet is because I don’t want… a diplomatic incident.”

“As I said, no can do,” 65536 shakes its head, “The orderiest of orders.”

“If you don’t let me, I won’t let you into the hive this winter to give presents to the drones.”

65536 gasps in pure horror.

“THAT WOULD BE SO MEAN!” it wibbles at her.

Chrysalis’ suddenly finds it difficult to breathe under that most unholy of drone powers, and backs off.

“I… guess it would be too much,” she admits, “See? I’m not evil anymore. Now let me in!” she leans close, fangs bared and growling.

“I can’t,” pleads 65536, “You were right, I didn’t make any protection thingies in my head, that’s standard guard stuff these days. I can only show you my memories from, umm, an hour ago at most, I think.”

Surprisingly, Chrysalis smiles.

“Alright, let’s do that.”

“Then go ahead,” 65536 nods, “I think it’ll work. As far as I know I don’t need to do anything extra.”

Even before it’s done talking, it can feel a presence inside its head. Its mental skills would never be good enough to identify or much less repel an intruder like her, but with proper training 65536 learned how to at least tell that something is happening even when attacked by a vastly superior enemy. So far, there’s only been one changeling whom 65536 couldn’t sense no matter what, and Chrysalis is certainly not the next one.

Chrysalis, however, has no intention of stopping at or even checking 65536 last hour at the gym. She pushes further.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” 65536 warns her.

“Don’t you dare tell me what I can-”

The lights of the hallway flicker and die out, which is followed by something akin to crackling of electricity filling the air and, without any visual clue, Chrysalis getting punted into the ceiling and falling down.

A see-through image of Princess Luna lights up the darkness, rising up from a boiling black cloud suddenly bursting into existence in front of Chrysalis.

“I was expecting that you wouldn’t keep your hooves to yourself, cockroach,” hisses Luna’s simulacrum, watching Chrysalis twitch on the floor, “65536, kick her so that we know she’s conscious,” 65536 walks over and lightly pats Chrysalis behind her ears. The Queen shakes her head and unsteadily gets up on all fours, eyes crossed, “Good. Now let me make myself clear here - this was the warning setting. If you try this again, it will hurt you. And if you are stupid enough to try for the third time…” Luna pauses, “I invite you to consider the following - I’ve lived for thousands of your lifetimes. I’ve seen the rise and fall of species whose minds you can’t imitate or even imagine. Finally, I am in the top three of living magic users and I don’t particularly concern myself with political consequences. Let that sink in.”

Luna fades and lights turn back on.

65536 sighs, approaches Chrysalis, and hugs her leg.

“I can feel that you need some love after that,” it says, letting warmth flow from itself into the Queen who...

…chuckles.

“Silly pony,” she croaks next, “She didn’t even… realize I already… stripped her… protection… heh heh heh.”

“Your Chitinousness, come on…” 65536 lets go of her leg and backs off, “You just said you weren’t evil anymore.”

“I’m not evil, I’m just unstoppably curious!” Chrysalis rises up to her full, haughty and powerful height, and 65536 feels her presence inside its mind again.

There’s no warning this time, no noise, and no smell of ozone. Chrysalis’ mental presence simply disappears as the Queen seizes up, her eyes roll back so far that only the whites are visible, and she keels over to the side, solid as a rock.

65536 pokes the now completely motionless Queen pile on the carpet.

“Queen?” it asks again, “I know you’re not okay, I can see that, but you didn’t somehow trigger the really bad protection, did you? Uhhh…”

“Step away from her!” says an extremely dangerous voice from the staircase behind the drone. 65536 turns around and sighs.

“Hi, 387,” it says in that higher-pitched, tired voice one uses when they know they’ll have to explain something again, “Could you please carry the Queen off before anyone sees her and starts some weird rumor?”

“Explain, now!” 387 approaches quickly but carefully, his eyes never leaving 65536.

It’s a drone, but a drone who knows combat to a degree, which means it can ‘dig’ and fight. Chrysalis’ body looks physically okay, so the attack was purely mental, which also means it might not even be 65536 but someone controlling it.

“Princess Luna put a protective spell into my head which makes terrible things happen to anyone trying to read it,” summarizes 65536, “I can willingly show you past hour and you won’t get hurt if you want.”

387 senses an open hive link, harmless and unprotected, hoping that his unique mind will let him disconnect if he senses danger. As he almost instantly lives through the recent minutes, he reaches the mental equivalent of an electrified fence overlooking a moat with alligators somehow armed with cannons on their backs which blocks his progress further into 65536’s mind.

Oh… I see…

Chrysalis definitely KNEW what she was getting into.

387 disconnects and facehoofs.

“She just couldn’t control herself around you, did she?” he asks.

“Luna suspected that,” 65563 nods sadly, “I wish she at least told me what she wanted to know,” the drone waves its forelegs, “This way I have no idea if I even know what she thought I knew.”

387 loads the second changeling bag of potatoes tonight on his back, although this one is significantly heavier.

“65536, I know I have no authority over you anymore, but can you do me, and the whole hive, a favor?”

“It depends, but sure if I can.”

“Don’t tell anyone about this,” 387 hangs his head low with a drawn out sigh, “You know best how ponies still see us, and if any rumor about Chrysalis assaulting a Nightguard spreads…” he lets the sentence hang.

“I gotta tell Miss Gem, and Luna already knows because her spell triggered.”

“Holes damn it!” growls 387.

“But Miss Gem is super nice, and I can ask Luna to let it go. I’m okay and that’s all that matters. I’ll promise her a good massage if she does so, and that always works. Since I don’t have to write a report because I’m off-duty, no one else will know, right?” 65536 tilts its head with a peaceful smile.

“Thanks,” 387 pats 65536’s head, “Can I give you some love or something as an apology for Her Dumbfuckness here?”

“Nah, I’m fine,” 65536 shakes its head, “I’m physically exhausted rather than empty because I did all my pushies, pullies, bendies, and curlies. I’m trying to get my body to adapt naturally. Miss Gem said it worked for changelings too and that I would need less love later to do all that.”

“Are you coming the same way?” asks 387 after nodding towards the stairs, “93 and I have the hoofmaiden suite next to hers.”

“Yup,” 65536 nods, lifting up its heavy gym bag again and starting to stroll next to 387, “I’m in ours with Miss Gem.”

“Who is she anyway? Some Canterlot dignitary?”

“She’s just a zebra alchemist.”

“You’re lying,” says 387 with absolute certainty. 65536 might be a Nightguard drone, but it’s still a drone, and goodie-two-horseshoes one at that.

“All I’m allowed to say is that she’s just a zebra alchemist,” 65536 corrects itself, “And please don’t try to get into my head, I don’t think I’ve been lifting enough to carry both you and Her Majesty at the same time.”

“...why can’t this really just be a vacation…?” moans 387, “You know, just some relaxation, hot tubs, beaches, sun.”

“Umm,” 65536 rubs its head, “Is it not? I’m not supposed to be doing anything guardy. I’m not even sure if doing all my gym stuff is allowed, but I don’t want to be all out of practice when we get back. And there’s supposed to be a whole bunch of beaches in the resort where we’ll land. I heard you’re allowed to make huge holes there and build whole castles! Can you imagine how much of a beach there has to be?” it finishes, wide-eyed.

387 walks the final short stretch towards Chrysalis’ suite before testing the handle which gives in and the door opens.

She must have sensed 65536 nearby and rushed out… which is exactly the level of planning I learned to expect from her, so why am I having so much trouble figuring out her real goal?!

The warrior doesn’t let his frustration show this time, and simply scratches 65536 behind the ear, smiling as the drone leans into the touch.

“Have a good night, 65536. You’re making the hive proud.”

The drone beams.

“Good night to you too, 387. From what I heard, you’re making all drones safer and happier and… that’s hard to find down in the tunnels.”

They each go their own way, 65536 heading further down the hall to its cabin, and 387 into Chrysalis’ royal suite.

Chrysalis doesn’t wake up when 387 lobs her on the bed with a mix of anger and irritation. About to leave immediately after, the warrior pauses with his hoof on the handle.

I’m not supposed to be here. Even 93 was here only on Chrysalis’ orders.

It could be just because of Chrysalis’ need to feel superior, or it could be because she’s hiding something.

What did she bring with her? I doubt she had a contact here on the ship who would bring her something crucial to her plan. Can’t rule it out, though.

Books, and a rather eclectic collection of those on top.

“Ancient Civilizations”, “Native Cults and Myths”, “Disappearance of the Dwarves”-

387 raises an eyebrow as he looks at the final book of the stack.

-”Daring Do and the Heart of Fire”. What in all holes? Do these have something in common? There’s no world in which her main reason for leaving the hive was to get some uninterrupted reading time.

The next bag contains rolled-up issues of various Crystal Empire newspapers, the newest quite recent and the oldest from almost two years ago, but without any clear indication of what else could be connecting them. Eventually, Chrysalis shifts on the bed, which is 387’s cue to leave before she regains consciousness, no smarter than before.

***

Once again, 387 finds himself about to open the door of a drone cabin, when he hears hoofsteps. To a changeling with mission experience, hoofsteps are a language in themselves, and these don’t say “I’m a security pony and I have full right to be here.”, they say “I don’t want to alert any security pony who has the full right to be here.”, and that’s enough to pique 387’s curiosity. Still, it could be a cruise guest unwilling to make noise this late at night, but in that case they probably wouldn’t be going down to the staff deck. It could be a staff member, although from what 387 observed so far, they need to wake up early, so now, at nearly three in the morning, wouldn’t be the best time to be awake.

387 follows.

There could be so many innocent reasons…

…so why did the exact steps have to keep going down to the maintenance deck?

387 catches the view of a round, striped butt for a brief second from the top of the stairs before it disappears into the maintenance tunnels.

That wasn’t a warrior’s butt, so it’s not 1313’s bodyguard. That was a butt an infiltrator would grow to attract prey, and the only one I saw over the past two days who fits that description was this… Gem. Holes damn it, 65536! You’re making it really hard to trust you with your alicorn magic mind block and secret zebra alchemist sneaking into a restricted area at night.

In absolute silence, 387 enters the narrow and pitch black corridor filled with groaning pipes and hissing hydraulics.

He freezes. There is absolute silence if one filters out the mechanical noises.

Checking his recent memories, he realizes he didn’t hear her open the maintenance door, she didn’t close the door behind her, and he can’t hear her hoofsteps anymore.

She knows about him. Does she know he can see just fine in the darkness? Can she? Zebra potions can do crazy things, he heard.

387 enhances his hearing, and his reward is hearing only the faintest breathing in an alcove a short distance away. He starts recording his memories into the hive mind. No matter what happens to him, even if someone gets into his own head, it won’t matter.

He starts walking again, ready to fight, and pounces towards the alcove.

He hears a quiet-

“...boop…!”

-followed by a complete loss of control over his body as the smiling zebra pokes his muzzle with her strangely sweet-smelling hoof and he collapses on the floor, eyes closing.

Day 3 - Storm: 3/11

Flinching, Smiley wakes up.

*Weird face!!!*

Unlike the other drones hanging from the hammocks, Smiley’s head is peeking out of the top-opened wardrobe where the Silent is curled up, its chin propped against the edge. Something is wrong in a way the Silent has never felt before.

*Spooked face.* *Curious face?* *Curious face!*

After a brief pause during which the strangeness doesn’t subside, Smiley’s curiosity wins over its fear, mostly because its experiences in and on this weird, big, floating box filled with soft tunnels have so far been positive.

*FLASH!*

The sudden blast of white light changes the situation immediately, making Smiley retract its head into the wardrobe and in one full-body spin roll under the first of the folded sheets. When no imminent threat follows, Smiley peeks out again. Where did that bright light come from?

It waits, ears perked. None of the others are awake, although 10013 is missing.

*Cuuurious faaa-*

*FLASH!*

*Brave face!*

The blinding flash came from the magic hole in the wall that’s now covered with… small, see-through blobs slowly moving from the top to bottom.

Finally having caught what’s happening, Smiley crawls out of the wardrobe and hops down on the floor where its inner ear goes haywire again. Uncoordinatedly stumbling from side to side, Smiley can’t catch a break until its wings win over its confused head and carry the Silent into the air where the weirdness stops.

Floating over, Smiley presses its muzzle against the unidentified magic hole which, indeed, is a window. When that doesn’t seem to faze the blobs steadily crawling down, Smiley carefully puts its hooves on the table itself, making the weirdness return.

The ground is moving. Not like when a tunnel starts crumbling under its hooves, rather a slow, soft, steady, side-to-side motion, much easier to sense here on the wooden floor than inside the pile of soft blankets. For a Silent used only to the most solid floor of underground tunnels, with one traumatic exception that makes all nice smileys go away whenever it recalls it, this is completely unique and confusing as all holes.

There are two ways to go about this. Either it can crawl back into the safe and soft box-

*Extremely tempted face.*

-or it could do what the best number would do - figure out what’s going on in case there’s trouble on the way that could affect everyone.

*Sad face.* *Panicked face.* *Relieved face.* *Sad but determined face.*

Smiley walks to the door slowly, gradually getting used to the soft swaying of the entire world, and when things finally become bearable it leaves. The wide corridor, in contrast to the cabin, is filled with constant hissing that definitely wasn’t there at any point before now.

*Spooked face!*

A distorted rumble comes from upstairs, making Smiley jump on the spot. It wants to go back so much. Every instinct in its limited mind is screaming at it to escape from the unknown and danger.

It doesn’t do that. Best number wouldn’t do that.

*Wibble.*

The repeated rumbling and the constant hissing grows closer and louder as Smiley ascends the nearest stairs all the way up to the door to the main deck. The only positive side of its current situation is that 10013’s mental presence on the other side is close enough for the Silent to sense and, for some reason, not overly bothered by everything going on. Spurred on by 10013’s closeness, Smiley cracks the door open before a blast of wind and noise makes it slam it shut immediately.

*WIBBLING FAAAAACE!*

“Smiley?” it hears 10013’s mental voice, “What’s going on?”

*Confusedfacescaredfacewibblefacesadfacebravefacescaredfacewiblewibblewibbleeee!*

“Thaaat’s a bit too much for me to decode, buddy,” 10013 sighs, “I can sense you, stay where you are.”

Thankful for clear orders, Smiley breathes out in relief, plops its butt in front of the metal door, and waits until it clicks and 10013, legs spread to avoid being blown away across the deck slippery with whipping rain and strong wind, opens it from the other side.

When Smiley whimpers due to another outburst of cold air, water, and loud noise, 10013 walks into the stairwell and closes the door to the deck. It looks down at the puddle of water streaming down its legs and shakes itself.

“The storm spooked you this badly, huh?” 10013 nuzzles the Silent’s neck, “Can’t blame you. I got caught in a storm twice and this one is muuuuuch worse than either of those, or both put together, because the water is making the ship wobble. You wanna come and see?”

*Spooked face?!*

“I… had this strange feeling I couldn’t get rid of that I had to face my fears after I woke up,” 10013 chuckles as Smiley gives it a horrified head tilt. Fears are to be run away from. Facing them normally makes one get munched, “I guess I felt like you’re feeling now. The trick is to start slow. I spent over an hour just sitting here with the door open and it sounds much worse than it really is. In fact, I kinda like it now. Hmm? How about that?” it cracks the door open just a tiny bit, “If it’s too bad, you can just head back.”

Smiley snaps its wide-open eyes away from the crack and at 10013 before sniffing towards the colder air getting through.

“Eeep?!” 10013 squeaks as Smiley suddenly bites down on the drone’s tiny tail stub, firmy but non threateningly, while sending a mental message of:

*Brave face!*

Unsure what this means, 10013 opts for some experimentation and moves forward. Smiley isn’t trying to pull it back and instead follows the gentle tug of the tail.

“Keep your legs spread. It’s slippery out there and the wind can get bursty,” the drone switches to speaking through the hive link as the storm takes its words hopelessly away from its mouth the moment it tries to speak.

*SPOOKED FACE!* *Crying face!*

Contrary to the overwhelming fear 10013 can sense from Smiley, the Silent keeps following it across the deck, pausing whenever they get behind any barrier shielding them from the gusts. There’s too much going on for Smiley to keep track of passing time, but eventually it follows 10013 up onto the highest point of the ship, which is the roof of some multi-story establishment covering the hind third of the ship marked in the hive mind as [Entertainment complex]. The spot is surrounded by a low wall forming a C around them and there are three chairs bolted to the floor under which the duo sit down. From here, if they look out of their cover, they can see the majority of the main deck as well as-

“Look,” whispers 10013, pointing into the distance behind the ship where a red dot is lighting up in regular intervals, “High Score sent you a shiny because you were so brave.”

Smiley, now curled up under the chair with 10013’s stub still in its mouth, finally lets go and follows 10013’s pointing hoof. The flashing red dot is tiny and also not alone. More familiar yellow light occasionally pierces the stormy darkness, the rain scattering it into a shiny corona.

*CRACKABOOOOOOM!*

Both Smiley and 10013 bolt instantly under the chairs and exchange glances as 10013 chuckles nervously and says:

“Thunderbolts and lightning are very very frightening.”

Smiley licks its nose. Emboldened, 10013 crawls out into the open again.

“You did well, buddy.”

*Happy face!* *Relieved face.*

“I can go back down with you, if you want-”

Smiley immediately squishes itself back against the covering wall, leaving only its head peeking out from under the chair.

“-ooor you can stay up here with me. It’s pretty warm up here despite the rain anyway,” 10013 pats the head on the floor next to it and rests its back against the legs of the chairs, watching the blinking lights in the distance.

Author's Note

Gem's plot thiccens.
Smiley boldly goes where one drone has gone before.
10013 is not the leader we need, but the one we deserve.
Get one drone free with every paperback copy of Imbalanced purchased on the black market.
I didn't write anything last week, I couldn't sleep, and I'm so tired.

Day 3 - Storm: 4/11

A powerful tremor rocks the ship.

“Haah?!” with a gasp, 99380 finds itself swinging in the upper left hammock, kicking its legs in the air. The three heretics are occupying a hammock each with one left empty for any potential visitor. 99111 would sleep alone since its spat with 36658 while 99526 wanted to sleep together with 99380 as usual but decided against it on the off chance it started throwing up again and took the hammock under 99380’s.

What’s going on?

A flash of lightning washes over the room and makes 99380 tremble. In short, 99380 goes through a similar set of storm-based stages of freakout that Smiley did, and in the end mentally reaches out for any help.

99111 - asleep. 99526 - asleep. 36658 - asleep. 20100 - asleep. 10013 - close enough to sense but too far to talk to. Smiley - the same. 387, 93, and the Queen - unreachable. 65536 - asleep. Unknown changeling - asleep.

10013 is responsible for us and everything is wrong and weird. 10013 is a smart drone. It’ll know if it’s okay to go to sleep again when everyone high up is missing.

Just like Smiley, 99380 stops at the top end of the stairwell and in front of the door to the main deck, listening to the repeated thunder strikes and dealing with the nausea caused by the strong waves shaking the ship.

How are Smiley and 10013 out there and how can they be sleeping? Are THEY okay? If they’re not okay, what can I do?

Gotta find the smart drone. Gotta find the smart drone.

99380 walks out on the deck and gets its legs immediately swept by the wind. It covers its head as it’s involuntarily rolled across the deck and slammed against the wall of the nearest bar.

“...ouch…” it hisses. 10013 seems to be on the roof of that big building covering the hind third of the ship. How did it get up there? There’s no way it flew in this insane wind. 99380 narrows its eyes and shields its face from the water with a hoof, “...ah, stairs on the sides.”

Several deep breaths later, it runs out of cover.

“AAAH?!”

A blast of wind knocks it backwards this time, followed by a disorienting lightning and thunder that makes the terrified drone reach in panic for anything to stop its slide. Suddenly, the ground disappears and 99380 finds itself falling.

It’s the central pool which, presumably, had been drained for the night is far from empty due to the ropes of water falling from the sky. 99380 splashes into the pool, and its squeak of panic gets drowned out by the rain, only serving for the water to get into the drone’s mouth.

Something sparks inside 99380’s head, and 99111’s experience with such a situation transfers into it at undronelike speed. Its wings immediately start buzzing, giving it a minor lift. The holes in its legs close up, and 99380 starts flapping its legs as hard as it can.

Somehow, it’s working. 99380 manages to get to the side of the pool and hook its fetlock on the ladder leading up. With all strength it can muster, it climbs back on the deck while not letting go of the ladder, unsure what happened to stop it from drowning like 99111 did. One mental touch of 10013 later, 99380 has to reconsider this entire operation. The wind is just way too strong.

What to do? What to do?

A familiar sight greets it in the form of the bar where 99380 spent last morning. It’s a simple G-shaped establishment - 3 walls and a counter. While its roof is shaking and the bar stools are gone, the walls are holding up just fine. 99380 grits its teeth, unhooks its hind leg from the metal top of the ladder, and rushes towards the bar counter. It slips on the wet deck again, but its momentum is enough to carry it forward into the small building itself. Now partially safe, 99380 admits defeat and crawls under the counter.

Lightning and thunder strike in perfect unison, making 99380 whimper and look around for a safer spot. Unfortunately, it only results in it spotting the radio cables leading from the roof towards a hole in a wardrobe under the counter that’s covered with thick tarp.

“Maybe the nice fuzzy lady will help,” it mutters, carefully inching towards the waterproofed wardrobe. Opening it reveals the radio on the shelf near the top with an empty basket occupying the rest of the space. Taking a deep breath, 99380 recalls what little it saw when 36658 and the bartender were using it, “It’s all about these turny thingies…” it reaches for the knobs on the front.

*Click!*

“Eep!”

“Kchrhrhrhchchhsh!” the radio starts hissing.

“Okay, okay, it’s scary but it doesn’t bite,” mumbles 99380, slowly turning the knob that isn’t making the hissing louder, “Eeeh… it can talk without a mouth so who can say it can’t bite without teeth?” it pats the radio just in case before resuming to turn the ‘not-volume turny’.

“-listening…” a faint voice grows audible over the sea of static and the storm itself, “-payload… island…”

“Huh?” 99380 presses its ear against the front of the radio, slowly finding out a vibrating membrane hidden behind solid metal mesh that seems to be the radio’s ‘mouth’. The drone’s listening reveals there to be two voices talking, but that’s about it. The fragmented word salad means nothing to it, but it still makes it feel less alone.

“-storm direction… whole day… cache…”

A set of numbers follows.

“Maybe they’re talking about changelings?” 99380 gets the brilliant idea to cover its other ear to shut off the outside noise. It barely helps, and only in it being easier to make out the occasional word that gets through the static.

“-until tomorrow… supplies… route…”

The words stop and don’t return within the next five minutes of 99380 patiently waiting.

“Awww,” pouts the drone and returns to fiddling with the frequency control until-

“Yaaay- OW!”

-it catches a quiet but consistent tune almost covered by the static but still audible, celebrates by rising up, and hits its head on the bottom of the bar counter. Satisfied with its current situation, 99380 crawls into the basket and closes the wardrobe from the inside. Curled up and safe in a dark and enclosed space, with the hissing of radio static and the underlying tune, 99380 almost feels like back home.

***

387 finds himself in a dark, enclosed space as well, although bent into a shape that would bring tears into the eyes of a yoga instructor. Whatever happened to him left him stuffed behind a layer of pipes lining the walls of the maintenance deck corridors.

“Ugh…” he breathes out, reviewing his memories on pure instinct even before his body fully wakes up.

Felt a scream, met 65536, dragged Chrysalis to her suite, discovered the books and newspapers… garbled mess… maintenance deck… garbled mess. Why did I go down here? HOW did I get down here? This place should have been locked.

As he searches the hive mind for his emergency black box recording, he pulls himself back into one of many alcoves lining the maintenance tunnels. When his head catches up, he freezes, his jaw drops, and he begins breathing heavily.

There’s nothing.

I KNOW I was recording what I was doing just in case anything happened to me and 93 or Chrysalis would need to act.

But there’s nothing no matter how hard he searches the local hive mind.

Don’t. Panic.

How can I not panic?! Whatever happened to me affected MY mind on a level that CHRYSALIS never managed to.

Okay, so… magic? Magic would explain wiping me, if by any chance I crossed a magic user with extensive knowledge of a changeling mind, but so far there hasn’t been a single report of any magic user ever successfully developing a way to control a collective construct like the hive mind. Besides, MY mind is drastically different from today’s changelings anyway.

He starts doing a series of stretches designed to show any deficiency in his physical form - bruises, pulled muscles, cracked carapace, anything that would indicate damage.

Nothing, so the memory loss wasn’t caused by a powerful blow. I can’t hear anything, smell anything, or see anything suspicious. If I didn’t know that I was following someone my only explanation would have been sleepwalking.

WHY do I still know I was following someone when everything else is gone?

Holes damn it!

The faintest flash of light makes 387 freeze. Soon, hoofsteps begin approaching, slowly but surely. The warrior isn’t skilled enough to shapeshift into invisibility, but he’s quick enough to scan the area, notice a ventilation shaft, transform into a fly, and get inside where he turns into a bigger bug to lower the massive love drain which such an affront to the laws of conservation of mass as changing a bughorse into a real insect is.

He feels his reserves depleting with every second he spends like this, but he needs to see who’s coming just in case. To his disappointment, the hoofsteps belong to a security guard wearing a flashlight on his head. To 387, his body language doesn’t show the faintest sign of anything suspicious. The security guard is supposed to be here, is bored, and this is a routine patrol.

Following the ventilation shafts, 387 flies out on the servant deck and transforms back. A quick check of his love reserves reveals that he’s still in no danger of running out. However, with his mind not feeling entirely like his own, unbreakable fortress anymore, he can’t stop the shiver running down his spine.

“I need a safe place to crash…” he mutters to himself. Almost on instinct, his legs lead him, for the third time, towards the drone cabins. As he enters, neither 36658 nor 20100, both weirdly letting their legs hang through their hammock while leaning against each other, wake up. His mental clock shows four in the morning which, here on the open Summer seas, should be bringing at least some light through the window, but he can only see rain and dark clouds.

He doesn’t feel safe until he locks the cabin door and leaves a hive mind marker saying he did so in case 10013 or Smiley come back before he wakes up again, and to ping the other drones if they want to get in. Finally, he lies down into an open hammock.

“...nyam nyam nyam…” 36658 mumbles quietly in its sleep, “...anguishdecimators…”

20100 instinctively chitters in response, its wings twitching into a brief buzz for a fraction of a second.

That’s all 387’s worried brain needs to finally fall asleep, this time, thankfully, without any mystery involved. In the background, however, there’s a small part of him which locks itself away from the world in order to scrutinize everything that happened tonight, millisecond after a millisecond.

Author's Note

Remember, it's just an innocent vacation trip.

Day 3 - Storm: 5/11

“Who in Tartarus forgot to cover this properly?” asks an irritated voice, waking 99380 up. A moment later, the wardrobe door opens, revealing a pegasus bartender staring in disbelief at the bleary face of 99380, “AAH?!” he jumps backwards, fanning 99380 with a gust of wind from his wings, “What are you doing here? Which one are you, I mean?”

“99380, Mister bartender,” the top half of the drone’s head peeks out of the basket, ears splayed back and listening, “Is the rumbling and flashing over?” it asks carefully.

As on cue, the world turns white and 99380 slinks back on the bottom of the basket again. The following thunder, however, is delayed and weak. The hive mind catches on, meaning someone with the knowledge of what’s going on is nearby, and shares the basics of some relevant concepts:

> Storm, lightning, thunder, rain.

With a sigh, the bartender turns off the radio which is now transmitting only static, and quickly nods his head sideways.

“I can’t let you stay in the wardrobe. How did you even get here?”

“I woke up, everything was moving when before it wasn’t, there was flashing and loud noises, and I got spooked. I went looking for 10013 who is a very smart drone and in charge of us, and I could sense it being upstairs. When I got here, everything was even louder, flashier, and blowier, so much so that I couldn’t stay on my hooves. I almost drowned like 99111, but then I climbed out of the pool and I saw this place and all I wanted was to hide. So I climbed in here and turned the radio on so that it was talking and then making music,” 99380 hangs its head, “Sorry,” it realizes the radio wasn’t talking anymore before the bartender turned it off, “Did I break it?”

The pegasus shakes his head.

“If the water got into the wiring there wouldn’t even be static. No, at this time we should be too far from Equestria to catch the Maretime Bay station. In fact, I’m pretty sure that with some gentle work I could catch some griffon station, even though the storm sent us a little off course.”

“Oh no,” 99380 covers its mouth with its hooves.

“It’s fine. All that means is that we should be docking in the Ataraki resort tonight rather than late afternoon.”

The word ‘Ataraki’ remains unexplained and untranslated in 99380’s mind.

“What does that Ataraki word mean?”

The bartender snickers.

“It’s just a name. The island is home to a native tribe -a mix of griffons, ponies, and the resulting hippogriffs, surprisingly- and the word in their language means something along the lines of breath of brimstone or ash or… something,” he shrugs, “The resort has a whole bunch of pamphlets about the whole thing, plus guided tours. There’s an inactive volcano in the center of the island, so that’s where the name came from.”

“Oooooh,” 99380’s eyes go wide, contrasting the bright teal with the darkness of the basket.

“Now, get out of there,” the bartender nods sideways again, “The storm is supposed to get worse again later and I can’t risk anything getting waterlogged. It’s a bit of a miracle nothing went wrong when you got inside.”

Crawling out of the basket and overturning it in the process, 99380 rolls out of the wardrobe. Once the bartender fastens all the tarps and covers everything properly, he turns to leave, only to find patiently waiting 99380 still sitting on the floor and looking at the deck still being whipped with rain from behind the counter. It’s much better than earlier, but still…

“Uh, do you want me to escort you back down?”

99380 reaches out to mentally touch 10013 who seems to be resting and at peace. Come to think of it, the weak presence of Smiley’s mind is in the same direction as well.

“Your friend could be on the observation platform on top of the entertainment complex,” the pegasus catches 99380’s look upwards and proves the listening skills necessary to bartending, “If you’re looking for the highest spot of the ship. Of course, they can be in the restaurant on the top floor, the casino under it, or the sports center on the level of the main deck. ”

99380 looks up at the three floors, each now filled with ponies visible through the glass walls. It could go look for 10013, but on the other hole, its main reason to go looking were the questions now answered by the friendly bartender, and 10013 doesn’t seem to be in any trouble, so… it should probably get out of the way of the busy ponies.

“I think I’ll just head back inside,” 99380 smiles at the pony, “I’ve been asleep for much longer than I expected and I should ask around if anyone doesn’t need any help. Points won’t gather themselves!”

The pegasus ponders asking more questions, but this seems like a changeling business and he has his own tasks to deal with.

***

That said, as 99380 wanders down towards the drone cabins, the corridors are strangely lacking in ponies and, as such, any inspiration regarding how to gain points.

Where could everyone be? So far, they’ve always been on the top deck at this time of day. Can that ‘entertainment complex’ place really fit so many creatures? Maybe I should just ask…

Stopping by the corridor wall and sitting down, 99380 delves into the hive mind. To its surprise, the ship map has grown larger, much larger. It seems that the living quarters and back-end of various establishments like the kitchen that 36658 and 20100 discovered take about two thirds of the ship while the last third -the entertainment complex jutting out of the top deck as well as the three floors underneath- take up the rest, and those are the newly marked and identified areas of the map.

Entertainment complex roof: Observation platform. That’s where 10013 and Smiley are!
Floor -1: Restaurant. Hive mind, please? [Food place]. Oh, neat!
Floor -2: Casino. [Tabletop games]. Like… drone ball? [Roulette, slots, blackjack, chess-] Okay, okay, okay, too many words! Pony games. Got it.
Floor -3, main deck level: Sports and fair attractions. [Air hockey, jump arena-] More games. Alright.
Floor -4, royal cabins level: Cinema, lecture halls. Ah, 10013 updated the second one after going to sleep.
Floor -5, servant cabins level: Indoor pool.
Floor -6, staff cabins level: Hot tub, sauna, jacuzzi, massage parlor. [Hot water, bubbles]
Floor -7, maintenance deck level: More maintenance corridors.

That’s a LOT of new things… where to even begin? Okay, so if I don’t know where to go to help someone, how do I make things better for us?

An image of itself nearly drowning several hours earlier in the rain-filled pool crosses 99380’s mind.

387 meant that not making the high ranks worry about us can help too. 99111 and I have both had trouble in the water, so that seems a threat. What would High Score do? It would buzz its wings so hard all the scary water would be blown away.

Ehh, that’s 36658’s High Score. What would 10013’s High Score do?

Some pondering later, the bouncing ball screensaver which best describes 99380’s mind stops as the drone concludes:

High Score would do its best. That means I have to do my best. The best I can do to help with the scary water problem would be to learn to swim. That means I should head to the indoor pool. Or maybe… a tub is smaller than a pool. It could be easier to learn to swim there.

99380 opens its eyes. Its internal timer states that it’s been sitting, motionless, for 21 minutes. It did come to a conclusion that makes sense from all angles it can think of, though.

Something is on its head.

With a puzzled raise of an eyebrow, 99380 grabs the plastic cup with a small amount of brown liquid on the bottom in which floats some black powder and a small brown tube seemingly burnt on one end.

Did someone give me something to try and improve my goop with?

There’s no one nearby. With a shrug, 99380 drinks the stale beer with a cigarette butt floating in it. After a moment, it spits out a chunk of goop, examines it, and swallows it again.

Nope. Still nothing special. But I got a hat!

Turning the big white cup upside down, it puts it on its head and heads off to the heretic cabin to hide it inside its stash, since it can’t think of a way it could help with swimming.

***

The corridors in this section of the ship are covered in beautiful wooden panels, making them seem narrower but also giving them a more homely atmosphere which, coupled with the dimmer, yellow light and even better soundproofing makes 99380 almost at peace despite this unknown territory.

Almost.

“...no reason to be scared, I’m allowed to go in, I think…” 99380 takes a breath to steady itself before reaching for the handle of a door with a plaque reading ‘Hot Tubs’ nailed to it, “Everyone’s been nice so far,” the drone recalls Sun Hammer’s massive shadow hanging over it like a dark cloud.

*Wibble.*

“...even she gave me icy cream…” it grits its teeth, puffs out its cheeks, and opens the door, “...spookyspookyspooky!” it steps into a maze of more wooden panels, ready to jump backwards in case of any thrown objects.

Nothing bad happens and, aside from extremely muffled voices, 99380 almost feels alone, which does wonders to make the drone ease up. The air is heavy and hot, much like in the egg caverns back home, but with completely different scents. Some exploratory sniffing reveals that the varying sweet scents hang the most near heavy curtains covering sectioned off parts of the ‘hot tub’ place.

Experimentally, 99380 pokes its head through the nearest curtain. The whisper of the fabric dragging over its carapace alerts two female zebras sitting in a shallow, steaming pool across from each other to its presence immediately.

“I may not be the best at distinguishing changelings from each other, but I doubt this is the baron paying us an unannounced visit,” says the more muscular one looking directly at 99380 in a deadpan tone but with the slightest hint of a smirk on her face.

“You must be right,” agrees the one looking backwards with a much more open smile, “Shaking but still all in one piece.”

“Stealing a peek at a steamy desert show, peeping tom?” asks the stronger zebra.

99380 sits down, everything aside from its head hidden behind the curtain.

“I’m sorry, Miss zebra. I think I understood all the words but I don’t know what you said. I didn’t steal anything,” the drone pokes both forelegs through the gap between the curtain and the wooden frame to show her, “Uhhh, it’s steamy here, true,” it looks at the white mist filling the private area, “Umm, desert, uhh, like food? I…” it slumps and looks down at the floor with a sigh, “I’m confused.”

“Awww!” the smiling zebra rises up from the round hot tub with a splash, her wet coat clinging to her body, walks over to 99380 and pulls it into a tight hug, “You’re all kinda samey but that also means you’re all adorable!”

99380 suddenly finds itself being carried under the zebra’s foreleg into the tub.

“Meep meep meep!” the drone starts flailing its legs as the water surface gets closer.

“What’s wrong?” the zebra stops and lowers 99380 on the solid edge of the tub instead where the drone quickly pushes itself backwards.

“D-D-D-Drown,” stutters out 99380, its voice speeding up but still holding some understandable cadence, “I almost drowned in the big pool upstairs and the same happened to 99111 because we can’t swim and there’s water everywhere and-”

“You guys can’t swim?” asks the strong zebra, “The baron can.”

“Baron?” 99380 scans the hive mind for any references and earns a record created by 10013. To 99380’s surprise, the hive mind tooltip finally identifies both zebras as well.

> Rank 1313, infiltrator, Baron of Northern San Palomino. // friendly to drones, ask someone later what baron means.
> Zamira, warrior, 1313’s love source, Baroness of Northern San Palomino. // EXTREMELY friendly to drones, likes Smiley, ask 387 about drone eggs.
> Zaida, warrior, 1313’s bodyguard, Zamira’s friend. // Doesn’t kick drones.

“Ohhh, 1313,” 99380 rubs its head momentarily overwhelmed by the influx of knowledge, “Sorry, I’m a bit slower than the others and my head just finally caught on. You met with 10013 and Smiley yesterday, right? You’re… Miss Zamira and you’re Miss Zaida,” the drone beams, “I’m 99380.”

The sudden confidence of the changeling surprises both zebras, and Zaida looks at Zamira who nods.

“Yep. Nice to meet you, 99380. What brings you here?”

“Well,” the drone rubs its head hesitantly, “I didn’t know anyone was here and I thought I would try swimming in something smaller than a pool and a tub sounded just right. If I can figure it out, the next time others get into trouble they can quickly learn how to swim from the hive mind and not drown.”

“Let me quote Zaida then - you guys can’t swim?” asks Zamira, “I heard a lot about the hive from 1313 and I assumed that basic environmental survival skills would be top priority for you diggers.”

99380 shakes its head.

“I heard from the veterans that storing experiences in the hive mind used to be crazy difficult in the old days, so the high ranks didn’t bother with saving swimming for us. If a drone got flushed down an underground river or something then they just hatched a new drone, told it to avoid the hole the previous one fell into, and sent it on its way. Now we’re allowed to store stuff in the hive mind but no one really knows how to do that.”

“Then how did you know about us?” asks Zaida with genuine curiosity, “Did 10013 tell you?”

“Nope. It’s, uhh, complicated. Back home, the hive mind is like… all wibbly and its own thing,” 99380 waves its forelegs in the air, “But when we’re close it’s different because we just draw directly from each others’ links. I dunno how to explain it, it’s just two different things,” it shrugs, “Sorry. I bet 387 or 93 would know. Or the Queen, of course.”

“Let’s not bother them,” Zamira shakes her head and beckons at 99380 to get into the hot tub, “Come in. The water is shallow even for you, and you can practice some swimming, or at least floating. If you slip, we’ll catch you. Don’t worry.”

Surrounded by friendlies, 99380 gathers courage and takes the few low steps leading down into the hot tub. Both zebras are now lying in the water, backs propped against the sides of the tub, with only their heads showing. When the drone measures that even if it sits down, the water comes up just under its mouth, it finally truly relaxes and enjoys the warmth of the water seeping through its carapace.

“Comfortable, isn’t it?” Zamira winks at it.

“We have pools like this back in the hive, but those are bubbling and super hot so we can’t get inside. I heard 99661 slip and fall into one,” the drone shudders, “...it was very loud…” its voice trails off.

Zaida winces.

“Do all of you have a story like that?”

“Yes, Miss. The veterans have tons,” 99380 nods, “They help a lot with avoiding danger, so we listen to them.”

“I like to think about these drone guys as extremely nice, polite, and unbelievably traumatized young adults,” adds Zamira, snatching 99380 into a hug, “And cuddly, I forgot extremely cuddly. Seriously, if you squeeze them just right they’re like happy little stress balls,” she demonstrates.

“Eep! Hee hee hee,” 99380 giggles.

“And in the next moment they’ll tell you a story about how their buddy died in a way that can make an experienced merc like us throw up,” Zaida snickers.

“You like those?” 99380 looks at her skeptically, “I mean I have a few more, like when-”

“No, thank you,” Zaida interrupts it, “I’d rather get to the swimming part.”

“Agreed,” Zamira nods and lets 99380 go again.

After a round of basic instructions, 99380 takes a deep breath, withdraws its legs, and starts paddling like a dog.

It sinks like a rock immediately. Thankfully, the briefest bout of panic ends the moment 99380’s kicking hooves touch the bottom of the tub and it stands up.

“Hmmm…” it frowns, sitting down and looking at its forelegs, “Last time, I think it was my wings that helped the most.”

“Leg holes,” says Zaida simply, “This won’t work with them.”

99380 gives it another shot. This time it manages to stay afloat for a second or two before sinking again while violently flailing its legs and almost kicking both zebras.

“Come to think about it,” muses Zamira, “You guys are heavier than an average pony but still smaller, so your water displacement sucks. Can you do something about that? 1313 said he has to make himself lighter to even have a chance.”

To her surprise, 99380 shakes its head.

“The more of me I, kinda, make appear or disappear, the more love it eats up. So if I whoosh away a chunk of my carapace, I’ll have less energy to swim. I think it’s much much much easier for infiltrators than for drones.”

“Hmmm,” Zamira rubs her chin, “So you need to stay the same mass but somehow float. Tricky…”

“Is it?” asks Zaida with a smirk.

“You’re thinking of something, you sly mare,” retorts Zamira.

“I am, care to take a guess?” Zaida, her forelegs stretched around the edge of the tub, taps meaningfully against the floor.

99380 looks at her hoof, having zero idea what this is about.

“Oooooh!” Zamira’s eyes go wide, “The answer has been staring us in the face all along.”

99380 squints forward but sees nothing that would shed any light on the situation, and admits it.

“The… wall?” it hazards a guess.

“Yes, in a sense,” Zaida nods, “This ship is crazy heavy, so how does it float, huh?”

“Magic?”

“Hah! I doubt even Princess Celestia could make that happen,” Zamira laughs, “No, pure engineering ingenuity. Even ponies can float if they take a deep breath. Say, little guy, can you not change but just rearrange your mass to grow some sacks of air inside yourself?”

Furrowing its brows and scrunching its nose in the deepest of concentrations, 99380 starts working in the right transformation.

“Hnnnngh-!”

*WHOOOSH!*

“-eep?!”

99380’s barrel suddenly poofs up to nearly twice its size. As the drone starts taking an unnaturally long breath, it begins rising upwards until it ends up bobbing like a buoy on the surface of water, completely unable to sink no matter what and only gently rising up and down as it breathes in and out of its real lungs.

“Eeeeeeeeeeeee!”

To the surprise of both Zaida and 99380, that excited, high-pitched noise is coming from Zamira staring at the drone.

“Say quack,” Zaida nods at the drone.

“Quack?” 99380 tilts its head.

“I CHANGED MY MIND, I DON’T WANT TO JUST ADOPT ONE, I WANT A POND FULL OF POOFY DRONES BOUNCING OFF OF EACH OTHER!”

Author's Note

I haven't written anything in two weeks. Not sure if burnout or what, but I've been drawing blanks longer than usual. Thankfully, the rest of day 3 is ready and I hope I'll get back to it. I'm so tired.

Day 3 - Storm: 6/11

Waking up, 36658 groans as a throb of dull pain spreads through its head. While this experience would worry most drones, 36658 is familiar with it as a side effect of medicine overdose. As it realizes that the familiar warmth of 20100 next to it is missing, the drone does a quick check of the situation.

Whoah, this has been a much longer sleepy time than usual. It’s afternoon already.

The hive mind is strangely quiet, and the normally dynamic mental map with at least vague locations of other changelings is now only a set of lifeless and static floor plans. That’s… surprising, to say the least, although not unique. Unlike most drones, 36658 is used to being away from more mentally skilled high ranks innately serving as hive link communication nodes due to long stretches of time tending to its poppy patch on the edge of the Badlands.

Why would the high ranks be unreachable at this time of day, though?

A quick mental reach towards the nearest link only makes the drone look downwards and see exhausted 387 sleeping on a hammock, properly. His mind is locked up so tight that it’s not helping 36658 link up with other changelings beyond the drone’s reach even unconsciously.

Did I… miss anything?

Reaching out for the most powerful hive node, meaning the Queen herself, a chill runs down 36658’s spine. There’s no Queen. Not that it could sense her but not access her link, no. Her link is just gone. The only thing preventing it from panicking is that it can faintly sense other drones, albeit they’re all too far to contact or locate, and it can’t feel any remnants of anxiety or signs of trouble.

Alright, maybe the Queen just decided she needed a proper rest without anyone bothering her, right?

Finally, it reaches out towards 93.

Ughhh…

Pain, nausea, and whatever the mental equivalent of the stench of vomit is, assault 36658 who closes its link immediately in response. However, the feeling is eerily familiar to the drone used to substance overdose. Overcome with curiosity, the closest thing that drones have to a ‘healer’ leaves the cabin, heads upstairs, and knocks on the door of the changeling delegation’s hoofmaiden suite shortly after.

It waits… and waits.

An occasional thud of someone bumping into furniture follows along with groaning and unsteady hoofsteps until the lock clicks and the door opens, letting out the acrid smell of goop in the middle of forming mixed with alcohol and soap. Through a crack revealing a dark room, 36658 can see 93 shielding her eyes with a foreleg.

“...yes…?” she grunts quietly.

“...hi!” 36658 whispers, aware of how she must be feeling, “Is anything wrong? I can’t sense the Queen and 387 is completely gooped. Can I help you?”

93’s raspy voice begins saying something but she stumbles backwards, sits down, and clutches her head. 36658 walks into the room and closes the door behind itself, burying it in near-pitch blackness lit only by glowing teal eyes again, not that it bothers the drone whatsoever.

“Does your head hurt?” the drone knows that whispering is the only way, “I’d give you some new anguishdecimators from yesterday but they might make things worse. I tried curing my hurties I got from taking too many agonyslayers by more of them and it didn’t go-”

“...please…” croaks 93, presenting a hoof to 36658 who interprets the gesture correctly for once.

Unlike when 36658 can normally nudge its digestion in the right direction to spit out the correct green chip, this time the drone opens a leg hole inside which rests multiple white pills, one of which it offers to 93 who greedily devours it.

“I’ll bring you some water. It helps,” it recalls that the hoofmaiden suite has its own bathroom in which 93 was taking a shower the day they boarded, and returns with a filled glass it grabbed on the way there from a table. When 93 guzzles it down, spilling some on herself, the drone adds, “If you don’t mind, I think I should stay here just in case the anguishdecimators have some side-effects. You’re the first one to try them.”

The infiltrator only nods, pushes herself towards the bed, rests her back against the frame, closes her eyes, and forces herself into slow and deep breaths.

36658 looks around, locating a pile of yellow-ish green sludge next to the bed, with more staining the bed itself. There was more in the bathroom too, in and around some big, white, bowl. It all seemed like some variant of classic goop, but clearly misformed and useless. A mess rather than a useful tool.

Letting 93 rest, it examines the white bowl and experimentally pushes a small lever on its side. In response, a torrent of water coming from tiny slits along the inside edge fills it before draining through a hole in the middle.

> Toilet.

A tooltip for the white water bowl is the best the hive mind can do at the moment, but 36658 just shrugs. It makes liquid things go away, and that’s enough. The drone grows a big spoon out of its foreleg and begins shoveling scoops of 93’s failed goop into the toilet, flushing it down often just in case too much of the mess could make something stick somewhere inside the contraption.

The real challenge starts with the stained bedsheets which, no matter how tightly 36658 rolls them up, just don’t get flushed and the water in the bowl keeps getting higher, so it doesn’t even try with the carpet and leaves the now water-soaked sheet shoved halfway into the toilet hole.

As it enters the main room, it finds itself under the scrutinizing stare of 93. A drone of its age and experience has to fight off the instinct to immediately hide which evaporates the moment 93 says:

“Thank you.”

“I, uhh, cleaned up a bit, but there’s still stuff I don’t know how to-”

“Thank you,” repeats 93.

“Uhh, and the toilet thing is kinda stuck-”

“That’s okay,” she says, patting the carpet between her legs, “Come here.”

Unsure what’s about to happen, 36658 shuffles over and sits down.

“Eep?!” it squeaks when 93 pulls it against its barrel.

“You drones are weird, you know that?” she muses.

“Are we? How?”

“You completely turn being a changeling on its head, if you think about it,” she absent-mindedly scratches 36658’s head, “An infiltrator, or a warrior… they adapt to every circumstance, and yet you drones… don’t. Not in the same way.”

“Huh? We can transform too.”

“And how many drones can do what you do with the drugs?”

“As far as we know, just me and my buddy 57999.”

“Could another drone transform internally to do what you can do on instinct?”

“I dunno. Maybe? It’s hard to describe how I do what I do. Heheh, most of the time I don’t even know what I’m doing.”

“That’s exactly what I’m getting at. If we need painkillers - we have you or 57999. Flame dousing - 10013. Standard goop but in multiplicative amounts - 99526. An infiltrator, or maybe a really good warrior could transform to do anything you can do, but why would they waste so much love when all one needs to do is… find the right drone? You’re the exact opposite of the idea of a changeling - we’re generalists, the masters of adaptability. You’re specialists… swarms of specialists so granular that most of your skills are near-useless to the point where from the outside the only things you can do are the simplest things ever - carrying stuff and digging,” 93 keeps talking, almost as if only to herself, “After all, who would need something as specific as goop that’s easy to spread into a membrane and waterproof? Or a hive mind so specialized that it can broadcast with near zero love drain but no ability to use it for anything else?”

“Uhhh, 93, we just do what the hive needs.”

That quiet sentence full of uncertainty said in a puzzled tone of someone who completely lost the thread stops 93’s mind in its tracks.

“387 has been right all along…” she breathes out, voice filled with amazement, “No… he almost got it. He was so close. The complete entity isn’t a changeling, it’s the hive.”

“93?” peeps 36658, “Do you need another another anguishdecimator?”

She bonks the drone on the head.

“Here’s a point, dummy.”

10013: 0

20100: 4

36658: 3

99111: 2

99380: 3

99526: 0

Smiley: :-) :-) :-) :-) :-)

“Yesss! Fanatics are firmly in the lead!” 36658 beams and exclaims, “For High Score!”

“Ow!” 93 winces from the loud yell, but the new drug is working absolute wonders, “Shush before I take it back.”

“Sorry!” whispers 36658 enthusiastically, “Besides the points, though, what was all that about? I had no idea it was possible to string so many words that I know together and say something that I have no clue what it means.”

93 chuckles.

“It means that the Queen is much smarter than everyone thinks.”

“Even more? Woooow,” 36658’s jaw drops.

“...and not a single drop of irony…” 93 shakes her head in disbelief, “I guess everyone would be happy to have you and we’re the lucky ones who do.”

“Really? Am I making High Score proud?” asks 36658, at this point needing some reassurance that what it’s doing is the right thing or at least going in the right direction.

Yay for fanat-!

“I’m sure all of you do,” replies 93.

Goop! So close!

Day 3 - Storm: 7/11

A world of shiny colors unlike anything it’s seen in its life so far opens before 20100 along with the door to the glass-walled casino overlooking the cruise ship’s main deck.

“Woooow…!” the drone breathes out, bursts of colors from slot machines reflecting in its teal eyes.

SECURITY ponies are walking around, observing the numerous groups of mingling griffon and pony passengers busy by various tables or sitting in front of tall, flashing boxes that make loud noises of all kinds which nonetheless don’t bother the ponies whatsoever, so 20100 doesn’t get spooked… much.

As the drone stands in the doorway, eyes open wide, more guests push past and head off to the reception desk for a brief exchange before moving on to the least populated table where a pony wearing a black suit with a white shirt immediately starts giving them small pictures.

So far, 20100 understands absolutely nothing about this bustling place aside from it being full of noises and shinies, but it seems that the key to everything are small, two-colored discs that one trades for shinies at the front desk. Considering that 20100 left most of the shinies it got yesterday for drawing back in its stash, the drone flies up to be face to face with the rather surprised receptionist stallion, and puts five two-bit coins it has on itself onto the desk.

“Umm, hello!” 20100 smiles, “I’d like to trade these shinies for the discs that make those big boxes go clang clang and flash, please.”

To the pony’s credit, he simply counts the coins and gives the drone ten small, red discs with the number one painted on them.

“Do you need a tour?” asks the pony politely and raises an eyebrow in surprise when the drone shakes its head.

“I think exploring is part of the fun, right? Nothing has tried to eat me so far,” it beams happily, adding, “I like it here.”

“Well then, enjoy yourself,” the pony says after a moment of hesitation caused by the peculiar interaction.

With the one-bit chips split safely between various leg holes due to them being larger than their equivalent coins, 20100 moves towards the most interesting thing in here - the flashy box. It’s simple, the only pony scribbles on the whole thing are above a lever situated on the left side of its front face, reading ‘PULL’, and the whole thing is covered in pictures. An experimental prod of the hive mind reveals nothing about the box’s function, probably because the only barely accessible high rank link is 93’s and that one is fully occupied with providing a communication extension for the weak links of other drones. 93 is likely sleeping and this is her mind working on instinct.

20100 pulls the lever. Nothing happens aside from a set of scribbles which the drone previously missed due to the sensory overload caused by the colorful slot machine covered in pictures of pirates and fruit lighting up. The scribbles read ‘INSERT’. After sniffing the slot, 20100 puts two and two together and pushes a single casino chip in.

Nothing happens. After a brief bout of detective work, 20100 pulls the lever for the second time.

The machine whirrs and starts flashing, causing 20100 to at first scuttle back and then start giggling and happily clapping as the three small windows in its center begin spinning. The drone doesn’t know where to look first - at the flashing pictures, trying to make out what the small pictures on the spinnies are, or where the clicking is coming from.

The first one stops with a click. 20100 twitches. The picture it’s showing is a chest!
The second one stops, showing a chest!
The final one stops - a pony with a black skull hat holding a slashy in its mouth!

*CLING CLING CLING CLING!*

*Thump.* *Thump.* *Click.*

With the final click, the machine stops, leaving 20100 staring in amazement. What does the picture mean? What’s making it flash? Why does it eat the soft discs? Is it happy? Is it angry? SO MANY QUESTIONS!

“Huh…” 20100 looks down at a small alcove in the lower portion of the box where there are now two soft discs for some reason.

What would High Score do? High Score wouldn’t waste resources, and my resources here are these discs.

With that conclusion in mind, 20100 stashes one disc into a leg hole, and inserts the extra one the machine spat out into the slot before pulling the lever again.

Chest, weird two red balls on a string [cherries], chest.

20100 happily watches the show and claps in the end when two chips fall out of the bottom slot.

What’s making the pictures change and move? Can I do it with my drawings?

Again.

Apple. Chest. Chest. Two chips. Clap. Clap. “Ehehehe!”

Again…

***

“GUYS, YOU GOTTA SEE THIS!”

Thanks to 93’s hangover having subsided dramatically over the past hour, the excited mental call reaches every single drone on the ship along with the ping marking 20100’s position inside the casino. Shortly after, the calling drone finds itself surrounded by a semicircle of bobbing black heads having a tough time remaining focused amidst all the sounds and colors.

“I found a duplication box!” 20100 taps its hoof against the slot machine.

“What does it do?” asks 36658, meaningfully staying as far as it can from 99111.

“You put this disc thingy they call a chip in… and you get two back!” 20100 beams, sitting next to a pile of one-bit chips bigger than itself.

A bold claim like that requires a demonstration, which 20100 repeats several times, accompanied by ‘oooh’ and ‘wooow’ of the drones watching the flashy display.

“Can I try?” asks 99380, “Wait, where did you get these chips in the first place?”

“I traded a few shinies that I got yesterday for them.”

“Goop!” pouts 99380, “I don’t have any.”

“No worries!” 20100 presents a pile of chips to it held in both forelegs, “Here ya go!”

99380 follows the instructions and-

Cherries. Banana. Apple.

The box plays a couple of somber notes and nothing falls out.

“Awww. Did I do it wrong?” 99380 scratches its head.

“Uhhh, no?” 20100 tilts its head, equally as puzzled, “Let me try again just in case.”

Chest. Pirate. Chest. Two bits.

“Huuuuh…” 10013 examines the box from all sides.

“I… think it might not work that way for anyone other than 20100,” says 36658 who has been uncharacteristically silent until now, “Mind if everyone else gives it a shot, buddy?”

“Of course not!” 20100 shrugs and shoves a chunk of the pile towards the others, “I can always get more chippies, it seems.”

“Can I try too, please?” asks 65536 politely, “I know I’m not part of-”

*PILE SHOVE!*

“Hee hee hee!” the Nightguard drone accepts the presented chips and patiently waits its turn with the duplication box.

Some experimentation and a bunch of lost chips later, 36658 stops 10013 from putting in another chip.

“I think we tested my theory enough. 20100, this flashy box is yours.”

“It definitely looks like that,” 10013 nods and backs off.

“Awww,” pouts 20100, “I was hoping you guys could have fun with it too…”

“Hmmm…” 36658 crosses its forelegs on its chest.

“You’re thinking of something, aren’t you?” asks 10013.

“Probably something High Score related,” 99111 snickers.

“Don’t be mean!” 99526 nudges 99111 who hangs its head.

“...just joking…”

“No, nothing about High Score right now,” 36658 ignores it, “About 93, actually, and something she said. 10013, you’re a smart drone, can you help me?”

“Umm, sure?”

All drones huddle closer out of sheer curiosity but 36658 whispers something into 10013’s ear.

“That’s… interesting,” 10013 looks around, “20100, can you try more of these boxes? I can’t tell you why yet.”

“Ooooh, a secret plan. I like it!” 20100 salutes and trots off to find a different slot machine that’s not occupied.

10013 turns to 65536 next.

“Buddy, I think you’re the right changeling to ask because you know the most about ponies. Do you know pony games? Like drone ball, dodge drone, curling, and other stuff?”

“Curling? Is that new?” asks 65536.

“Yup. I’ll explain later.” 10013 nods, “I need your opinion on what games are the most random.”

“Oooh,” 65536 salutes too, just for the feel of it, “I went with Mister Night Hunter into a place he called ‘gambling den’ because there were ponies fighting, and he explained all about games of chance to me. We gotta find a spinny thing on a table ponies call a roulette, a bigger spinny wall thing called the wheel of fortune, or a big table where ponies throw dice and bet on numbers.”

“Everyone else,” 10013 looks around, “I dunno, grab some chips and see what they can be used for, maybe?”

Smiley eats a chip.

*Bleh face.*

“Not for eating, good attempt,” 10013 nods, “Any ideas, 65536?”

“I think they’re like pony bits, but for this place, so maybe you can try to ask around what they can be traded for.”

“20100, where did you get the chips?” asks 65536 mentally.

“Front desk!” replies the drone, “And, by the way, the two machines I found duped the chips for me too.”

“Okay, it’s not the machines, it’s you then,” summarizes 10013, “Come here and let’s do some more testing.”

As the others spread out around the casino, 65536 leads 10013, 36658, and 20100 to a roulette table where the patrons shoot them somewhat confused glances.

“My buddy here would like to place a bet,” says 65536, looking up at the croupier and nudging 20100 carefully carrying several stacks of chips on its back.

“How much and on what? The minimum bet is five bits,” replies the pony.

“I got all these from dupl- slot machines,” 20100 shuffles up and down, making the stacks on its back wobble, “So… what do I bet on?”

“A color and a number,” replies the fascinated croupier to the groaning of patrons around the table annoyed that their game is being interrupted.

“Blue and 9999,” smiles 20100.

Being a polite staffer, the pony barely visibly winces before explaining the most basic rules and offering that the changelings should watch a few rounds before entering and betting, which sounds like a properly smart suggestion, so they wait while hovering above the table.

“Ooooh,” 20100 nods when it gets the idea several minutes later and a new round starts, “Alright, umm… all these chippies on black 13.”

“Betting everything on a single slot is… unwise for a beginner,” the croupier can’t help himself, “The odds of winning are extremely low.”

20100 shrugs.

“I can always get more chippies later from the machines.”

“As you wish,” the pony watches everyone place a much larger sum of their chips on the table in hopes of winning 20100’s pot before spinning the wheel and throwing the ball.

When it stops spinning, everyone glares at 20100 excitedly hovering up and down with a massive grin.

“Black… 13…” announces the croupier, “The only bet, winner takes all,” as if trying to persuade mostly himself, he adds robotically, “No magic is being used, this place is, like every casino, equipped with the best detection systems revised for changelings.”

“I’VE GOT ALL THE CHIPPIES!” exclaims 20100.

10013 and 36658 exchange glances.

“I guess 93 hit the peeky gribbler right on the head,” says the great leader, “So… what does it mean for us?”

“I think it means that 20100 won’t have special goop,” shrugs 36658.

“What’s this all about anyway?” asks 65536, listening intently.

“I don’t know if I can tell ya, buddy,” 36658 shakes its head, “93 kinda made it out to be a critical hive thing. Sorry.”

“Hah, no problem!” 65536 laughs, “I know a whole bunch of guard things I’m not supposed to tell anyone. I know secrets gotta stay secrets sometimes.”

“YAAAAAAY, EVEN MORE CHIPPIES!” comes from the table above and behind them, “Uhh… I don’t think I can carry that many anymore.”

Three looming shadows fall on the changelings as a trio of massive earth ponies wearing black suits block the lights.

Day 3 - Storm: 8/11

The casino is filled with creatures busy trying to fill the rainy afternoon. Among those are two muscular zebras wearing two-piece swimsuits each, presumably in hopes of later going swimming into the indoor pool two floors down, but in reality to draw the attention of the gaming patrons, and it certainly is working.

Zemi rubs against a griffon who just rolled a lucky pair of dice with a seductive, red lipstick-laced smile.

“You’re on a roll, lion,” she whispers into his ear, “Care to buy a thirsty desert mare a drink.”

The griffon’s eyes widen as he takes in the spectacle that is the zebra bodyguard, but he controls himself and slides several chips towards her.

“It’s all skill, babe,” he replies, “But even the best could use something to rub for good luck,” he presents his talons holding a pair of dice, “Or maybe a kiss.”

With a seductive smile, Zemi puts her mouth to his fist and blows on it.

“I prefer taking it slow,” she says in a deep voice, but freezes as she catches something from the corner of her eye. Straightening up, she turns towards her zebra companion and whispers into her ear, “Zara, this guy’s an easy mark. Take it for me for a minute and get us something to drink, will you?”

The second zebra nods and takes Zemi’s place as the griffon watches Zemi head off in the direction of the bathrooms.

“Where is she-?”

“My friend just went to freshen up for you,” says his new zebra ‘trophy’, “I’ll be more than happy to keep you company in the meantime,” she leans towards his ear, “And if you’re lucky enough today, your luck might just continue even tonight…”

***

Having left smaller Zara to entertain the griffon, Zemi enters the short hallway leading towards the bathrooms. She’s not worried about her bodyguard companion. In her experience, griffons love someone smaller to feel dominant over and, despite her size, Zara can easily bend the griffon’s spine into a pretzel if he tries anything. In Zemi’s mind, posing as a casino trophy is an innocent activity, mostly. In general, stallions don’t get to be close to mares as physically fit as the bodyguards, so they let their guard down when met with some compliments. It nets the mares free drinks, company they can leave whenever it grows stale, and the girls know not to take things too far and lead their marks on. Despite Baron 1313’s and Zamira’s lack of etiquette requirements, no member of Zamira’s unit wants to shed bad light on the Northern San Palomino delegation because, no matter what, it sure beats working for that sleazebag Blueblood.

The strangeness that caught her attention is difficult to explain, being more a sense of several small things not fitting together rather than one big problem. She, herself, isn’t sure what caused her to leave, and goes through a mental checklist of her own. One - a changeling went to the bathroom. No reason to do that, but nothing wrong with that, per se. Two - the changeling was the slightly bigger but dumber one. Three - the changeling was carrying a small pile of chips on its back for some reason. Four - shortly before that, she saw other changelings win big at something. Five…

Five - a stereotypical coke fiend went in there shortly before the changeling.

*Click!* *Whirr!* *Clap clap clap!*

Zemi stops in front of the stallions’ bathroom, listening to the repeating sequence of noises for a while before entering and getting assaulted by even more nonsense.

The changeling is sitting in the corner of the room under the condom dispenser, surrounded by colorful wrappers strewn around it. It briefly looks at her, then puts a chip from a now much smaller pile into the machine’s slot, pokes a button seemingly at random, the machine whirrs, a wrapped condom drops out, and the changeling claps its hooves together with a happy smile.

As the zebra approaches it, her head tilted in utter confusion, the changeling moves the wrapped condom onto an unsorted pile to its right. On its left, there are several individual condoms, each in a different color. Nothing is unwrapped, and the changeling doesn’t seem particularly interested in the discarded ones.

“Hell-o?” Zemi leans closer.

The changeling beams at her, looks around, and finally pushes several condoms from the unsorted pile towards her. In every other case the zebra would know what this is about. Now, she doesn’t have a clue.

Someone walks out of the stall on the side of the room and their hoofsteps stop.

“Keep moving,” says Zemi with only a quick glance revealing a stallion with the remains of white powder under its nose, “Wipe your muzzle better, and don’t pretend that a zebra wearing a swimsuit, a changeling, and enough condoms for a small platoon never played a role in your dreams.”

The stallion quickly washes his hooves and face and rushes off.

“You… have no idea what these are for, have you?” asks Zemi. The changeling only tilts its head, offering her a small pile with its hooves again. After some thinking, she takes one and unwraps it, earning a dropped jaw from the changeling and a curious sniffing of the scented condom itself, “On the other stripe, this might make for a good bait and switch party story,” she smirks and blows the unwrapped condom into a balloon before tying the end into a knot and releasing it into the air.

The changeling pokes it with its muzzle, making it float off in an arc. She walks a bit off, and then bounces the balloon back.

I’m inside a casino on a cruise ship in international waters, and I’m bouncing a condom ball through the air with a mentally challenged changeling.

Seeing the pure joy in the changeling’s face as it bounces the ball back towards her with its nose, Zemi can’t help thinking:

…and I don’t really mind. Maybe Zamira wasn’t wrong about settling down after all these years. Maybe this San Palomino posting won’t be just another in a long line of gigs.

***

The darkness of the hive mind waiting room is filled with panicking drones.

“Does anyone know where either 1313 or Miss Gem are now?” asks 10013, “With no high ranks available, I think they’re the only ones who can help.”

“Eeep!” 99526 mentally winces.

“Nope, sorry,” 99380 shakes its head, “I can try calling. Miss 93 said I could do hive mind speech better than you guys for some reason.”

“Please, do,” 10013 nods.

In the real world, however, the clumped up drones are standing by the roulette table, facing bouncers, the croupier, and a bunch of fuming patrons.

“What? How were we cheating?!” huffs 36658 indignantly, glaring at the trio of bouncers nearly four times its size.

“No one can have luck like that,” rumbles the leader, “So it’s got to be magic.”

“That’s goop!” 36658 rises onto the tips of its hooves, still barely reaching up to the bouncer’s neck, ”Magic is pony stuff! Do we look like ponies to you?” after sitting down, the drone raises its foreleg and points to it with the other, “LEG. HOLES.”

“Changeling magic,” rumbles the leading bouncer who, 10013 is beginning to think, has roughly Smiley’s level of vocabulary, “You’re a cheating bunch.”

“Stop calling my buddy a cheater you… you… big dummy rumbler!” 36658 is too angry to be scared, which might just be history's second for a drone.

10013, who has been silent so far, clears its throat and raises its foreleg, earning the glares of all three bouncers.

“Your… pony who controls the spin- roulette, said you had the best magical alarms just for this case. Did we trigger those in some way?” asks the leading drone with a plan in mind.

“No, but what happened over the course of this session was impossible,” says the croupier, emboldened by the agreement of several patrons clearly angry at 20100 sitting on the table next to a pile of chips bigger than itself, “That’s why I have to assume the alarms aren’t properly calibrated-” now he earns the glares of the patrons, adding, “-and we’re willing to roll back the results of last few games, don’t worry, as soon as we solve this issue.”

“I doubt that will be necessary,” says a stern male voice behind the bouncers, “We have enough experience with changeling magic to identify it rather easily.”

“Who do you think you- oh… uhh, welcome, sir,” the croupier reels back as if struck when a unicorn shoves the biggest bouncer aside and looks around with a friendly smile. The stallion is a blueprint of a classical unicorn with his pristine white coat and shaggy blond mane, short beard rimming his chin, and unkempt tail. He looks in his forties but incredibly well maintained and fit, although the look in his eyes, if someone had the experience, might hint at him being much older. His cutie mark is a greatsword on the backdrop of a sun which in shape mirrors princess Celestia’s herself. However, the main thing about him which stops the situation in its tracks is an amulet of the sun, marking him as a high ranking member of the Paladins, “What brings you here?” asks the croupier.

“My apprentice here does,” the paladin nods back to a changeling infiltrator measuring the situation with narrowed eyes. When faced with the annoyed looks of the bouncers, the changeling taps on a sun talisman similar to the unicorn’s hanging around his neck, “From what I gathered, these little guys were confused about what was going on and called for help. Since no member of their delegation was nearby, Ten here asked me to help investigate. Name’s Bright Star,” the unicorn gives everyone a courteous nod, “Care to enlighten us regarding the situation?”

A brief round of explanations about presumed cheating and 20100’s winning streak later, Bright Star rubs his chin and looks at Ten.

“Have you ever heard about anything like this?”

“Most ranking hive members know little to nothing about drones, and in the same way my experience is limited,” shrugs Ten, “A quick scan of their minds showed me that they’ve definitely not intended to cheat in any way. On the other hole, it is possible that they might have instinctively done something I can’t find without a deeper dig into their heads, which might be grounds for retaliation from Queen Chrysalis herself.”

“Then I propose an experiment,” says Bright Star, “I’m somewhat of a changeling expert in my order, and my friend here has very little loyalty to the hive, so we should be able to identify any magic being used. How about a few rounds between friends?” he jingles a small pouch of chips.

“I still have to call the manager, sir,” the croupier's demeanor changes dramatically.

“Of course,” Bright Star nods, “The more authorities see this, the better, no matter the result,” he looks down at 10013, “How about that, little one?”

“Sure,” 10013 shrugs, “We know 20100 isn’t cheating, right?” it looks towards the table on which 20100 is sitting and waiting for the situation to unfold.

“I just say the numbers and colors I like…” mumbles 20100 mournfully, ”I didn’t think I’d get us in trouble for that. If I knew that I’d stick to my drawings…”

The croupier trots off and returns quickly with a unicorn wearing a suit. Too quickly, which points to him already knowing about this and being ready to step in.

“What is this about cheating changelings?” the manager throws a haughty look towards 20100 who pulls its head between its shoulders.

“A-hem!” finally fed up, 65536 flies up next to 20100 and pats it to cheer it up, “I know I’m off duty but this has gone too far,” it looks at the manager, “One more cheating allegation and I’m reporting this,” it pulls out a Nightguard badge from the pouch around its neck.

“Reporting what?” the manager sneers, “We’re a private company plus we’re outside Equestrian borders at the moment.”

“Refusal of service based on species-” growls Ten but stops when Bright Star raises his foreleg.

“Everypony calm down, please. First, let’s test for cheating and see where we go from there, shall we?”

Several rounds of roulette later and spells being cast in between them, Bright Star and Ten exchange disbelieving glances when the increasingly unhappy 20100’s pile of chips only grows. Next, 20100 gives some chips to 36658 who does its best but loses them quickly to the house. The same thing repeats with Ten and 65536 to cover all bases.

In the final round of roulette, the wheel stops just before the ball hits the segment stated by 20100, the ball on the top of the roulette wheel used to spin the thing starts glowing in tune with a bracelet on the croupier’s foreleg and the same happens with the bouncers. As the manager touches the glowing ball, a strand of light points at Bright Star.

“Huh?” 20100’s ears perk up, “I guessed wrong?” the drone almost looks happy about it considering how much trouble it brought.

“No, I stopped it while masking my magic,” says Bright Star, “Looks like your alarm works just fine.”

“See?” the manager shoots a meaningful glare to the paladin.

“That this proves the changeling did nothing wrong? Yes, I see that,” the paladin easily wins the staring contest, making the manager look down with his sharp tone, “That changelings have no idea about hedging bets, about probability, and how to properly play roulette based on statistics? Yes, I see that too. What we’re dealing with here is a changeling who is unnaturally lucky at roulette, simple as that. The real question is - what to do with that? With witnesses everywhere around, you can’t just refuse them service. You’re still an Equestrian company. I also understand that letting the changeling play would ruin your roulette table. Any ideas?”

“I don’t think I even want all these chippies when it’s that much trouble…” 20100 lies down on the table and covers its head with its forelegs.

The manager thinks for a moment before slowly saying:

“Neither our alarms nor your specialist spells caught anything so, as you stated, it would be unlawful for us to take the changeling’s winnings away. Of course, ruining the game for all other patrons would cause so much more damage that it wouldn’t be worth it. So… how about this?” he looks at 20100, “You keep your winnings, but you stay away from roulette, and you don’t cash in the chips afterwards. Instead you use them as currency for the ship’s services, which is of course possible for the convenience of all patrons.”

“That deal is so one-sided that if I facehoof at the sheer unfairness I’ll punch my skull out,” scowls Ten.

20100 sits back up, furrows its brows, and looks at 10013 who asks:

“So… all that means is that we can’t trade those back for shinies, right?”

“Shin-” the manager gives the drone a somewhat annoyed look, “Do you mean bits? If so, then yes.”

“Yes, it does,” replies 65536 instead.

“If 65536 says that then I do. It knows your pony stuff,” 10013 nods.

All drones exchange glances.

“So that means we gotta spend it here, right? On anything?” 10013 keeps probing.

“Yes,” says Ten, interupting the manager, “But all you achieve by doing that is saving Chrysalis some money from the servant spending account, and trust me that she can live with-”

“Umm, the Queen didn’t set that up,” says 65536, “I had ice cream with 99380 yesterday and the seller lady said she didn’t do that.”

Ten facehoofs.

“You know, I don’t know what I was thinking,” rolling his eyes, he shrugs, “Screw her then, go wild.”

Earning a direct approval from a high rank, even one not associated with the hive, the drones perk up immediately.

“Well, do we have a deal?” asks the manager, clearly taking a breath of relief.

Everyone looks at 10013, even 20100 whose chips those are.

“65536, is it a good deal?” it asks mentally.

“Incredibly,” 65536 smirks, “Especially when 20100 didn’t tell them about the slot machines. You can try anything this cruise offers now and you can always come grab some chips here if you don’t overdo it.”

“Are you okay with the terms, 20100?”

“If I’m getting this right… no one’s mad at us anymore, we can use these for icy cream and other stuff and I can always grab more, and all it cost me was the few shinies I brought with me from my stash?” 20100 can’t believe this lucky resolution.

“Yup!” say both 65536 and 10013.

Accord reached, 10013 speaks out loud:

“We do!”

“Excellent!” the manager smiles, nodding towards the bouncers, “I believe we’re done here.”

As they turn around to leave, they all freeze, just like all the nearest casino patrons, all staring at Smiley leaving the bathroom with lipstick kiss mark on the side of its muzzle, a string of wrapped condoms around its neck, and accompanied by a zebra wearing a swimsuit.

Blissfully ignorant of the shocked looks of everyone, Smiley walks towards the drones, bouncing a blown-up condom on its head.

As if nothing happened, 10013 waves at Smiley.

“Heya, buddy. We got a whole bunch of chippies, wanna try some icy cream?”

Zemi blinks when she notices the huge pile on the table, and walks past the stunned bouncers, paladins, and everyone else.

“Care to buy a thirsty mare a drink, changelings?”

“Is she a friend?” asks 20100.

“I think she’s with 1313 and his lady friend. They’re pretty nice!” replies 10013.

“Plus, it looks like she was taking care of Smiley while we were busy,” adds 36658.

*HAPPY FACE!*

“That’s settled, then.” 20100 nods.

“Sure thing, stripey friend!” cheers 20100, offering Zemi a hoofful of chips easily worth near a hundred bits, “There ya go! Any ideas where we could spend them?”

“I’m sure I can think of something,” Zemi smiles.

Day 3 - Storm: 9/11

The storm rages again, albeit weaker than in the early hours of the morning. The rain is whipping the deck, and the occasional lightning flashes in the distance. Clearly, the rainy but mostly peaceful day was just the storm’s eye, and now that the evening is here, the course has sent the ship back under the black and heavy boiling clouds drenching the top deck of the ship with torrents of water.

With the experience now not being unique anymore, however, 10013 finds itself back on the observation platform atop the entertainment complex, curled up under a chair with its legs hooked by the chair’s, and staring into the distance now with more curiosity than fear. Why is the flashing happening? How big is the storm? Why is there a scary noise afterwards? All questions that will likely never get any answers, but are still fun to ponder. And who knows? Maybe 10013 will stumble on a line of thought which might be useful to drones at large, possibly entirely unrelated to current events.

10013 isn’t alone on the dark deck lit only by glow coming through the glass walls of the entertainment complex floors, or at least never for long. Occasionally, ponies whom the drone can identify due to the yellow letters on their dark clothes take a brief trip around the deck before returning inside.

Lightning flashes nearby. In 10013’s recent experience, a big rumble should be coming soon. In the world of numbers, 10013 starts counting in hopes to identify the relationship between the light and the noise past its current guess that “the sound takes longer to happen when the light is further”.

*RRRRUUUUUUUMBBBLLEEEEE!*

There it is.

*BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!*

The entire cruise ship shakes with the second loud noise happening within several seconds of the first, and 10013’s hive link receives the feelings of confusion from multiple sources closely following the sudden screeching sound of tortured metal under pressure.

Despite the nighttime darkness, 10013 narrows its eyes as it spots smoke billowing from the side of the ship.

What?

***

Falling feeling wakes 99111 up, followed by a thud as the drone hits the wooden floor.

“Whuh?” it tries to stand up but keeps falling to the side. For some unexplained reason, whatever normally makes it fall to the ground is making it fall in a slanted manner - towards the wall. Its stomach lurches as it slides to where the floor meets the wall with the window. Having too many chips to reasonably spend, 20100 gave every drone a bunch, and they all ran upstairs to some place the ponies called a… a… rest for runts? Something like that. There they got these long lists of pony foods and drinks, so they dug in. 99526 was the first one to feel the overload of bloating, so 99111 escorted it back to the fanatic cabin.

So… where is 99526?

“Uhh, guys? The floor is being weird!” it broadcasts through the faint connections instinctively kept together by 93.

“Ow ow ow ow ow…” 99380’s pained groan is the first one to connect,

“Blurghhrhghgh!” incoherent sounds of retching come from 99526 next.

“I’m okay but there’s a huge pile of ponies in the corner of the casino!” they hear 20100, “Everything is tilting and the SECURITY ponies are dragging everyone out.”

“93, 387, YOUR MAJESTY, 10013, ANYONE?!” calls out 99111, “What’s happening?!”

“THE SHIP BROKE!” 10013’s sharp tone cuts through the incoherent chaos, “Something went boom and it’s sinking!”

Sinking? Into… water?

99111’s hive links shut down all at once as a chill runs down its spine along with its memories of drowning from yesterday suddenly pushing everything out of its mind and playing on repeat.

I gotta get out! I gotta get out I gotta get out IgottagetoutIgottagetoutOUTOUTOUTOUT!

The drone’s wings burst to life and, now floating in the middle of the skewed cabin, 99111 finally regains some stability.

Out out out!

It bolts upwards towards the door, grabs the handle, and pulls it down. The instant the mechanism clicks, force far beyond 99111’s strength slams the door open as water bursts through, splattering the drone and getting into its eyes and nose. The tough membrane covering the drone’s eyes serves well as a shield, but as it breathes in the salty water, the memories from yesterday drown 99111 before the water does.

Wings suddenly frozen with terror and legs flailing without coordination, 99111 screams-

“HELP M-”

-before breathing in more water. Opening its mouth further to cough and throw up is the last straw and 99111 sinks down into the rapidly filling-up cabin.

“...High Score… please…”

99111’s world moves and a spike of burning agony rammed through its mind wakes it up. Its barrel cracks from outside force pushing at its belly, and it finds itself held above the surface of water once again.

This time, however, the face it can see mere inches from its own is 10013’s.

“Wh-” 99111 opens its mouth which gets immediately closed by 10013’s hoof.

“Hive link only! I copied a transformation into your head as best I could but it might not be complete and I don’t doubt it hurt. DON’T use it right now,” 10013 stops 99111’s reflex.

99111 nods, hanging for dear life with its forelegs around for some reason buoyant 10013’s neck. Carefully kicking its legs, 10013 moves them both towards the bolted down wardrobe the corner of which is above water.

“Hang onto this for a second,” it says. When trembling 99111 latches onto the wood, a green shimmer passes 10013 who sinks into the water. A few moments later, 10013 drags itself back towards the surface by the wood of the wardrobe and faces 99111, “Everyone else is scared but only you were the one panicking beyond any control, so I came here first. Good thing too.”

“...I’m sorry…” mumbles 99111. In the real world, 10013 pulls it into a hug with one leg, using the other holding the wardrobe to keep itself steady.

“Now, this is going to be terrifying, buddy, but I know you can do it. Use the transformation and take a deeeeep breath,” says 10013 after letting go of 99111 whose barrel balloons up, “Good job!” the drone leader does the same and now they’re both easily bobbing on the water, their heads bumping into the new ‘ceiling’, “I dug a hole in the side of the ship-”

“What?”

“The corridors were full of fleeing ponies and floating… everything. I don’t know if we can get out that way. Besides, the ship is already sinking. If 387 gets angry with me for that anyway…” 10013 grits its teeth, “Then so be it. I’m getting you out.”

“I’m sorry you had to come here first-” mumbles 99111 again.

*Slap!*

“Keep it together, please!” 10013 rubs 99111’s cheek after hitting it, “The worst is yet to come. We might have enough air or we might not, but we for sure WON’T if you panic during the next part. If we get through the hole then this transformation should get us up to the surface but it’s gonna be a while. Hook your foreleg through a hole in my hind leg. I’ll lead the way. Ready?”

“No,” 99111 trembles but starts taking a deep breath again.

“AND THAT’S THE DRONE WAY!” 10013 grins and starts dragging itself under the water, fighting against the air inside its buoy form pulling it upwards.

The underwater darkness is so much worse than the simple lack of light in the tunnels. Where their bioluminescent eyes would normally cast enough light to achieve some direction, now it barely helps 10013 see the nearest surface to grab onto and pull.

Thankfully, the moment the duo drag themselves through the dug out hole, the direction in which the air inside them is pushing them changes, causing them to begin tumbling upwards along the side of the ship.

It takes all 99111’s effort not to scream as it loses direction and starts moving against its will, but 10013’s hind leg is there, the only thing keeping it from panicking again and this time drowning for sure.

Its lungs are burning, its head is throbbing, but eventually its ears pop along with a cacophony of noise assaulting it. Distant screaming, crashing waves…

…the roaring of wind and rain.

99111 opens its eyes and breathes in.

The ship is partially submerged on its side with a horrific vertical tear leading from the top deck all the way down and letting water inside.

I’m alive…

“We’re not done here, buddy,” 10013 senses that 99111 is barely remaining conscious against the onslaught of stress, “We gotta figure out what’s happening, where it’s safe, and how to get the others there!”

Day 3 - Storm: 10/11

36658 is sitting inside a toilet stall on the staff deck, its belly bloated with goop. It spits out a small green chunk into its hoof, examines it, sniffs it. licks it, ponders everything for a moment, then opens the toilet, flushes the goop down, and closes it again.

Next attempt.

When the ship suddenly rocks with a burst of noise nearby, the drone’s head rams directly into the porcelain toilet bowl.

Thankfully, changeling carapace is made exactly for situations like this, and where a cracked skull would stop a pony, 36658 wakes up on its back with a gasp a short while later and having slid across the tiles towards the wall. With a groan, it stands up, avoiding the shards of porcelain from the broken bowl.

Why is ‘up’ the wrong way?

“Guys?” it mentally calls out but winces as only chaos and pain enter through its link.

Ow ow ow ow…

It rubs its head, feeling the gash in its carapace. Its hive link seems to be working, somewhat, giving vague directions towards other drones. Unfortunately, it seems that any clear communication is out of the question for now.

“Whoah!” it takes a step through the now weirdly tilted room and quickly spreads its legs to support itself against the wall and the original floor, “Okay, this needs figuring out.”

“HELP!”

36658 blinks as the mental voice weaves itself through its link, causing only minimal discomfort and leaving behind a direction to follow. The weird part is that the voice is completely unidentified, something the drone has never felt before. Warriors, infiltrators, the Queen herself, everyone always left some kind of a mark, but this voice seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

“High Score?”

Receiving no answer, 36658 blinks, grits its teeth, and fights against another unexpected movement of the ship.

Heh. This is still nowhere near as bad as when I had to walk home after testing the sufferingobliterators for the first time. At least now everything I see is still there after I blink.

A splash of water comes out of the toilet which is beginning to fill up without any lever pulling or pushing this time. When it overflows, 36658 concludes it’s time to leave and flies into the air. Everything bad assaulting its senses stops. The ground being at weird angles stops bothering it and its strange movement stops causing problems for the drone’s inner ear.

Flying is the answer then. An exhausting answer but the perfect one.

Opening the door leading from the shared bathrooms into the corridor lets in a wave of water which, thankfully, hasn’t reached the ceiling yet but is rising at a quick pace. The normal bright lights have been replaced with red glow barely illuminating the area, which isn’t an issue for 36658, but the ponies trying to get out can’t have it easy. Without the dynamic hive mind map, all 36658 can do is follow the strange feeling which the unknown voice left behind, and ascend two decks above the heads of the ponies pushing through the stairs. Thanking its comparatively small size, 36658 ends up on the royals’ deck, still flying over ponies crawling across the floor- wall. The crowd, led by SECURITY ponies loudly screaming orders, thins out quickly as the evacuation progresses, leaving Gem stomping on a closed door which isn’t budging.

“Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!” she keeps cursing.

Seeing a familiar face clearly in need of help, 36658 approaches her, its wings buzzing.

“Can I help you?” it asks.

“The door is stuck! The cabin must be filled with water and I know a pony is still inside!” Gem gives the door an exasperated kick.

“I can dig through, but I’m not allowed to and I can’t contact any high ranks! Everything is weird and wrong!” 36658 looks from Gem to the door.

“I promise I’ll take any and all responsibility, but this is critical!” Gem grabs 36658 and squishes its cheeks, “Please, help me! These stupid royal doors are magically treated to be secure.”

The previous mental call flashes through 36658’s mind.

“You didn’t, by any chance, call me through my hive link, Miss Gem, did you? Can you zebras do that?”

“What?” she pauses, raising an eyebrow.

Must have been High Score giving me the opportunity to do something important and good!

“Nevermind,” 36658 takes a deep breath, its hoof flashes green, and the drone easily carves out a chunk of the door as if it was wet paper and pulls it out. Gem jumps through the opened hole and 36658 can hear a splash as she lands in the water almost immediately, “Is everything okay?”

“No, the window must have cracked!”

36658 sticks a head through the hole into the dark room, seeing Gem whose entire hind part is now a fish tail swim through the water.

She must be really good with magic potions to transform like that.

Watching Gem’s tail for a moment, 36658 jumps into the room and its hind legs transform into a similar shape. For some reason, it is easier than ever before and somehow comes with a set of instructions on how to use it which easily integrates itself into 36658’s mind. Some flapping later, the drone takes a deep breath and dives into the water on the other side of the room.

Almost immediately, it bumps into something soft and the faint blue glow of its eyes reflects off of white hair. Surfacing, it calls out:

“Something that we don’t have in our cabin is down here!”

In its next dive, 36658 finds it to be a pony in the process of being pulled out by Gem now above it. Their leg is stuck under the bed, though, so 36658 swims under it and digs away a chunk of the metal frame. The pony gets dragged out almost immediately after, and 36658 follows.

“No no no no no…” it hears Gem lament as she begins running her hooves over the pony, “There’s no way he can have been like that since the beginning… so… maybe a minute or two?” she takes a deep breath and blows air into the pony’s mouth before smacking her head with her own hoof, “No place to do a massage. Think better!”

“Can I hel-”

Gem looks at the drone, at the pony, then at the drone again. Suddenly, 36658’s mind feels a soft pressure locking out all its links and the fragmented and unintelligible chaos coming through the hive mind stops. 36658 notices the tiniest flash of green against the dark background, and Gem buries two fangs into the pony’s neck.

“You’re a changeling,” 36658 blinks in realization, “But how… why can’t I sense-”

“Not. Important!” Gem hisses at the drone with hostility not exactly fitting her, “Swim down and break the window completely, please. We must get him out no matter what!”

36658 glances at the white, blond-maned unicorn before nodding towards the hole in the door above them.

“No time to explain. I can’t risk anyone seeing me transform and I don’t know what I might have to do to get through the fleeing ponies,” Gem shakes her head, “I slowed down his body functions but-”

The ship lurches as something breaks in the distance with a loud creak of metal. 36658 and Gem have barely enough time to take a deep breath before the water rises over their heads and starts pouring into the hallway.

36658 dives down and digs the window out along with a chunk of wall. Gem bursts past, clearly much more used to the aquatic tailed form. Left alone, 36658 follows a faint feeling of direction left behind by Gem’s passing, manifesting itself as a thread of light to guide the drone blinded by the water. Its lungs are burning, but whether it’s the adrenaline or some unconscious property of the transformation, 36658 is not giving up until-

“GAAAAAH!”

-it breaks the surface and finally takes a deep breath of air. Using the tail to launch itself higher, it concentrates on its wings and begins following the bright thread upwards along the side of the cruise ship where it finds Gem and the pony tucked behind the wall of a building and out of sight. The “zebra” is pushing the pony’s chest in and breathing into his mouth in regular intervals, all the while counting. 36658 has no clue how to help but feels exhaustion wash over its body, the drone love reserves spent on a far too advanced transformation and self-healing.

So, the pony is a unicorn stallion, from what 36658 can see, and looks positively emaciated. However, even lying there on the deck, it’s clear that he is big, or would be without the starved look. His horn is longer than any the drone had seen before aside from the Queen herself and the soup princess, there are dark bags under his eyes, and-

-he starts coughing after another set of Gem’s ribcage presses.

Seeing that, Gem darts towards 36658 sitting with its back propped against a bolted down… piece of furniture. The drone’s mind is beginning to slip.

“Sorry for this, little guy,” she whispers, barely audible against the backdrop of waves, screaming, and rain.

“Huh? Iss okay… glad ta help…” slurs 36658, its mouth losing power as well.

“I know,” Gem smiles and boops the drone who goes limp, “But I can’t let Chrysalis find out about me.”

***

When 36658 comes to, it sits up, full of energy.

“Don’t you dare pull anything like this on me ever again! Do you have any idea how bad your aunt would take it?!” Gem’s nose is nearly touching the unicorn’s as she whispers furiously, “And don’t try to lie to me about this being an accident. You will get up and get to the lifeboats, and I know you will, because I’m going to go back down and try to save whoever I still can, but I will come back if you take a single wrong step and someone will die because I won’t be there for them! Do you have any idea how important you are?!”

“Not anymore…” the unicorn breathes out, “No one cares anymore. Thankfully,” he covers his face with his hoof.

“Yeah, you’re crying because you know that’s not true. You know who cares, and you know what? I care! Not about you but about your aunt and how she would feel if she lost you,” Gem suddenly looks at 36658, “Good, you’re awake.”

“Wh- what happened?” 36658 rubs its head, “I can’t remember… I was on the toilet and then… boom… and High Score talking to me… and water… that’s all.”

“You helped me save this idiot,” she jabs her hoof into the unicorn’s chest, “Don’t worry about not remembering it. It was all a mess and the mind sometimes pushes it away due to stress. If it was important, you’d remember. Hmm?”

“Heh, I guess,” 36658 smiles weakly, “What now?”

“Hey, HEY! 36658, where were you?!” it hears 10013’s mental voice inside its head along with flashing images, “There’s a bunch of ponies getting into much smaller boats of life over here. We’re LEAVING!”

“My buddy 10013 just called me and said there are boats of life a little further along the deck! They set up big nets that ponies can hang onto so they don't slip on the tilted floor!”

Gem nods, jabbing the unicorn again.

“Follow the drone and do what it says! You’ve run out of allowed screw-ups, private citizen Blueblood.”

Day 3 - Storm: 11/11

Smiley isn’t exactly sure where everything went wrong.

One moment, it’s sniffing and eating weird pony things. Next, there’s a friendly zebra hugging it. Finally, everyone splits up because they’re all tuckered out from everything that’s been happening.

Now there’s water everywhere, and it’s not the good water like back home which is scary only if there are rings on the surface or if it smells weird or… many other circumstances, but it’s still nice water if you’re careful. This is running water that made Smiley’s throat hurt when it tried to drink it.

Hanging onto the chandelier in the long, now weirdly tilted corridor on the royal deck, Smiley watches the slowly rising water, unsure what to do without any coherent hive link in reach.

What would the best number do? Walk on water, swim, or fly away.

Experimentally, Smiley spreads its wings. They seem to be working just fine, so where should it fly?

*Puzzled face.* *Puzzled face?*

Without any hive mind response, Smiley settles down on the chandelier. Maybe this is all part of this strange trip? After all, from what it saw, ponies had water in big indoor holes too, and they were swimming in those. Maybe they just filled this long tunnel so that they didn’t have to keep swimming from one side to the other over and over so often. Groups of swimming ponies passed by Smiley on occasion, but they looked busy and none of them paid the Silent any mind, so whatever’s happening wasn’t changeling business.

Smiley dips its foreleg in the water that has risen enough for it to reach. It’s nicely cold. If there’s one thing Smiley doesn’t like about this trip it’s how hot it is everywhere, unlike the tunnels back home. Granted, it feels great to curl up in the sun, but when it’s so hot everywhere that-

Huh. Maybe that’s why ponies kept jumping into the big water holes so often! Perhaps it should try it too when things stop being weird and tilted.

“Hey, there’s a changeling!” calls out a voice, “Why didn’t it follow the- oh, it’s Smiley.”

Zebra friend!

Smiley stops poking the water with its hooves and waves at Zemi wearing a weird, yellow, bubbly vest who immediately dives into the water from the stairwell and swims towards it.

Stopping under Smiley, she stands up on her hind legs while grabbing the wall for balance, which gives her enough height to keep her head above water, takes her life jacket off, and presents it to Smiley.

“Put it on like I did!” she shakes it in the air.

Smiley watches, tilting its head.

“Spirits damn it!” Zemi curses, taking the vest into her mouth. If there’s one thing she’d learned about ‘the weird drone’ today, it was that it’s more physical than verbal, so it pulls at Smiley’s hoof and beckons it to go to her.

Smiley unsteadily creeps around the chandelier until it faces Zemi directly and flies towards her outstretched forelegs until she grabs it and pulls it into a hug. With her back pressed against the wall, she quickly manages to put the life jacket on Smiley properly.

“Thanks for making this easy by not resisting. Now come on, the ship won’t last much longer,” Zemi pats Smiley’s head, lets go, and starts swimming back towards the stairwell, ”I must apologize to 1313 later. I thought he was just paranoid when he said even the security ponies would ignore changelings in trouble and sent us to sweep for anypony still stuck here.”

Confounded but amused by its newfound buoyancy, Smiley paddles its legs and follows her.

***

A fragment of 387’s mind is floating in darkness, deliberately severed from the rest of the world and anything that might interrupt its work. The warrior remembers clearly that he carried Chrysalis off into her suite, split up with 65536 in good spirits, checked up on 93, and then decided to go to sleep with the drones.

Like a movie reel, the next piece of his perfect changeling memory has been cut out. Not blurred or having its details changed, simply gone until he woke up stuffed behind maintenance piping. There’s nothing there to examine nor recover, just his brain -no, his entire neural network spread all over his changeling body- scrubbed clean. The only places for a closer look are the clean cuts.

Any clues he might have noticed when he woke up and didn’t take in at the moment due to confusion? Disturbed dust, scents, anything?

No. He was out for hours, so that’s understandable.

So what about before the cut?

Something made him decide against going to sleep there and then. What? Did he hear or see something?

The graphic reconstruction of his awareness state leaves 387 standing in a corridor with a hoof raised to open the drone cabin. 387 smirks. He clearly can’t find what is amiss, so how about what isn’t?

There isn’t anyone in the corridor, his warrior peripheral vision is granting him a good enough field of view. The ventilation shafts above him aren’t big enough for any creature to crawl through, and there are no holes in the floor under the carpet lining the entire hallway.

That means I either heard or smelled something. Smell could have been coming from anywhere due to the vents, so that line of thought won’t narrow this down. Alright, if I heard something that got erased, where could it come from?

Someone tampered with his mind to a great degree, that’s clear. He’s fairly certain that even Chrysalis still couldn’t do something like this and she had some experience with his unique primal changeling mind by now. And yet, the creature he must have followed did it on the first try, successfully, and including wiping his backups. Whoever it was, they were an absolute master of mental manipulation.

I wish I knew more about magic. What happened to me seems impossible to do through sheer mental skills, and I would laugh at anyone who would claim they could do it… before now. No, I can’t treat magic as an all-powerful answer. If it was, changelings all over Equestria would be having different problems, and if ponies can’t even do detection perfectly, mental manipulation is nowhere near the point of what happened to me.

So, that means…what?

Stairs!

Several potential puzzle pieces move the warrior’s theory ahead. The only places where he could have heard something unusual for that time of night were cabins or the stairs. Considering that he ended up down on the normally permanently locked maintenance deck, stairs are much more likely. The staircase is made of metal and not carpeted. He must have heard someone and followed them down.

Along with a stab of pain, a tiny bit of 387’s memory returns, revealing a flash of him descending the staircase.

Heh. I was wrong. They didn’t only cut out a chunk of my memories, they were much more delicate and tried to cut themselves out at the frayed edges of the missing timeline. Why, though? The result would have been the same.

387 concentrates on the final memory. A tiny piece is missing from the visual. He saw something from the corner of his eye just as he rounded a floor, something which is now the missing piece. The shape is round and slightly frayed. What could it be?

The metaphorical floating of 387’s separated mental fragment gets interrupted by…

…actual floating?

He should be completely insulated from the outside world right now, so why…?

Oh no…

387’s eyes shoot open and, as a warrior, he’s immediately fully aware of his surroundings, namely the fact that he’s floating in water with the outer layer of his carapace soft and porous like pumice and gills on his neck.

The ship is sinking. Drones? Natural causes?

Immediately, he checks his hive links and finds them crippled, exhausted, and unable to contact anyone. Thankfully, he can at least sense the others, all but one…

The vital one, unfortunately, as little as he would want to admit it.

Chrysalis?

The absence of Chrysalis’ link in his mind doesn’t bode well. 387 swaps his reflexive pumice transformation for flippers on all four legs and swims out of the suite, going as fast as he can towards the stairs to the royal deck. All doors on this floor are open and brief glances into the cabins reveal no drowning or drowned creatures, which hints at the possibility that 387 has woken up during the late stages of passenger evacuation.

Stairs up cleared, 387 enters the royal deck where the water is reaching only to his neck, and notices the only closed door on this floor which, to his mounting horror, is Chrysalis’ suite.

Hive damn it! If she drowned because of Luna’s spell I’ll be so pissed. Laughing at the sheer stupidity of it all, but pissed.

Unlike with Gem, this magically reinforced door doesn’t survive the furious onslaught of a love-empowered warrior who punches a hole in the section that’s still above water and breaks the rest off.

Chrysalis is sitting on top of a wardrobe with a scowl on her face showing her fangs.

“Took you long enough!” she snarls at 387.

“I got my brain blended by someone better than you and I only just woke up. What’s YOUR excuse?!” he shoots back.

“I can’t transform or contact anyone, probably thanks to Luna and that traitorous little drone spawn, and the door was locked!”

“Did you lose your key or something?” sneers 387.

“I woke up only when I swallowed water, you moron, and I could barely control my legs. It’s a miracle I even managed to crawl up here!” growls Chrysalis.

“Hop on my back,” 387 rolls his eyes, swimming over to the wardrobe “And promise you won’t call 65536 a traitor again. I checked its head to see what happened between you two and that one’s on you.”

Carefully, Chrysalis pushes herself onto 387’s back and locks her forelegs around his neck.

“I am its Queen no matter what it- blbulublublublu!” she swallows water when 387 dives down into the filling corridor. When he surfaces, Chrysalis spits out a wad of goop and water and rasps, “WHAT THE FUCK?!”

“I told you not to speak badly of 65536,” 387 snickers, “If there’s a drone who doesn’t deserve it it’s that guy. It speaks to its loyalty that it even bothered to warn you before you shoved your brain into a mental equivalent of a cement mixer filled with broken glass and angry cats.”

“FINE!” Chrysalis growls, “I won’t do anything to it and I’ll let it visit the hive this winter again, stupid red costume and everything. Screw it if it asks me to wear that glowing red nose again, though, no amount of wibbling is going to make me do it!”

“But you were such a cute reindeer!” says 387 innocently, finally getting to the stairs and running upwards to the main deck.

“I will bite your head off and use your overblown ego as a floating device!”

“You’re the one to talk about ego. How could you even think that stealing a ticket to this cruise would be something we wouldn’t figure out?”

“What?”

“Don’t try to pull this shit on me! 10013 talked to 1313 who confirmed he didn’t invite us here and that his invitation got stolen.”

“So? How does that involve me? Our ticket was addressed to us, not that living Build-your-own-changeling project.”

“For the love of the hive, Chrysalis, I’m going to need you to be honest for once in your life! Did you have someone steal 1313’s invitation and use it to get on this cruise?”

“Warriors…” Chrysalis rolls her eyes, “Yes, sure, I definitely did all that, then I made sure everyone on the guest list would be okay with us AND that we’d have our own cabins. No, you idiot. I saw a chance and I took it.”

“Holes damn it! Then who would want us here and why? And why did you take the drones instead of warriors and infiltrators for safety?”

“You wanna know why? Because they deserved it more than anyone else. Did you know that 36658 beat a timberwolf pup to death when it attacked 57999 at my poppy patch? It had to eat half of its own stash not to feel the pain of having two of its legs ripped off and crushed organs and it still lived when 57999 dragged it halfway across the Badlands before a ranked changeling caught its call for help. 10013 has been ignoring my break time rule to teach the newly hatched how to deal with tunnel horrors. 20100 invented the basic pictograms that cover the walls of their little ‘shrine’. Those are not just random pictures, in case you didn’t notice. This is their reward, some time to rest, relax, and see something new which they, as experienced veterans whom the other drones listen to, can communicate to others. I admit I picked the new guys at random, but they’re here so that the newborn back home can believe someone with the same circumstances as them.”

“And… Smiley?” the admission hits 387 like a hammer.

“Good luck charm,“ Chrysalis grins, ”Oh don’t look at me like that! I was wondering if some fresh interactions could serve as a mental recovery tool.”

Security ponies are spread out over the top deck and one begins waving a glowing flashlight in the air shortly after a small ball of chitin rushes towards the duo.

“OVER HERE!” 10013 calls out, “LIFEY BOATS THIS WAY! STICK TO THE NETS!”

With a breath of relief, 387 carries Chrysalis towards the raised front of the ship where ladders have been set up leading down to a floating yellow raft full of ponies. Many more are dotting the sea ahead, connected by ropes, while a lightweight web of thinner ropes spreads to the side to which ponies who didn’t fit on the lifeboats are clinging while wearing life jackets. The warrior obviously doesn’t believe that Chrysalis would just blurt out everything even when she’s not feeling exactly well, but it is something.

“10013, does your hive linking work?”

“Yup!”

“Is everyone accounted for?”

10013 points towards the webbing with only dozens of life jackets being visible against the black, late evening sea. With enough concentration, 387 spots a group of strangely puffy drones wearing even puffier yellow vests while bobbing on the surface of the water with their legs hooked on the webbing.

“Yes, they are! There wasn’t enough space in the lifey boats for anyone but 93 and 65536 because the SECURITY ponies couldn’t get to those on the underwater side of the ship, so they gave all the guys big, yellow floaties that keep us from sinking! 36658 is holding an extra one for me. Oh, and Smiley got two because we couldn’t teach it the floaty form in time.”

“Good job!” 387 nods approvingly, squinting at Smiley who has one lifejacket hooked around its forelegs and one more around its hind legs, “Really good job.”

After dropping Chrysalis off on the nearest lifeboat, the warrior joins in scouring the boat for anyone stuck. Eventually, Glorious Quest accompanied by Sun Hammer announce that everyone is safe, and the procession of boats starts drifting away from the cruise ship with the floaters in tow.

Author's Note

And that's day 3 done. As always, feel free to point out what can be improved upon and I'll try to not get too defensive about it.

As for the general status update - I still haven't written much over the past weeks, and I got a new job offer that's been stressing me out and eating what little mental resilience I have. In the end, I decided to take it because it's not far from where I'm working now and the money would be really good. Of course, training my successor (or whatever it's called in English in a corporate environment) and preparing for the new job over the next month and a half will eat even more time, so I have no idea how much I'll be writing. I have a part of day 4 done and, in my head, not every day will be as long as it was so far.

So, as always, thanks for reading and participating. It means a lot even if I can't always figure out a funny-ish answer.

Day 4 - Shipwrecked?: 1/7

Standing on a beach beset by now emptied lifeboats, Glorious Quest shoots out a flare from his horn which draws the attention of the exhausted crowd of cruise members spread far and wide. Stars, aside from a couple unicorns who still have enough strength to maintain faint floating and shimmering balls, are the only source of light, but over the past hours on the boats they left the storm behind so at least the summer night is warm again and the lack of shelter won’t be an immediate problem.

“I wish to congratulate you on your resilience, dear guests!” Quest’s voice, presumably amplified by magic, reaches even the farthest groups of creatures which includes Chrysalis and her changelings, “Now rest, please. Quest Security specialists are trained, among other things, in wilderness survival, so there’s little that can surprise us. We are going to secure this part of the beach for the night. The coordinates of the cruise ship have been noted and an expedition will eventually be mounted to recover everything of importance.”

“We have no food!” someone calls out.

“Don’t worry!” Quest’s tone remains positive and encouraging, “Judging by our trajectory, there is a reasonable chance that we landed on the Ataraki island itself or on a neighboring island belonging to the archipelago. As soon as daylight breaks, we’ll send out pegasus scouts to see how far we are and to inform the resort staff about our situation. They’ll no doubt send a ship our way and while we’re waiting, my guards will secure some fruit, water, and shelter. We’ll get through this, and the day after tomorrow at worst all this will be just a bad memory.”

Sighs of relief can be heard all over the place before Quest clears his throat again and finishes his speech with:

“One warning, however! You shouldn’t move away from the beach. The jungle ahead can be dangerous, so just stay here, enjoy the sounds of the sea, and go to sleep. You earned it.”

He removes the voice amplification spell and starts giving orders to a group of SECURITY ponies who hear him out and scatter among the cruise guests.

As time passes, more light sources appear - the golden light of the paladin group, green glimmer of 1313’s horn reflecting off of his striped companions, a makeshift torch shimmering with dim white light which Gem stuck into the sand, and Chrysalis’ horn as well. Gradually, however, they all fade as the respective parties go to sleep, leaving only Sun Hammer, easily visible due to her pattern of shimmering scars, and Quest Security ponies patrolling around the edge of the jungle.

As for the hive changelings - 387 curls up on his own, 93 a few hooves away between him and Chrysalis while the Queen mentally orders 99526, who is the naturally chubbiest right now due to its involuntary bloating, to curl up under her head as a pillow.

“If you throw up all over my head, I promise I’ll spend this entire trip designing a new crusher just for you and shove you there legs first so that you have time to watch.”

“Eep!” 99526 shifts under her head as it shoves both forelegs in front of its mouth.

The rest of the drones pile up on each other. High Score-related hostilities or not, certain traumatic experiences can only be solved with a proper pile.

***

The light of the late morning finds the vast majority of cruise passengers still asleep, exhausted from the ordeal of last night. The only awake creatures are several Quest Security guards now busy with constructing basic shelter along the border of the jungle. Well, them and the veteran drones who are so used to having a set sleepy time that this level of exhausting trauma still isn’t enough to break the habit. Besides, how much worse can the stress of simple drowning really be compared to the old days?

Said veterans are now sitting by the sea, enjoying the warmth of the sun before it gets too hot around noon as the soft waves gently splash around their hooves.

“-I wanted to run in to look for anyone still stuck but the SECURITY ponies told me to stay on the deck instead and show anyone trying to escape where to go,” 10013 finishes recounting its experience from last night.

“Aww, poor 99111,” 20100 nods knowingly, “I still remember completely freezing up during my first cave-in. Thankfully, I was with 13415 who bit my ear so hard it snapped me out of it and I could run again.”

“Maybe if 99111 believed in High Score a little more, it would help it like it must have helped me,” 36658 grumbles, “I have no clue what happened, but there I was - helping Miss Gem pull out some Blueblood pony through a hole in the ship and then fly him up on the deck. A big pony too, even though he was super skinny. I think he’s not getting enough of what the pony equivalent of proper love is. It sounded like he was important to Miss Gem.”

“You have no idea how right you are, buddy,” 65536 sighs, “I’m not sure how much I’m allowed to tell you so I’ll keep it simple. Mister Blueblood used to be a super important pony but he did a lot of bad things and now he’s, uhh, down on his luck. Pretty badly. Imagine like… rank 10, right? And they get demoted aaaaaall the way down to our drone status.”

“Oh no!” 10013’s jaw drops.

“Yup. No love, no status, not good at digging,” 65536 shakes its head, “Terrible stuff. But Miss Gem believes that learning how to be a proper drone can make him appreciate what pony high ranks have and become a better pony as a result. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to be working too well…”

“Ohhhhhh,” 36658 smacks its forehead, “That’s why she was trying to make anti-sad pills! The… shallow hole drugs.”

“Depression?” 65536 hazards a guess.

“Yup, that thingy!” 36658 nods.

“I see,” 65536 shrugs, “Well, if she thinks it’s a good idea she must have a reason. She’s super smart.”

“Can we help somehow?” asks 36658, “I worked with her all day and it didn’t look as if we got anywhere but she gave me a few anguishdecimators to experiment with anyway. Nice lady. Weird but nice.”

“Who is?” asks 93, approaching the group.

“Miss Gem, the zebra who gave me the anguishdecimators you took for your… uhh… overhang?” explains 36658.

“Hangover, yes,” 93 nods.

“Speaking of which, are you okay? You looked terrible earlier,” asks 65536 with genuine care in its voice which prompts curious looks from other drones. As an explanation, 65536 adds, “I dug her out of her room when the water rose up enough to block the door.”

“I got so drunk I couldn’t transform at all,” 93 sighs, sitting down, furthering the surprise of the drones, “And the doors of the good suites are- were much more secure than the planks of wood they used for your cabins.”

“Can we do that?” asks 36658, “Miss Gem suggested I should try some alcohol to mix into some version of agonyslayers, not sure what to call those yet. But I didn’t feel any different after drinking something called… whiss-key.”

“Heh,” 93 chuckles, “The Queen asked me to try things to figure out what I enjoy so I found some ponies playing cards and drinking, and transformed my insides to metabolize alcohol to complete the experience. I’m hesitating to try it ever again,” she rubs her temples.

“You don’t know what you like?” asks 10013, “I mean, we drones have it easy but I thought you top ranks kinda already tried everything in the pony world and know everything.”

93 bursts out laughing for a moment before quickly lowering her voice and looking around in case she woke anyone up.

“My case is… a little different,” she says, “But the Queen expressly forbade me to go into detail so all I can say is that I didn’t have a lot of exposure to the outside world before this trip. I visited several places but I didn’t have that much time to spend there,” she pokes 10013, “You’re older than me, little guy.”

“Wooooow,” 10013 processes the information before looking up into 93’s eyes, “Wait, that means you got to be the hive’s current top rank in such a short time? That’s amazing!”

“It’s more complicated than that,” 93 pats 10013’s head, “Anyway, enough about me. I was stuck, 65536 got me out of the ship. That’s all,” she looks sideways at carefully approaching 99380, curious about what’s going on but unwilling to interrupt a high rank when she’s talking, “How did you get to the lifeboats?” she gestures at the drone to sit next to her.

“Me?” 99380 does so, “I didn’t do anything special, really. I was in the workshop with 99526. We were trying to figure out a way to use the crazy amount of goop 99526 was producing after eating all we could thanks to 20100’s chippies. 99111 helped Miss Trixie fix a door with goop earlier so we thought someone could use 99526’s, uhh, overflow,” it points towards the drone in question still serving as a pillow for sleeping Chrysalis, although now being held like a small spoon with her forelegs, “There was a bunch of ponies fixing stuff there so I think we had the right idea. Then the big boom happened and everything shook,” 99380 whimpers, “What was that anyway?”

“No idea,” 10013 shrugs, “I was on the observation platform when, out of nowhere, the side of the ship blew up.”

“We’ll see when the other guests wake up and the ship’s crew investigates,” says 93, “Right now we should be happy that no one drowned. Considering how many creatures there were, that's a small miracle. Keep going, 99380.”

“There isn’t that much to say, really,” the drone shrugs, “The door got stuck and we couldn’t get out. The Bright Star pony who helped us in the casino said that the blast shields and magic wards activated and that the workshop was heavily protected in case of an accident happening inside. Oh, and they were all really angry when the shaking made 99526 throw up into the water and it started spreading. Anyway, when the water got too high, Bright Star made air bubbles appear around everyone’s heads and said we had to hope someone will come for us because the spell couldn’t keep us breathing indefinitely. I told him that we could dig through but that 387 would get really angry with us if we made holes in the ship and Bright Star said he would explain things to anyone who might be mad at us because the ship was sinking already,” 99380 shudders.

“What?” 93 pulls the drone to her side, “If you’re worried about 387, he won’t do anything. You didn’t sink the ship and that’s what he was worried about. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“N-No,” 99380 mumbles, “When I dug through the wall where Mister Bright Star told me, some creatures started yelling at me that I was an idiot for not doing it sooner… and other really mean things.”

“You know what?” 93 grabs the drone under its armpits and makes it look up at her, “When we’re safer, tell me who yelled at you and-” she lowers her voice, “-they’ll have a little accident.”

“What? No!” 99380 shakes its head, “We can’t be mean! We gotta make sure they all see that we’re not the baddies anymore.”

“Of course,” 93 smirks, “I’m thinking something secret and funny, not violent. A simple prank.”

“Can we run it by 387 first?” 99380 clearly isn’t persuaded.

“Definitely! And we’ll only do it if he agrees, okay?”

*Nod nod nod!*

“Perfect,” 93 smiles, “So, you dug a hole and then you all swam out?”

“Yup!” 99380 nods, “I’m happy everyone is okay. So, uhh, what are we doing during this worky time?”

Everyone looks at 93.

“I don’t know about any orders for you,” she shrugs.

Everyone looks at 10013. The drone breathes in, looks around, and breathes out. The framework regarding how the world works that’s slowly building inside its mind is making decisions easier.

“We do what we always do!”

“Dig?”

“Carry?”

“Make goop?”

“Make agonyslayers?”

“Protect the nice ponies!”

“Not you, 65536, you’ve got your own thing these days.”

“Awww, I wanted to feel like a part of the buggy squad.”

“We help,” states 10013 in the end, “Anywhere and everywhere we can.”

Day 4 - Shipwrecked?: 2/7

The afternoon has rolled in, and the passengers are now lining the shady edge of the jungle with only several of them swimming in the sea. Quest Security specialists are still continuing to build makeshift shade from the smaller trees either cut down or pilfered for leaves. From the perspective of the drones, the SECURITY ponies were too busy and any offer of help was rejected, so they spent the morning mostly observing. So far, even with the guests awake and occasionally chatting about the haunting memories from the night, the opportunity to help hasn’t arrived, but to the curious drones all it means is more time to examine the effort in progress.

10013, being “the drone in charge”, came to the conclusion that to improve its in-charge-ability it should observe other “chargers”. The Queen didn’t like it staring at her, though, and told it to bugger off, so it decided that finding the second biggest charger could be interesting, and finally it did. The pony discussing things with everyone, giving orders, and overall organizing work proved to be Glorious Quest, currently busy arguing with a unicorn about whom the hive mind has no information.

“You can’t be serious!” huffs the unknown unicorn indignantly, “Do you have any idea about the amount of security checks the ship went through before undocking?”

“I do, Captain,” Quest sighs, “My staff performed most of the non-technical ones and the paladins did the rest. Do you have a better explanation than a lightning rod failing and lightning striking the side of the ship? Besides, why are you so concerned? I heard that Celestial Sea Cruises does have a seriously generous insurance policy.”

“It’s about reputation!” objects the captain, “We do proper checks and hire the best engineers. You don’t get government contracts just by yelling really loudly,” the Captain sneers, “But what would you know about that? I have no idea who you had to blow for your second-rate agency to get this job.”

Quest’s eye twitches.

“Captain, I understand this is a tough time for you but I advise you to be more careful with your words. Your usual security company refused the contract due to the amount of attending changelings, because they were worried about their lack of ability to contain them in case they caused trouble.”

“And you assumed you could contain them? Don’t make me laugh,” the Captain rolls his eyes, “Who’s to say they’re not behind this?”

10013 shuffles into a bush.

“Behind the lightning strike? Possibly, but probably not, to both your concerns,” Quest smirks, shrugging, “I’m just not worried as much, that’s all. Everything in life is a gamble, but I can understand that a mercenary and a paper-pusher would see stability differently.”

“We’ll see once the investigators search the wreck,” huffs the Captain.

“See what? Lightning strike? Changelings… existing? Sabotage?” Quest chuckles, “Rest up, Captain. The pegasi have confirmed we’re really on the main island of the peninsula and I sent a party to the resort already. A ship will pick us up late in the evening at worst. You’ll be sleeping in a real bed tonight after a proper dinner and things will look better in the morning.”

Neat! I should tell the Queen.

Spurred on by the good news, 10013 stops hiding and walks past, immediately earning an irritated glance from the Captain and causing a break in the conversation. Due to the Queen’s link still being damaged for reasons the high ranks refused to tell the drones, 10013 opts for taking a walk along the beach instead of mentally searching for someone closest to the Queen to inform her quickly.

***

99380’s exploration of the beach happenings leads it to 99111 sitting just on the edge of the still dry sand where the tide can’t reach, staring ahead. An exploratory touch of 99111’s hive link makes 99380 shudder with strangeness, so it pokes 99111’s shoulder instead.

“Is everything okay, buddy?”

“No, actually,” 99111 twitches at the touch, “My head isn’t working around water.”

“Huh? How come?”

After 99380 sits down, 99111 recaps what happened when 10013 saved it yesterday from drowning inside the heretic cabin.

“-and so I came here to try to do something similar to what 10013 said it should do - to face my fears,” 99111 kicks the sand, “And… I just can’t do it. Every time I step into the water, I just freeze up and can’t think of anything other than being underwater and drowning. Even just the smell is making my legs shake,” 99111 sighs and hangs its head.

“Hmmm, I think I know how you feel,” says 99380.

“Oh?”

“I’m the same way whenever I look at that Sun Hammer lady. My legs turn to jelly and all I want is to run away. It’s as if I was reporting directly to the Queen that I didn’t meet my worky time quota a bunch of days in a row. I kinda feel like I failed too badly to fix it and that another drone will have to take up my slack in addition to its own work and that I’ll be sent to that crusher thingy the veterans always talk about.”

“Any ideas on how to deal with it? I can’t just… turn into a lump whenever water is involved. What if I need to fly over a puddle with ringy chompers back home?”

“Maybe, but so far, I’ve just been avoiding her as best as I could. It’s not as if we had a reason to look her up.”

99111 sighs.

“Something… I wish I could at least do something. I don’t need to swim, I just need to transform into the floaty form, and I can’t do even that anymore,” it stands up, takes several steps forward, but when the tide rises and the water touches its hoof, it scuttles back to 99380.

“Hmmm,” 99380 hums, “As I said, I think I have an idea, but you gotta stay here and promise you won’t get mad.”

“Ummm, okay?” 99111 tilts its head.

99380 runs off, its legs spraying sand behind it.

***

“Hello, Your Queenliness! Are you feeling better?”

Chrysalis groans when 65536’s chipper voice reaches her ears and two small shadows fall on her. Having to concede that her brutalized mind may, potentially, in some miniscule regard be her own fault, she doesn’t snap at 65536 and 10013 standing over her and opts instead for a marginally friendlier response in:

“What do you want?”

“Aww,” 65536 pouts, “I’m sorry, but-”

“I know. My fault,” Chrysalis grunts and repeats, “What do you want?”

65536 nudges 10013.

“Umm, we made you this,” 10013 plants a beach umbrella made of sticks and large leaves into the sand, all glued together with goop.

“Okay, what did you do?” Chrysalis sits up, suddenly suspicious, “This all feels extremely apologetic,”she lowers her voice into a whisper, “You did somehow sink the ship, didn’t you?”

The drones exchange glances.

“Umm, nope? I saw you on the first day around the pool and you looked like you really liked these umbrella thingies, so 65536 helped me make one. It doesn’t fold or anything, but it’s shady,” 10013 shrugs and sits down, “I asked 65536 about storms and about what I saw and it said it would be a good idea to tell you.”

Chrysalis raises an eyebrow, glancing at 65536, while the table of points receives an update and allows access to 65536 in addition to all hive drones.

[10013:1, 20100:4, 36658:3, 99111:2, 99380:3, 99526:0, Smiley: :-) :-) :-) :-) :-),

65536:1]

“I’m listening,” she says.

“How does lightning work?” asks 10013, “I saw a whole bunch of flashing while I was on the roof of the entertainment complex, but I didn’t see any of the flashes hit the ship. Earlier, though, I heard the head SECURITY pony talking with someone he called Captain, and saying the lightning rods failed. 65536 told me those make lightning go away somehow. I… didn’t exactly understand it,” it gives an apologetic smile to 65536.

“Neither do I, really,” the Nightguard drone shrugs.

“So what did you see?” asks Chrysalis, narrowing her eyes.

“Well, a lightning flashed a short distance away from the ship and then the side blew up like when we mixed 99854’s goop with 99311’s to reinforce tunnel x559ss-dd458,” says 10013, “Does that lightning thingy have to hit something to break it or can the sound that always follows do it too?”

Chrysalis lies down on her back again, leaving her head in the shade cast by the umbrella and exposing the rest of her body to the sun.

“Report this to 387 and tell him I sent you. He can dig through your head, I can’t do it right now thanks to this id- drone’s fortress-level mental protection,” she nods towards 65536.

“Alrighty!” 65536 salutes with a smile and 10013 amateurishly mimics it before they scamper off again.

***

“Hey,” hears 99111 and turns away from the ebb and flow of the sea to face approaching 36658, “99380 told me you needed help with your head.”

“Oh…” 99111 frowns, “That’s why it said to promise I wouldn’t get mad,” it ponders simply turning around again, but what’s the worst that can happen, really? “I can’t swim, I can’t transform to be able to swim,” it nods towards the sea, “The water makes me freak out whenever I try, and I don’t want to be a threat to our survival in case we have to swim again.”

“Gotcha. Yeah, that happens. Trauma is tough to get through without help. I get the same around skittering swarmers,” says 36658, which makes 99111 look up in surprise again, “What?”

“I… didn’t think you’d share that with me since we’re… you know.”

“We’re drones, that’s the beginning and end of everything,” says 36658 firmly, “The world is stacked against us. We may disagree but in the end we stick together no matter what,” it sighs when 99111 keeps staring, dumbfounded, “You newbies would have benefited from meeting High Score so much.”

“This again?”

“Here!” says 36658 aggressively, scowling, opening its leg hole, and offering 99111 the same pill it gave 93 yesterday, leaving it only with three, “I can’t make more of these, they’re too difficult, so eat it and listen to me,” when 99111 swallows it, taken aback by the sudden oppressive presence of 36658, the drug drone continues, “I don’t know what to say or how to show you how stupid you’re being. Drones. Stick. Together. High Score didn’t invent that, obviously, but it did much more than anyone else I’ve ever known to help others. Now you’re here, staring at me like an idiot because I’m following the main rule you don’t understand and act all huffy about. Do you newbies really need to live through the misery we did to understand how easy it is to die? I preach about High Score to convey our experiences, something you guys need to understand can happen even though right now we drones are safer and healthier than EVER before.”

“Experiences like its ability to bite through a fizzy tangler’s tentacles?” objects 99111, suddenly feeling somewhat strange but more… able to concentrate? Less worried? Something along those lines.

“You’re still focusing on the fun part of the story instead of the message,” 36658 shakes its head and sighs, “And I’m getting dragged into a stupid conversation instead of getting to what’s important… again,” it smacks the side of its head rather forcefully, “Look, are you feeling better? Take a few steps into the sea, I’ll catch you if your legs fail.”

No matter the sudden shift in conversation and their differences, 99111 senses only absolute truth from 36658’s link, and takes a deep breath before walking towards the approaching wave.

The water washes over its hooves, making it tremble, but for once it doesn’t flee immediately and remains standing there, breathing heavily as its heartbeat thunders in its ears.

“Breathe,” is all 36658 says, standing next to it.

“Do you… do you really feel the same around skittering swarmers?” asks 99111.

“Yep. High Score saved me last time I got caught in their webs, and that was on the surface and against harmless swarmers. I saw them a few times during sunny time in the forest near my poppy patch. 57999 grabbed one and let it crawl over itself to show me they’re not dangerous but I still kept freaking out. It took me a long time to get to the point where I don’t panic or freeze up.”

“D-Do you use agonyslayers for that too?”

“Not anymore,” 36658 shakes its head, “Just understanding and repeated exposure. My agonyslayers helped only very little but it was a start. These anguishdecimators Miss Gem mixed up are the result of her trying to affect the head in a different way than I do and since they helped 93 who wasn’t hurt physically but in here,” it taps its head, “I figured they might work for you.”

“Heheh,” 99111 chuckles nervously, “I don’t think I can visit her whenever I need to jump over a puddle.”

“Yeah, that’s why you need to use this chance to train,” 36658 shoves 99111 forward. The drone trips and, as it keels forward against the wave, transforms on instinct into the buoy form.

Eyes bulging, breathing heavily, and stuttering out a mix of angry and shocked-

“Grumblegrumblegrumble!”

-99111 takes a few moments of the current carrying it off before it safely paddles back towards 36658.

“What? Why?” it faces the veteran drone.

“Tough love,” 36658 grins, “High Score wouldn’t approve, but I’m not perfect like it was,” it sits down, “Go float around while the pill lasts to get used to the water. Transform back and forth. Do anything you can to get better at swimming. I’ll be here in case anything happens.”

99111 takes a deep breath.

“I… I still don’t like your methods.”

“Be better. Help others to be better. Do it today because there’s no guarantee you’ll see tomorrow,” says 36658, mostly to itself, before adding sharply, “You’re wasting my anguishdecimator.”

“R-Right!” 99111 turns around and walks into the shallow water again.

Day 4 - Shipwrecked?: 3/7

99380 has to admit it’s feeling a little anxious about sending 36658 to 99111, but it has to admire 99111’s novel concept of facing its fears. Drones normally don’t face their fears, because their fears are monsters capable of killing them in a myriad of painful ways, and the only way to survive in the tunnels is to face the other way and flee as quickly as a drone can. A surviving drone is one who learned to watch out for the telltale signs of various fears and successfully managed to avoid meeting the source of fear itself on painfully too often repeated occasions.

Despite that, 99380 is now carrying its own makeshift umbrella made from leaves and sticks, less and less sure why it’s doing it with every step, towards the trio of paladins resting in the shade. It barely even registers Ten and Bright Star watching it as it shuffles towards Sun Hammer, shaking more and more. The massive mare, in contrast, seems busy repeatedly scribbling something into the sand with a levitating stick. To 99380, it looks vaguely familiar to the shape of the hive mind map of the cruise ship.

The stick suddenly flicks through the air, and 99380 locks up, unable to make a sound, when she hears her quietly mumble:

“-force focused outwards. Which cabins-?”

“Acting Grandmaster? I believe you have a visitor,” says Ten, sitting up straight from his previously slouched position against a tree.

“I’d try being a little less intense, Acting Grandmaster, or we might have a repeat of this year’s recruitment day,” Bright Star snickers, forelegs crossed under his head and watching the sea.

Hearing that, 99380 breathes out in relief:

“Acting Grandmaster? Oh holes! Did I get the wrong pony? Miss Acting, do you know someone by the name Sun Hammer? Looks exactly like you but a lot bigger and spookier.”

Sun Hammer sits up, which makes her easily twice 99380’s size, and the drone realizes it made a huge mistake.

F-F-F- Face. F-F- Fear.

“Isforyou!” it stretches out a trembling foreleg with the flimsy umbrella stuck in a leg hole, staring ahead at Sun Hammer’s chest and not daring to look upwards at her face.

Sun Hammer leans in to examine 99380 up close, making the drone whimper and its eyes tear up.

“You’re the ice cream one, aren’t you?” she asks in a carefully measured voice. The stick levitating around her traces several lines along 99380’s carapace, “The pattern of scars is unique, and your carapace is chipped here and here,” the stick taps behind 99380’s ear and left hind thigh, “I won’t hurt you, so stop shaking and explain why you’re here. Is there a problem?”

“Shade!” is all 99380 blurts out, jabbing its umbrella hoof towards Sun Hammer again.

Her face goes blank.

“Sunny, I think you have a not so secret admirer and they brought you a present,” Bright Star’s telekinesis deftly catches the stick thrown his way like a crossbow bolt.

Ten gasps, looking in horror from Sun Hammer to Bright Star who rolls his eyes and casually tosses the stick back to Sun Hammer.

“We’re off duty, Ten. Pull that stick out of your ass,” in a whisper that only the two present changelings can hear, he adds, “...you’re worse than Sunny. At least she’s just unaware…”

“You… brought me… a parasol?” asks Sun Hammer slowly, “Why?”

“Umm- I- well- High Score once told 10013 something about, umm, facing your fears… and then 10013 told 99111 about it when it saved 99111 from drowning… and then 99111 told me about it… and I thought it was, umm, impressive and… I thought High Score would like us drones to be, uhh, better like 36658 always says,” 99380 wipes its eyes, “And 10013 and 65536 made an umbrella thingy for the Queen and she seemed to like it, so I made one for you. It’s not as big and I couldn’t find the right leaves but-”

Sun Hammer’s stick gets plucked out of her telekinesis by Bright Star’s, and it writes ‘say thank you’ in the air in smoky letters visible only for a brief moment.

“Thank you,” says Sun Hammer. When 99380 looks up in surprise and its face brightens up, the not socially awkward paladin breathes out a sigh of relief, “but I have to refuse.”

“...so close… ” Bright Star facehoofs.

“That’s okay…” 99380 hangs its head, “I’ll try harder next time.”

“You misunderstood me,” Sun Hammer shoots a glare at Bright Star before the full force of her look lands on 99380 whose head is tucked between its shoulder blades and ears splayed back, “This shape is inconvenient, that’s all,” she telekinetically lifts the umbrella, careful not to tug at 99380 along with it, breaks off the handle, and leaves it floating over 99380’s head like a hat, “Much better,” she says, scratching the drone behind the ear, “Don’t worry about me. This temperature doesn’t hinder me at all. I advise you to keep this one for yourself if you intend to walk around in the sun. Heat stroke is no laughing matter and you changelings are at risk because black color absorbs the most of sunlight. I can point out some leaves for you to use as a source of liquids to stay hydrated if you need.”

“I- thanks- thank you,” 99380 stutters out.

“Sunny appreciates your bravery,” Bright Star butts in, “We had three new recruits faint this year when she looked at them, so if this is all just about facing your fears then good job.”

99380 finally allows itself an exhausted smile.

“Phew…” it wipes its forehead, “But I still… I kinda wanted to give you the umbrella Miss Acting Sunny, but since you gave it to me I now faced my fear and got a hat and you got nothing out of this. Can I help you somehow? It just doesn’t feel right and dronelike to not be helpful.”

“Unless you know whose cabins numbers 121 through 124, 221 through 224, 321 through 324, and so on were on the ship I doubt you can help,” Sun Hammer’s stick pokes the sand in several places in her picture.

“We can ask for the cabin assignment once we get to the resort, Acting Grandmaster,” says Ten, “There’s no point in guesswork and-”

99380 smiles and its eyes light up.

“Oh, this was next to the kitchen where 36658 and 20100 helped out! It’s just storage space,” it interrupts Ten, “But you’ve got the floor plan wrong. There should be stairs up here,” it pokes Sun Hammer’s picture before turning around and facing three pairs of suddenly extremely interested eyes, “Uhh, I’m not 20100, but I can draw a bit too.”

“Oh? Please, keep going,” Sun Hammer’s tone grows much more curious but 99380, happy that it’s being useful, doesn’t notice.

***

Hiding from the barely moving sun under a tree deeper in the jungle but within a clear line of sight of the beach, 387 eats a piece of unknown fruit rationed by a Quest Security member and follows it by chewing on a plump, hoof-sized leaf serving as a source of water.

He doesn’t particularly need the physical food nor the muted atmosphere due to the good old love-eating and the ability to simply turn his ears off, but it feels more comfortable to remain connected to the world even when he needs to think. Despite being a changeling for a long time, to understate it just a tiny bit, one’s nature finds its way to the surface, and 387 still prefers acting like a pony on occasion instead of simply using changeling solutions for everything. Not feeling like an artificially-created love sucking monster for a few moments can help one retain their sanity. Besides, unlike the situation on the ship when he felt like he was in a much more immediate danger, his current environment doesn’t pose such a threat in his mind.

However, after talking with 10013 and 65536, it’s clear to him that there’s something more going on that’s definitely not part of ‘the cruise experience’ and that changelings are somehow critical to it, otherwise no one would go through the trouble of forging a ticket and making sure that the hive changelings can get on the ship.

Is it connected to my blackout on the maintenance deck? Judging by 10013’s memories, the ship certainly wasn’t struck by lightning. Was the security guy lying when talking to the angry Captain? Unlikely. There wasn’t anyone on deck to see the explosion and the lightning strike IS the most logical explanation.

Was I following someone who set up explosives in the maintenance section of the ship? If so, the memory wipe makes sense and the suspects capable of doing it would be changelings and unicorns. Changeling passengers confirmed by Chrysalis and 93 are “Ten”, 1313, 65536, and us. I know that none of them are even remotely as good as Chrysalis at mental stuff. No, I went over this earlier. Maybe I thought about my own mind wrong, though. Since the uniqueness of my mind means I’m not easy to access through changeling abilities, my past as a pony might mean that unicorn magic could find a way without as much customization as I thought before.

A unicorn then? There are dozens of unicorns all over the place and I know only a few of them. This path will only be guesswork, so maybe I should focus on the method rather than the culprit here? Could a unicorn blow the ship up using magic? Definitely, there seem to be several of a sufficient caliber, but hiding it from Sun Hammer, Shining Armor, or the security detail? Magic leaves a mark, and those are exactly the kind of ponies who would notice even under pressure and despite the chaos of the evacuation.

There’s one more thing - the entire outer shell of the ship exploded simultaneously but the cabin doors weren’t damaged on any deck, which means that no unicorn just shot a disintegration beam from the hallway through all floors. Maybe they just shot upwards from the maintenance deck? Possible, but would still leave a magical trail. Plus, could the magic simulate an explosion on all floors with the same effect of ripping the metal of the ship outwards?

Hmmm, I’m getting nowhere if I just say that magic can do anything.

Let’s ponder the zebras for a moment, potions and chemistry, and all?

I didn’t see any zebra delegation during my scouting, so 1313’s guys? Maybe, he would be able to forge his own ticket and say it got lost, but from 10013’s conversation with him he sounded like he wanted to see us even less than Ten.

Zebra alchemist? 65536 lied about Gem at first, but it felt like it really did trust her. Throughout all the drone encounters with her, she was sort of suspiciously friendly for a non-changeling, but she clearly has experience with 65536 so that could translate to the others.

Would someone from Canterlot castle itself be allowed to bring explosives on the ship? We were thoroughly checked.

With a sigh, 387 opens his eyes and heads back to the beach, mentally preparing for a potentially unpleasant conversation. After a brief search, he finds what he’s looking for.

“What do you want?” Ten tenses up, narrowing his eyes as 387 approaches close enough for the infiltrator and paladin in training to know that 387 is here for him.

“I just wanted to ask a few questions, 436-”

Hearing his rank spoken out loud, Ten immediately interrupts 387 and his voice goes from cold to straight up hostile.

“And with that I’m going to ask you impolitely to buck off right the hole now,” he growls.

“Ten?” Bright Star, lying on his back in the sand with his head in the shade, opens one eye and uncrosses his hind legs.

“No, Bright Star, just no,” Ten shakes his head, glaring at 387, “Those ranks mean we still belong to Chrysalis. I’m Ten, I’m a paladin trainee, and the only changeling I answer to when called is… you know,” for a reason 387 can’t even begin to guess, he glances towards Sun Hammer who is listening despite trying her best to look like she’s entirely absorbed in studying some pictures in the sand. 387 avoids getting closer and escalating the situation.

“Look, Ten,” 387 corrects himself, “We don’t even have to talk in private. I just wanted to ask if anyone performed a sweep of the ship for hazardous materials.”

“The Security did it on the first day, Manehattan port has its own inbuilt alarms, and Bright Star and I performed a full sweep separately while the guests were enjoying the cruise on day two,” replies Sun Hammer instead.

She knows more than she lets show. Why? Do I just show my cards? She could be behind it too, something along the lines of hive changelings being a threat. International water, lack of laws, and so on.

“Understood,” 387 nods and backs off with a sigh, “I guess asking if someone could have avoided the scans would be pointless, right?”

“Nothing is impossible,” Sun Hammer shrugs but that's all she says.

“It’s unlikely,” Bright Star, eyes closed again, smiles, “They might have fooled me, but Sunny here only looks as if she eats dumbbells for breakfast. She’s quite the magic theory specialist -you don’t get to a Grandmaster level just by being a proficient battlemage- and I doubt there was someone on a guest list who could fool her.”

Sun Hammer only sighs.

“Got it,” 387 nods, “Sorry to have bothered you.”

“Mhm,” Sun Hammer nods and returns to studying her drawings.

As 387 walks away, he almost misses a step when he realizes what was gnawing at him since the beginning.

They didn’t ask anything about me mentioning explosives.

They KNOW.

Which means they know that I know, or at least suspect, and if they’re behind it I should watch my back. Watch my back more, I mean.

If not, though, that means someone created the explosives on the ship, which leads us back to the most obvious alchemist onboard - Gem. Though she spent the whole day making drugs rather than explosives, unless 36658 is in for a nasty surprise the next time it hiccups.

Come to think of it… I’ve seen 65536 around several times, but not her. Where is she?

Author's Note

Barely any drones in this one? What absolute heresy is this?!

Day 4 - Shipwrecked?: 4/7

“Ow, ow ow ow!” 1313 hisses in pain as a chunk of his carapace breaks off with an audible crack.

Said carapace chunk is shaped like a long saw blade, and gets immediately grabbed by two zebras who begin sawing a thicker tree into planks for a better shelter than the makeshift roof from sticks and leaves which the Quest Security ponies crafted along the edge of the jungle.

“Whooooah!” 65536, watching it, leans forward, “How long does it last? Is it a high rank thing? I tried doing this back home once to make a crown thingy for Luna like the Queen has but it crumbled to dust after a few minutes, so I opted for a paper mache one instead.”

“Back in the tunnels, we wanted to make long poles once to help with clearing a cave-in without breaking all the rocks, but those cracked immediately,” 10013 chimes in.

In response, 1313 sits down, breathing heavily.

“I just think that falling to pieces effectively is my speciality,” he smirks, “Why are you two here, anyway? Doesn’t Chrysalis need a personal fan waver or ten in this heat?”

“We’re exploring!” says 65536 with a smile.

“The Queen is just resting,” adds 10013, “We don’t have any orders, so we’re just watching what everyone else is doing and if there might be something useful to learn for when we go back home. Your zebra friends look like they’re building something,” it lets the sentence hang in the air.

“You should ask Zamira about that, actually,” replies 1313, nodding towards her, “Zami, do you want to take a break? These guys want to know what we’re doing.”

“Sure, take over for me then,” Zamira, her coat heavy with sweat, puts down a rock and stops polishing one of the planks with it. As 1313 passes by, she plants a kiss on his cheek, chuckles at his surprised glance, and approaches the drones, tapping on her lips before pointing first at 65536 and then 10013, “Wait, don’t tell me - You’re the… Nightguard and you’re the leader, right?”

“Yes, ma’am!” 65536 salutes.

“You got it!” 10013 nods, “Not many ponies can distinguish between us.”

“It’s all about practice,” says Zamira, “My girls made up a little game about betting on which one you are whenever one of you drones passes by and then 1313 judges the results.”

”Ohhh!” 65536 beams.

“You’re the easiest one to guess,” Zamira pats its head, “Your demeanor is completely different from all the others. Much more self-assured and at ease. Anyway, you wanted to know what we’re doing, right?”

“Mhm,” 10013 nods, “I’m hoping to learn something that could be useful back home.”

“Or if you need help we can do that too!” 65536 adds.

“I think we’ve got this covered,” Zamira shakes her head, “It’s just a basic survival practice - something to do more than anything really necessary, because those Quest Security guys did a decent job with water, fruit, and shelter already. It helps as a refresher, plus we swapped the command structure a little so that everyone gets practice at obeying orders and at giving them. As you can see, 1313 and I are now working under Zara, and Zaida is in charge of the whole thing.”

“Huh,” 10013 tilts its head, “That’s weird, I thought the point of us low ranks was to do what high ranks say. The Queen always just delegates what needs to be done to someone under her.”

“Yes,” Zamira smirks, “That’s why she needs to steal love from both the ponies and her own subjects, from what I heard. In comparison, we all keep 1313 topped up at all times. Even though he’s never done anything like this before, he’s listening to us and trying his best. He’s not whining, not pulling his rank, not considering us a lower class of servants or just eye candy like Blueblood did. And look at him, with that tight body and all, physical work is doing wonders for him and he’s always been smart enough to deal with the rulership stuff. He looks so much healthier than when he crashed through Blueblood’s roof.”

“Oh!” 65536 jumps up, “Thanks! You gave me an idea. Good luck with your practice!” it runs off without explaining anything.

Unfazed, Zamira pokes 10013.

“You wanna watch us work then? I doubt I can integrate you into our command structure for this exercise, but I doubt the girls would mind some interested audience.”

“Definitely!”

***

Not even 65536’s cheery mood can survive everything, and when the drone finds Blueblood lying in the shade of his shelter, the undisturbed sand around him showing that he hadn’t moved or even turned since 65536 left hours earlier, even the happy drone has to let out a tired sigh.

“Good afternoon, Your Bluishness! I brought you some chewy leaves full of water.”

“Drop the honorific,” grumbles Blueblood, “You know I’m not a noble anymore.”

“Yup. That’s why I used Your Bluishness,” 65536 pauses, “It’s not a real title somewhere, is it?”

Blueblood doesn’t respond to that.

“Come on, do you want Miss Gem to hypnotize you again and make you eat these? And if I don’t tell her about this she’ll look at me as if it wasn’t my fault but I would know it was.”

With a grunt, Blueblood pushes himself up and looks at 65536 through sunken eyes.

“...fine…” he whispers, grabs the leaves, and starts quietly eating one.

65536 briefly darts into the jungle before returning with a small pile of sticks which it arranges into the sand.

“How come you don’t get bored?” asks the drone after drawing a shape into the sand with one.

“What?”

“How come you don’t get bored just lying here?” repeats the drone, “I don’t understand much about this depression thing Miss Gem mentioned, so… how come you just don’t get bored?”

“Bored? What’s here to do? I lost everything. Rightfully so…” growls Blueblood, “That changeling and my bodyguards got one of my holdings, and my aunt showed me the report that they’re doing better than I ever did. Another damn changeling is doing better at being a paladin than I ever did,” for a second, he looks as if he wants to scream but in the end he only lets out a defeated sigh, “Doesn’t matter…”

“Yup!” 65536 agrees, spitting goop on two selected sticks and fitting them together at the frayed ends. This seems to surprise Blueblood who shows the first sign of curiosity since the trip began. 65536 looks up at him and notices the slight head tilt, “Is it bad for you that others are successful?” it asks.

“I should have been successful in their place! Everypony expected me to be successful in their place. All my life, everypony talked about everything as if it was a done deal.”

“But you weren’t and it wasn’t,” replies 65536 calmly, “Ten and 1313 are doing the job you clearly didn’t want to do, from everything I heard. Why aren’t you happy that you’re free to do what you want then?” is another entirely genuine question.

“Free to do what - starve? I have no money, no status, nothing!” snaps Blueblood, “My aunt, my parents, my bodyguards, everypony I’ve ever known told me to my face that I failed at everything I ever touched and they proved it, so tell me - what do I want? What should I want?!”

65536 pauses while scratching its head with a stick before pointing it at Blueblood.

“Wanna help me glue sticks together? We could make a hat.”

***

“99526, come over here,” 93’s voice inside 99526’s head along with an appearing map marker make the drone sitting in the shade and experimentally munching on a random leaf twitch.

“I’ll be right there,” replies 99526, tossing the leaf back into the jungle before heading towards 93’s marker. It was kinda watery but it didn’t feel as if it made its goop better in any way so throwing it away doesn’t feel like a waste.

Arriving at its destination, 99526 sits down next to 93 who is seemingly busy observing two griffons playing with rocks, sticks, and leaves, periodically changing their positions on a square grid drawn in the sand.

“Hi?” the drone greets them. The griffons briefly glance at 99526, nod, and return to their… activity.

“What are they doing?”

“Playing chess.”

“Ohhh, I ate a plate full of chess on the ship. It didn’t go exactly well.”

93, engrossed in watching the griffons move their mess around the grid, asks:

“Do you still have goop left or did you throw everything up?”

“I still have a lot. It kinda lies around in my belly once it stops, umm, overflowing, so I’m almost full. Why?”

A series of images depicting a small, unidentified, tubular object from multiple sides appear in 99526’s mind.

“Can you make this, or at least something vaguely similar?”

“Probably,” 99526 shrugs, “What is it?”

“Let’s find somewhere more private and I’ll explain. We’re going to need a flat rock.”

“Alrighty.”

The two changelings stand up and 93 asks:

“Will you two still be playing later?”

One of the griffons shrugs, replying:

“Probably. Not like there’s much to do other than wait for a ship from the resort.”

“Nice,” 93 smirks and nudges 99526, “Come with me and you might get a point!”

***

The day keeps rolling on, with most creatures lounging on the sunny beach, in the shade of the jungle, or in several cases swimming in the sea even after last night.

“ATTENTION EVERY DRONE! YOU GOTTA SEE THIS! I REPEAT, YOU GOTTA SEE THIS!”

99380’s mental call filled with happy amazement reaches every hive drone and, with the exception of 99526 who replies-

“Can’t! Busy with 93.”

-the drones arrive at a spot on the beach where 99380 is staring with just the happiest smile at what’s, to its eyes, basically a moving pony made of rainbow lights. The pony facehoofs, which makes colorful reflections dance over the sand.

“Ehehehe!” 99380 giggles and stomps its hooves in excitement.

“By the Empress, they’re multiplying…” grumbles the blinding pony when the other drones arrive and gradually stop, jaws dropped and eyes wide.

“You,” the pony points at the clump of drones. They all move their heads to follow the pointing hoof, “What are you doing?”

“Shinyyyyyy…” mumbles 10013.

None of the drones notice Shining Armor who arrives, brought by a second bright and brilliant prismatic pony.

“Shinyyyyyy…”

“That’s me,” says Shining Armor with a sigh, pretty sure that the drones aren’t even aware he’s there, “CADDY! Mind coming over for a second? We seem to have an infestation here.”

“What’s goin- oh…” the alicorn of Love comes over and stops, rivaling the dropped jaws and amazed stares of the drones for a few moments, “Prism, Glintstone, go stand in the shade for now, will you?”

The two Crystal Guards salute and trot off, followed by the group of drones until they reach the edge of the jungle and the sunlight stops fracturing all over their crystalline bodies.

“Whuh? Huh?” the drones exchange confused glances, “What happened? Where are the shinies?” until 10013 points at the crystal ponies, “It was you two! Who are you? Why are you so sparkly? What-”

“Changelings!” they hear Cadance call out, which is followed by a gentle flow of love that makes the drones run off back to her and fan around, “I would like it if you didn’t bother my guards right now.”

“Okay, but how are they so shiny?” 20100 nods vigorously while immediately getting to the most important point.

Cadance sighs but can’t help smiling.

“They’re crystal ponies, that’s just how they are. I think it has something to do with a certain artefact up north where we live.”

“Why are you not like them, then?” asks 10013, “I mean, you’re love-shiny, not shiny shiny.”

“I wasn’t born there,” Cadance pats its head, “I can become reflective like them only under certain circumstances.”

“You can be… shiny shiny… and love-shiny at the same time?” asks 36658 and everyone’s jaws drop. Then 36658 looks directly at the ground, adding quietly, “Sorry you’re missing this, buddy.”

“My husband’s pet name is Shiny too,” Cadance giggles.

“What’s a husband?”
“Does it make music?”
“Is it your pet?”
“I had a pet rock, but it ran away.”
“Rocks can’t run.”
“This one grew a bunch of tiny legs and two grabbers in the front and then ran off sideways.”
“That was a skittery snipper. You’re lucky, those things can take off a leg.”
“Ohhhhhh…”

Cadance, the newest victim of drone curiosity, can only stare as the drones start bickering about things that seemingly make perfect sense to them. At least until she says:

“I live in a whole city made of crys- shinies.”

The drones go silent instantly and their heads snap towards her again.

Whoah! Creepy.

“It’s called the Crystal Empire and-” Cadance calms down when the drones huddle up during her first words, ears perked.

Maybe more cute than creepy, but definitely a bit of both.

***

“Flat rock, found!” announces 99526, “Sticks of varying sizes, found!”

Sitting in a small clearing within sight of the beach, 93 beckons 99526 to sit down as well.

“Now, this is going to be a new experience for the both of us,” she says, transforming the hooves of her forelegs into claws, “Goop me,” 99526 spits at her face. 93 easily scoops it off and onto the flat rock between the two, “Guess I should have been clearer. How much time before it hardens naturally?”

“From what I’ve seen so far, about three minutes before it starts breaking instead of bending. It’s kinda wet and hot here, so I can’t say exactly.”

“That should do,” she leans over the blobs of gelatinous goop lying on the rock, “We’re not going for the most complicated shape here,” using her claws, 93 begins molding the slowly hardening goop into a shape she copied into 99526’s mind earlier.

Without being prompted, 99526 puts one of the gathered sticks into its leg hole, throws up another ball of goop, and begins working on its own version. Unlike drawing, working in three planes is significantly more difficult, or at least time-consuming. Thankfully, the moldability of the outer layer of the goop itself is easy to refresh with a good lick, so the duo soon have two small objects and 99526 asks again as 93 is examining them:

“What did we just make?”

“Just a little temptation for the griffons. I…” 93 pauses, “I think I like games which involve tactics and observation, and I’d like to be able to test myself against them.”

“That cheese thing?” 99526 tilts its head.

“Yes,” 93 doesn’t bother correcting it, “It’s highly strategic but it requires a set of pieces and a board which the griffons replaced with a simple grid in the sand and some bits and bobs they found. I want to bait them into teaching me by offering a chance to play using a realistic set.”

“We like games too, but the veterans keep mentioning something called dodgedrone or droneballl and wincing. We made up curling on the ship, but you can’t play it in sand,” 99526 nods wisely and rubs its side, “We tried that earlier. Very scratchy, even with goop.”

“This is less a physical game and a more mental one,” 93 taps her temple with a claw, “Ah, by the way-”

[10013:1, 20100:4, 36658:3, 99111:2, 99380:3, 99526:1, Smiley: :-) :-) :-) :-) :-),

65536:1]

“My first point!” 99526’s mouth involuntarily wibbles in pure joy.

“That was just for testing if we can make a usable piece from your goop. There’s another one in it for you if you help me finish the set,” 93 winks at the drone, “Considering how quickly we finished the two pawns, it might not even take that long.”

*NOD NOD NOD NOD NOD NOD!*

“Perfect. So, each side has eight pawns - these little guys we just made. Let’s start with those.”

And so, the time passes until 99526, happy that its speciality is finally not a burden, earns its second point.

[10013:1, 20100:4, 36658:3, 99111:2, 99380:3, 99526:2, Smiley: :-) :-) :-) :-) :-),

65536:1]

Day 4 - Shipwrecked?: 5/7

93’s shadow falls on the duo of griffons engrossed in a chess match, making them look up when the shadow doesn’t move again. With a winning smile, 93 nods to 99526 who unrolls a small package made of large leaves and goop that it’s been holding under its foreleg, revealing the set of freshly made chess pieces. One entire side is made of simple green goop while the other has grains of sand scattered over them as a distinction.

This finally draws the griffons’ interest and one reaches out to pick a piece, upon which 93 clears her throat with a smirk.

“Nu-uh. Not for free,” she says, which makes the griffon frown and withdraw.

“You might have missed it, Missy,” grumbles one griffon, “But everything we had sunk with the ship. Until the Celestial Seas Cruises gets the insurance payout we’re pretty dry.”

“No, really? I didn’t know!” 93 gasps in a sarcastic surprise, rolling her eyes, “Seriously, catbirds, you wanna play with a real set and teach a newbie instead of repeating ‘rock takes leaf’ ad nauseam?”

The griffons exchange looks before one of them sweeps the makeshift ‘pieces’ away and redraws the grid in the sand.

“Let’s call it a draw,” he says.

“Pffff, sure,” sneers the other, “Bughorse here saved your ass.”

“We’ll see about that. So where do we even start?” the first one chuckles before taking 99526’s package, this time without being stopped, and begins filling the grid with the pieces, “Chess has always been the game of kings. Sometimes it’s even been used to settle wars and disputes between griffon families without bloodshed. Fathers would train their sons in both tactical warfare, swordplay, and chess-”

99526 plops its butt into the sand, observes, and eventually gets an idea.

***

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Shining Armor shoots yet another suspicious glance to a group of drones who have so far successfully managed to build Cadance a complete beach umbrella, a small table, and a deckchair from sticks, goop, and jungle leaves based on 10013’s and 65536’s earlier experiment with Chrysalis, much to the confusion of other cruise guests. Now they’re resting around in the sun, enjoying the flow of love from Cadance nourishing them, “Not feeling weak, tired, or anything?”

“Honeyyy, we’ve been over this. Four times so far, actually,” Cadance smiles at him in yet another attempt to comfort him, “They’re not even draining me, I’m just radiating and they’re eating it. It’s sort of fun to watch, actually, but I doubt anyone here could see what I see using magic,” she glances at 20100 who kicks its hind leg as its ears twitch, “Heh, nom!”

“Fine,” Shining Armor sighs, “Just… be careful, okay? If you feel anything out of place- nnngh?!” he almost swallows his tongue when, as one, every single surrounding drone raises its head and they all look in the same direction towards the jungle without any audible communication or prompt.

“Whoah!” Cadance blinks in surprise as well.

“Thank you for the love, food princess!” 10013 stands up, waves at her with a look back and a smile.

One moment later, all drones are gone, obscured by the other guests.

“Creepy! I told you they were creepy!” the unicorn huffs.

“Shiny…” Cadance rolls her eyes.

“I have to see where those weirdos ran off!” Shining runs off.

Following the nefarious black menace, the Emperor of the Crystal Empire tracks the drones down towards the edge of the jungle and to a duo of griffons playing a match of chess with a bigger, female changeling unknown to Shining.

One of the griffons who is sitting by the changeling’s side says:

“I see two viable options here. Either you can secure a position with your Queen or you can just take his rook with your pawn.”

“What if I use my bishop to threaten the King?” asks 93.

“If you have a strategy for when he starts moving the King to a covered position, go for it, but I can’t see any long-term benefit.”

93 hums to herself before picking the pointed out pawn and taking the rook.

“Pawn takes rook,” she says.

“Gasp!” 99111 leans over, “How? But that rook thingy was so big? How can a tiny pawn take it out?”

“What… do you mean?” asks one of the griffon, clearly taken aback by the reaction.

“There’s no way a big guy like that wouldn’t just squish the tiny pawn,” adds 10013 in the way of explanation.

“That’s what the rules of the game say,” the griffon replies, still unsure what’s going on.

“That makes no sense,” 36658 shakes its head.

“Totally unrealistic,” 20100 nods, “The big guy could just smack the small one just like 10013 said.”

“Be quiet!” 93 raises her voice a little, “That’s how the rules of the game work, take it or leave it. Preferably leave it and let me concentrate.”

“...awww…” mumbles 20100, hanging its head.

Watching the drones tilt their heads as smaller pieces take the bigger pieces with visible confusion in their eyes, Shining Armor can’t help himself feel for them. After all, this hits too close to home, although no one but Twilight and Cadance know and, if Shining has his way, it will stay that way. He wasn’t too stupid to be good at chess, his tactical talent just lay elsewhere as he learned later in his youth.

He walks over to the nearest drone which happens to be 20100, taps its side, and asks quietly:

“Would you like to try a game system which simulates real strategy much better and, more importantly, makes sense?”

“Big guy eats small guy?” whispers 36658, peeking over 20100’s shoulder.

Shining nods. Some whispering between drones later, they all scoot over to Shining who stands up and leads them a short distance away. On the way, he keeps levitating up small rocks, leaves, and pieces of wood for no reason the drones can make out. After finding an unoccupied shady spot, Shining sits down and starts putting the gathered bits and bobs floating around him on the sand and moving them around to form dunes and shallow holes.

“This,” he beams when he seems to be done, “Will be our battle arena.”

10013 furrows its brows.

“I don’t think we can all fit in there. Maybe if we stood on each other and you squeezed-”

“Not us!” Shining rolls his eyes, “We are the generals commanding the battle just like your changeling friend and the griffons commanded their chess pieces.”

“Ohhhh!” 10013 nods, “That makes way more sense.”

“We’re going to need some pieces representing our forces. I have no idea where those griffons got the chess set-”

“93 and I made those!” 99526 beams proudly, “All from my goop. Took us close to two hours but 93 said we did a good job and gave me a point.”

“With that level of detail?” Shining blinks in surprise, “That’s amazing.”

“Hee hee hee,” 99526 giggles proudly.

“Anyway, it would be nice if we had something like that so that I could show you how this game works but some sticks and rocks will suffice. We can use rocks to represent bigger units and sticks for the smaller ones.”

“Is goop bad or something? We can always just use bigger and smaller globs,” offers 99526, spitting out a glob, blowing on it to dry out faster, and then presenting it to Shining who forces himself to take it without wincing.

It’s okay, Shining. It feels just like gummy candy. Don’t think about where it came from. DON’T!

“I think we could use these. Can you make like… five of these and one bigger one? Just for a demonstration,” a short moment later, the blobs are ready and Shining positions them in the arena, “Now all we need is dice,” he reaches to a saddlebag on his belt and pulls out a pair, “I always keep my lucky pair on me. This game is better played with a whole bunch of them but these two will suffice for now. Are you ready for your tutorial of Battlemace 50 million?”

“That’s such a huge number!” replies 99380, which Shining takes as an affirmative.

“So, imagine the small blobs are you and the big one is me and we’re enemies. You’re starting off hidden in these craters which count as cover while I’m out in the open. Your goal is to eliminate my piece and vice versa.”

“What’s that versus vice thingy?” asks 10013.

”That means my goal is to eliminate your pieces too. First, we figure out who starts, okay?”

“How do we do that?”

“Dice! Everything is solved with dice in this game,” Shining presents a die in his hoof, “Do you want an odd or even number?”

10013 examines the die.

“Can I have 2, 3, and 9 with the line? Those feel kinda odd.”

“No no no,” Shining shakes its head, “Odd numbers - numbers that can't be divided by two. Even - those that can.”

“Ohhh, sorry. Odd then,” 10013 nods after a moment of counting on its hooves, “My rank is made of those.”

“Alright,” Shining puts his hooves together and shakes them, making the die roll between the frogs and bounce audibly off of the keratin.

“Let’s play some Scufflestick Big Number!” cheers 99380 excitedly.

Shining throws the die into the air where it spins until it drops, showing 2.

“Aww, I lose,” 10013 pouts, “Good game. I liked the part where that die thingy spun a lot.”

“That’s just the beginning. I told you this only means I go first.”

“Oh!” 10013’s ears perk up.

“So, I want to charge towards the closest of your pieces, right? Let’s say that my piece is a unicorn who can only levitate a sword and fight up close,” Shining pauses, “If I’m going too fast, just say so and I can clear up the rules.”

“No no,” 10013 shakes its head, “A big unicorn with a floaty slashy is running at us. We, uhh, run away?”

“It’s not your turn yet. You can imagine it working as if both turns were happening vaguely at the same time but you took a little longer to react.”

“Makes sense,” 10013 nods.

“Now we need to figure out if I can get to you. I wish we had a ruler to measure the distance between our pieces accurately. This game is a lot about numbers. Looks vaguely like three standard hooves. The usual BM translation for a small-size map is three hooves per die,” Shining takes the dice and says before rolling, “That means I have to roll over six using these two dice. Are you still with me?”

“We’re all still here,” nods 10013, “Except for Smiley, but we can show the game to it later.”

“No, I mean- am I explaining this clearly enough? There are a ton of numerical stats or rules but I’m trying to explain the basics.”

“Yup,” 10013 nods, watching the dice land in the sand, “That’s seven, so your blob makes it to mine.”

“Mhm,” Shining moves his blob and makes it touch 10013’s, “Now we’re engaged in melee combat, which means others either have to join us or they can’t use projectiles, magical or otherwise, to help either side.”

“Meep!” 10013 winces.

“Next, regarding melee combat,” Shining takes the dice again, “Each model- ehh, blob has a certain amount of hit points which signify how much damage it can take before it’s dead-”

*...wibble…*

“-before it can’t fight anymore,” Shining corrects himself when met with the sad looks the drones cast towards the smaller ‘combat’ blob, “Big units usually have a lot more than small ones, and the stats are normally written down in a rulebook. Unfortunately, mine sank along with the ship so let’s just make up something sensible. So, let’s say, my unicorn warrior has 6 hit points and 3 armor while your drones have 2 hit points and 1 armor, right? My unicorn against five drones,” Shining hums to himself, “Let’s not bother with attack types and so on, my unicorn just attacks your drone in general.”

“Can I run now?” asks 10013.

“No, every unit has a movement action and an attack action. So, let's say my unicorn is a warrior and can hit if I roll 4 or higher. You drones will need to roll 5 or 6 to hit. Aaaand I can do 1 to 3 damage, just so that we have some spread for funsies. Okay?”

“I remember all the numbers!” beams 99380, “And the guys can tap into me no problem to read them.”

“Good,” Shining nods, “So I roll one die per attack, which I only have one, aaaand… I roll 5, so I hit.”

“Oh no. My drone blob!” 10013 leans closer and pokes its blob, “So how much damage does it take?”

“Not yet,” Shining shakes his head, “As I said, you have 1 armor, so if you roll against my attack and roll 6, my attack bounces off of your armor and fails to wound you. Go on, roll,” he offers 10013 his die which the drone takes with shaking hooves.

“Awww, 3.”

“Okay, so I succeeded in wounding you. Let’s see how badly. How do we split 1 to 3 damage so that it’s equal using a six-sided die?”

“Two numbers - one wound?” 10013 hazards a guess.

“Exactly!” Shining smiles, completely lost in nerding out with the drones and having forgotten anything regarding ‘the dark menace’. He rolls 5, reaches for the small blob, and moves it next to the board, “And gone, you lost a unit, I don’t have any more moves to make, and your turn begins. You have weaker units but more of them, so you can still overwhelm me with some luck.”

“We run,” decides 10013, brow furrowed, “We already lost one, so the best we can do is save whoever we can. What do I need to roll to charge away?”

Shining sighs.

“Oookay, let’s take a step back and talk about objectives and victory conditions first-”

Author's Note

Did you think I was kidding about that 40k tournament?
I have a completely incoherent imagination and I'm not afraid to use it!

Day 4 - Shipwrecked?: 7/7

Strategically but inconspicuously combing through the beach brimming with creatures takes some time, but eventually 387 has to come to a conclusion which doesn’t shed good light on the situation at all.

She’s not here.

The second discovery which he’d found earlier was that while the Quest Security ponies have been using one partially cleared out entrance to the jungle in order to bring materials and food. Discounting his own and 93’s points of entry, there was one more place further on the beach where someone had entered the jungle as well. Unlike Quest’s guys, they were trying to be sneaky.

He has a good amount of recent experience at sneaking through forests which should be possible to translate into a jungle, but he’s fully aware that there’s a high chance that him straight up following the faint trail could end the same way as it did on the cruise ship. There’s only one way to avoid it or at least lessen the impact.

387 lets out an annoyed sigh and heads off to Chrysalis’s umbrella stuck in the sand.

“Your Majesty,” he sits down next to her.

“And here I was actually starting to enjoy myself. Do you know that the drones managed to freak out a pair of crystal pony guards? Pretty funny, no?” she replies without even opening her eyes.

“Your Majesty, this is serious.”

“It always is with you and that’s your biggest flaw,” she sits up, rolls her eyes, and pats 387’s head as patronizingly as she can, “Alright, tell mommy what’s bothering you.”

387 tames his desire to hurl when hearing Chrysalis say ‘mommy’ in that half-sultry tone, and goes straight to the point:

“Gem isn’t on the beach and someone carefully entered the jungle away from the mob of creatures to avoid being seen. I can’t help thinking that it was her, and the more I turn what happened to me inside my head the more I think she’s somehow involved both in the ship sinking and…”

“Aaaand?”

“Look, I don’t know, and I’m going to follow the tracks. I just wanted to tell you what I suspected in case I woke up later stuffed inside a python with zero idea how I got there.”

“Take 99380 with you,” is all Chrysalis says before lying down again.

“What? Why?” 387 blinks in surprise.

“Tell the drone to shut up and sit on your back or something but take it with you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“That’s an order, 387.”

“Fiiine,” he breathes out through gritted teeth, “You know you could just tell me-”

“Meh, why waste time telling you my magnificent plans if you end up mind-wiped again anyway,” she snickers.

387’s eye twitches, but as much as he hates to admit it…

…she’s right.

A plan based on his information formed inside her head is much safer than in his own.

“99380, get over here! You’re getting a point ahead of time just in case.”

“YAAAAAA -COMING- AAAAAAYYYY!”

[10013:1, 20100:4, 36658:3, 99111:2, 99380:4, 99526:2, Smiley: :-) :-) :-) :-) :-),

65536:1]

***

With 99380 on his back, 387 carefully scans his surroundings. A broken branch here, a leaf stomped into the ground there. The signs of someone heading deeper into the jungle are there for someone with 387’s experience to notice.

No hoofprints. Someone was careful but inexperienced at moving through wilderness. The ground is only one of our witnesses here.

99380 wants to ask about everything around them, but keeps its mouth shut according to 387’s instructions, and it only repeatedly turns its head from side to side so as not to miss anything.

“Blotty strangler!” a mental call rings through their link.

387’s warrior reflexes make him freeze in place as he briefly glances through 99380’s eyes who is looking down at the ground and spots the tip of the tail of a python to the right of his lowering hoof. He probably wouldn’t have stepped on it and, even if he did, he would be able to deal with the python, but he carefully steps to the left instead while noting how astonishingly well the borderline paranoia which keeps the drones alive in the tunnels translates to the surface.

“Well spotted,” he replies mentally.

99380 smiles to itself but doesn’t say anything verbally or mentally. The rules are - unless it’s a warning, don’t disturb 387.

The warrior himself is focused on finding any signs that might hint at something unusual, because whoever he and 99380 are tracking has been learning with every step through the wet jungle soil and improving their stealth at a rapid pace. What’s worse is that, unless 387 is missing something critical, there must have been more than one pony moving around and leaving behind visible marks. Thankfully, now it doesn’t seem like there’s anyone still around, so 387 can at least take his time looking around.

The search ends when, past a certain indistinguishable area of the jungle, 387 can’t find anything.

Hmmm, we have a clear distinction between areas where something is and where something is not, but I can’t find anything. Not around and not up, so… down?

“99380, would you be able to figure out if there was anything strange about the ground?”

“I dunno, I can try,” shrugs the drone.

“Go for it.”

99380 floats down from 387’s back and begins wandering around while the warrior keeps following it and covering the drone’s own small hoofprints which it keeps leaving everywhere.

It takes less than ten minutes to cover a quite large area when 99380 suddenly stops, tilts its head, and trots off in one direction before stopping dead in its tracks.

“There’s a hollow area that way,” 99380 points ahead, “It doesn’t feel like just a random hole. The walls are much more solid than any burrow I can sense and it’s not under a tree.”

“Really?” 387 hums to himself.

Several minutes later, 387 carefully moves a bush, then a small boulder, and finds a trapdoor hidden under a layer of dirt.

Well well well…

“Hide under that tree, I’m going down,” he points at an unidentified tree nearby, “Don’t move unless you’re found, and stay in contact.”

99380 nods and shuffles away.

Readying himself for anything, 387 descends into darkness and closes the trap door over himself.

This ends extremely anticlimactically when, after only several steps down, the narrow tunnel opens into a simple square room with a flimsy wooden bench containing some basic tools and pieces of paper smelling of… food and chemistry. Unfortunately, with his lack of recent exposure to the pony world, 387 can’t identify what these clues could mean on his own.

So, two mouth-held saws, a hatchet, two shovels, and… whatever this is. Hive mind?

> [Biodegradable food packaging.]

387 checks his hive mind links. He shouldn’t have been able to connect to any nodes from this far away without expending a significant amount of love, yet that didn’t happen.Examining the signal, his mental poke first reaches 99380 and then, after a noticeable delay, the changelings on the beach as well.

Ohhhhh, so that’s why she wanted me to take 99380. The little radio drone can do this much? I bet she’s been periodically checking on us too. With this weak of a connection she can’t be watching directly but at least she knows we’re still alive.

Anyway, hoofprints, basic tools, and the remains of food. Nothing that could be hiding any entrance to elsewhere.

“Hmph…” 387 takes one final long breath just in case his unconscious mind can think of something he consciously can’t, but in the end he has to admit that his imagination has run dry.

“Everything okay up there, 99380?”

“Yup! There are some spotty flappers up in the trees, but that’s about it.”

“Okay, I’m coming up.”

387 climbs up the stairs, does his best to hide any clues to him and the drone being here, and the two head back to the beach.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” asks 99380, once again on his back.

“I found ‘something’, I just have no clue what it means.”

***

“So?” is all Chrysalis asks when she returns from taking a swim in the ocean among some other more courageous cruise guests and sees 387 and 99380 sitting outside the shade cast by her umbrella not to ruin her resting spot.

“I saw noodly hissers! And they were completely different from back home. Then there were spotty flappers and -oh right!- some skittering swarmers ran over me, but they were tiny and I remembered that 10013 said that if I didn’t disturb them they wouldn’t bite,” reports 99380 with excitement.

“I guess you’re free to go, 99380,” with a sigh and an involuntary smile, 387 taps at the drone’s shoulder, “Tell others about the parrots you saw or have a swim or something.”

“And don’t go too far from the beach,” adds Chrysalis, “The security ponies said the ship will be here soon. Oh, and find Smiley. I haven’t seen it the whole day.”

Once 99380 trots off, 387 recounts his findings to Chrysalis.

***

A little bit of searching later, 99380 finds 10013 on a more secluded part of the beach in the corner of a large square drawn in the sand, sitting on its haunches while holding a long, goop-reinforced stick. A short distance in front of it, 99111 is holding a hardened ball of goop. Behind 10013, 20100 is sitting and watching 99111. The two remaining drones are standing around the square.

99111 throws the ball at no particular speed towards 10013 who bats it away, drops the bat, and starts running as quickly as it can along the edges of the square while 99526 and 36658 rush quickly towards the arcing ball, collide in mid-air, and bounce off into the sand, both missing the ball entirely. Eventually, 99526 manages to get to the ball first, grabs it, and raises it with a happy:

“GOT IT!”

10013 has, in the meantime, managed to run three fourths around the square and stopped in the corner just before 99526 raised its hoof.

“Three quarters of a point,” 20100 beams, “You’re good at running!”

“Yaaay!” 10013 jumps up and down.

99380 walks over to 20100.

“Whatcha doing?”

“With curling out of the question, we made up a new game. We’re calling it batball. 99111 has the ball and throws it at you. You pretend it’s a gribbler and you hit it with a sturdy bat and run away. To simulate a bendy tunnel, you gotta run along the edges of the square, and you get points for the distance you manage to run before anyone else catches the ball you hit. It trains you to hit gribblers really hard and quickly run away. It’s good practice, actually,” 20100 points at a series of lines in the sand drawn with a stick, “I’m keeping score here this round, so that we don’t fill up hive memory space with pointless stuff.”

“Neat, who’s winning?”

“10013 has the most run-arounds. It’s very quick. 65536 was the fastest when it played with us for a while but then said it had to check up on something. You wanna play too? It’s exhausting, but the food princess filled us up when she watched us for a while.”

“Sure,” 99380 nods, “But first, the Queen told me we should find Smiley. Has anyone seen it?”

“Oh, a mission from the Queen?” asks 10013, approaching along with the others.

“Yup. She said Smiley has been gone all day and she’s probably worried.”

The drones look at each other, pondering it.

“Hmm, last time I saw Smiley was in the morning. It dug a hole at the edge of the greenery and hid inside it because it was too hot. We can check it out,” 10013 puts a marker on the hive mind map of the beach, “Try calling out via our links on the way.”

“Smiley, where are you?”

“Calling agent Happy Face. I repeat - calling agent Happy face!”

“Smileeeeyyyy!”

Soon afterwards, the missing hive link lights up, followed by annoyed groans and yells of cruise guests as Smiley rushes between the various groups, spraying them with sand, an inflated condom carefully held in its mouth.

*Happy face!* *Happy face!*

“Where were you, buddy?” 36658 smiles at the Silent, “The Queen was worried- well, she wanted to know where you were.”

*Stripey face!*

“With 1313 and Miss Zamira?” asks 10013.

*Stripey face with protective goggles!*

“Is that a little more expressive than usual for Smiley?” 99111 scratches its head and remains ignored.

“Zebra zebra zebra… Miss Gem?” 36658 tilts its head.

Smiley nods, spits out the condom ball, and bounces it up with its hoof towards 10013. Reflexively, 10013 bounces it away from its face. Smiley bounces it up towards 20100 this time.

“Hey, a bouncy ball game!” 20100 giggles, bouncing the ball towards 36658.

“Alright, make a circle and don’t let the floaty touch the ground!” calls out 10013, and the drones fluidly switch into playing a different game, no questions asked and all worries forgotten.

***

The lights of a small yacht become visible through the late evening gloom, and a flare of light shot out of Glorious Quest’s horn alerts the various parties on the beach, followed by his magically amplified voice.

“CONGRATULATIONS, DEAR GUESTS! The Ataraki resort yacht is almost here. It, however, is too small to fit everypony in one trip, so the passengers will go first, and the staff will embark during the second round early in the morning. Don’t worry, they’re carrying supplies for tonight for griffons and ponies alike. My security staff will stay as well, so please enjoy your dinner and have a good night’s sleep.”

In less than an hour, the changelings board the yacht along with everyone else. Considering the much more limited space, Chrysalis boots the drones and 387 out of their cabin, remaining alone with 93. Not that they mind and, shortly after, the drones are sleeping under a table on the yacht’s deck while 387 stretches himself on the bench.

With the changelings safely on the final leg of their journey to the resort, day four ends.

Author's Note

And we're done with day 4.
Now - bad news: This was all a buffer and I haven't written anything in several weeks aside from the barest notes, so I might be pausing updates for an indeterminate amount of time. I'm between switching jobs, training my replacement, and getting into the new project in my overtime. Corporate work is potato.
So, see you... at some point in the future, I guess.
EDIT: Aaand my cat died of liver cancer. She's been weak for a few days, so I finally went to the vet and they told me that it wouldn't have mattered even if I came during the first signs. Keep it coming, life. Keep it coming...

Day 5 - Standard procedure: 1/8

The three-room suite is dim this early in the morning. The curtains aren’t drawn over the windows in either of the two bedrooms nor in the living room between them. On the first glance, all three rooms are empty, and there’s no one in the bathroom. The four large beds, two in each bedroom of the suite, are neatly made, showing no signs of anyone having spent the night in them. That should be strange, since the guests certainly arrived at night.

Sudden shuffling and scratching from the top part of a large, heavily decorated, wooden, two-part wardrobe by the wall might freak out any potential observer up until the point when, with a bump, the small door opens, revealing a pair of glowing teal eyes on a small, black head.

10013 looks around, woken up by an unidentified sense of strangeness in its hive links.

Hmmm, nothing out of the ordinary.

Something is off, something…

A presence!

The instant 10013 concentrates on the faint and unidentified presence within the hive mind, it vanishes without a trace, leaving the drone questioning if it’s ever been there at all. Eventually settling for a shrug, 10013 flies down from the top section of the wardrobe and lands on the soft carpet, hopping around a little to enjoy the tickling on the frogs of its hooves. It’s like fresh grass but so much softer and warmer!

Whoah, we must have been more tired than we thought. It’s way past sleepy time and everyone's still out.

Its touching of the other hive links is immediately answered by 36658’s head peeking from under the bed. A second of violent struggling later, 20100 slides out from a bottom drawer of a metal filing cabinet in the corner.

“Hi, guys!” 10013 smiles, “Did you sleep well?”

“Mhm,” 20100 nods, “This sliding thingy was super cozy once I took the papers out,” it points at a stack of binders neatly set down on the floor next to the cabinet.

“Do you think someone’s gonna need those?”

“I’ll put them back in for the day,” 20100 flies out and gets to cleaning up, “Though I doubt anyone’s going to be using these, they’re all blank.”

36658 yawns.

“Then maybe they’re for us?” it suggests, “You know, so that you can draw as much as you like.”

“Ohhhhhh!” 20100 stops, pondering the idea, “If that’s the case then there must be some drawy rocks or paints around here too.”

“You’d better put those papers back anyway until we confirm that,” 10013 nods its head towards the cabinet, and 20100 resumes cleaning up.

“Whoah!” 36658 checks the hive mind, “We’re way into worky time.”

“Aren’t we on shippy time?” 20100 finishes putting the papers back.

“Can’t be,” 10013 shakes its head, “The ship sunk, so I think we’re back on standard time.”

“Huuuh,” 36658 taps its hooves on the carpet, “Nope, definitely not. There aren’t any hive mind markers about digging or carrying.”

“I think we should stick to being on breaky time until told otherwise,” decides 10013, “Besides, we can always hunt for points.”

“Ah!” 36658 facehoofs, “I can’t have High Score be forgotten due to the actions of that hairy tick. If you don’t have any leadershipping for us, then I-”

“I actually do,” 10013 laughs nervously, “But for that we need everyone. How about we first explore this place? The hive mind map is pretty empty.”

After they arrived at night, 387 just led the drones into the suite and ordered them in no uncertain terms to shut up and go to sleep.

“Should we wake the others up then?” asks 36658.

“Give them a few moments,” 10013 shakes its head and enters the living room which is roughly twice the size of the bedroom and filled with various pieces of soft furniture. One entire wall is made of glass, in the center of which is a sliding door leading on a balcony that immediately draws 10013’s attention.

The drone sits in front of it and tilts its head.

“A magic wall like on the ship! Do you think we can open this one?”

Some collective poking and bumping into the glass later, the drones notice something resembling a knob on the thicker, vertical, non-glass part of the wall. After a deep breath to gather courage, 10013 turns the knob and, with a click, both wings of the door gently slide to the sides.

“Whooah, you unmagicked it!” 20100 starts sliding the door back and forth while examining the groove in the floor which it seemingly follows on tiny wheels, “I wonder how it works…”

36658, in the meantime, flies up onto the parapet and breathes out:

“Wooooooow…”

Hearing that, the two drones hop next to it. The view is breathtaking, doubly so to the drones used to narrow, dark tunnels and caverns.

The Ataraki island is shaped like a boot viewed from above, with the resort forming a circle, half on the upwards-sloping ground and half consisting of water bungalows in the sea connected by a long pier. Halfway between them lies the crescent of the beach, empty at this time of day. As the drones look to the sides, they see a bunch of other balconies presumably belonging to the suites of other delegations. There are other buildings scattered all over different levels of the slope which form concentric half-circles ending with the beach itself.

10013 compares what it’s seeing with the current state of the hive mind map, and finds that there are no notes or descriptions of the buildings, leaving the drones in a completely uncharted territory. Well, with two exceptions - the drone suite is marked “Drones” and one of the water bungalows is marked “Chrysalis”. Interior maps are missing as well, and the whole mental world is lifeless and empty, meaning that there are no high ranks serving as hive nodes nearby to provide live feed.

“Good morning, guys!” 99526 calls out, leaving the heretic bedroom and waving at the four other changelings on the balcony, “What time is it? Are we late?”

“10013 decided that now that the ship is gone it’s a big breaky time,” 20100 beams and waves back, “And you’re not late. We’re just looking around. There’s so much more to see than on the ship and this place is much bigger than any cave ever!”

Two of the newbies trot over and look over the parapet as well, while 99111 walks over to a table by the main door of the suite.

“Woooooooow!” 99380 beams, “Hey, 99111, come look at this view! The big shiny is rising and making the sea all sparkly!”

99111 arrives a moment later, carrying a laminated map of the island, which it swiped from the doorside table, and puts it down on a table on the balcony.

“Look, we could use this in place of the hive map for now,” it says.

“Neat!” 10013 hops down from the parapet and examines the presented map, “Good job. What could all the numbers mean, though?”

“Is there more?” 36658 grabs the map and turns it around, revealing a long list of numbers with notes.

“Sooo… this big building we’re in is number… 4, floor 2,” 10013 concludes, “And that’s supposed to be the ‘Accommodations’, same as floor 3. Floor 1 is called ‘services’.”

“Hey, 99380, do you have a moment?” 20100 pats the newbie.

“Yup!”

“Can you try calling for Smiley? I can’t sense it at all.”

“Smiley! Smiley! 20100 says it wants you to come over here!” 99380 sends out a mental call.

“Anything?” 20100 looks around. The others only shake heads, “Keep calling then. Maybe it’s just wandering around and can’t reply from so far.”

“Yeah,” 10013 puts the map down and nods, “On an unrelated note, I took a quick look through everyone’s head on the boat here, and I think I figured something out.”

“What?” asks 36658.

“That 99380 isn’t stupid.”

“I’m not?” the drone in question asks after the usual small delay present whenever it speaks, “But it always takes me a while to gather myself. I’m kinda slow.”

“Yes, you are,” 10013 nods, “But I’ve been thinking and I have a guess as to why,” it waves the overturned map in front of 99380’s confused face, “Commit this to memory, please.”

“Done!” 99380 replies shortly.

“Everyone else, tap into it, take a break, and then try to recall it without, umm, recalling it.”

“Uhh, what?” asks 99111.

“Ohhhhhh!” 36658 smiles, “I get what you mean! I can feel it in my hooves.”

“I’m confused…” 99380 frowns, “Are you making fun of me? I want to be in on the joke too. Can you explain?”

“I’m feeling something, but I’m not sure what,” 99526 scratches its head.

“GOT IT!” 20100 suddenly jumps up, “Got it got it got it! Took me a while but I got it too!”

With an excited smile, 10013 hugs 99380.

“You can do what none of us can! You’re not just a radio ling, you can use the drone section of the hive mind that 387 set up. That’s why you can contact others better and now we won’t need to remember the big stuff like this map and all the notes on our own. Speaking of which, can you save the batball and curling rules for us?”

“S- Sure thing!” 99380 beams, stunned by suddenly being important, “I- you know- I can store your Scufflestick factions and details there, plus all the numbers that Mister Shiny promised he’ll help with.”

“That’s a great idea!” 10013 nods, “We’ll go see him later. I think he might still be asleep now.”

The excitement is interrupted by Smiley landing on the floor, happy as usual.

“There you are, buddy!” 10013 greets it, “Where have you been this early?”

*Puzzled face* *Happy face* *Confused face* *Stripey face* *Woozy face* *Tired face* *Happy face*

“Ooookay, that’s way too tough for me,” chuckles 10013, looking around and seeing zero understanding in the faces of others as well, “Let’s make it simple - any problems or danger?”

Smiley shakes its head.

“Anything we can help with?”

Smiley gives it a blank stare.

“Too complicated of a question, got it,” 10013 nods, “Well, I guess we can start now that we’re all here.”

“Oh right, you had some leadershipping to do, you said,” 20100 stops examining the map, sits down, and looks at 10013.

“Yup,” 10013 nods, “So, I had this idea, right? We all want points-”

Everyone but Smiley nods, and 36658 glares at 99111 who returns it with a frown.

“-but we all gotta work for the good of the hive and us drones. Now, since the newbies just don’t have our experience and we could also use a fresh perspective on problems, I decided that for today we should pair up - newbie and a veteran, and try to be useful together. You know, teamwork and so on, like when we were trapped inside the big bad starry pony and High Score split us up-”

Smiley wibbles at it. 10013 gives it a brief hug.

“-I know, buddy, I know. Any questions?”

“What are we supposed to do?” asks 20100.

“The same stuff we’ve been doing up until now, just in pairs,” clarifies 10013.

“Can I pair up with you?” asks 99111, nodding at 10013.

“I’d like to stick with 99380 for now to figure out how we could use the hive mind drone section, and hopefully learn how to allow everyone to fully access it too. We’ll take Smiley as well,” 10013 shakes its head.

36658 looks at 99111 with a sigh.

“Fine, we can-”

“20100, wanna pair up?” 99111 interrupts it.

“Sure, let’s roll!” 20100 nods.

“I guess that leaves us, 99526,” 36658 nudges the final drone.

“Yaaaay! Let’s work together for the good of dronekind!” 99526 hoofbumps the air.

Author's Note

I've managed to put a chapter together! Woooo!

Day 5 - Standard procedure: 2/8

“So, what’s the plan, 10013?” asks 99380, walking by 10013’s side through the hallway on the bottom floor of the apartment complex for the resort guests, still smiling from figuring out that its mental slowness isn’t due to some serious deficiency.

10013 has been searching the walls for any cards containing a schedule, but so far it’s only found copies of the map they already had in their suite. Thinking the question through, it stops and taps the floor with its hoof.

“I’m stumped. It feels that it’s too early for anyone to be working, but I can feel tremors in the floor, so there are creatures moving around.”

“How about we just find the nearest open door and ask if anyone needs help?” suggests 99380.

“That’s what we’re bound to end up doing, but I’m trying to figure out where we’d have the best chance to find anyone needing help as the day goes on. I’d like to find a schedule or something similar to what I saw hanging on the wall of the cruise ship.”

*Curious face!*

“Whoa…” 10013 leans back when Smiley’s unusually intense expression aimed its way conveys its meaning, “Is anything wrong? Trouble?”

*Shake shake shake!* *Thinking face…*

Smiley bumps its nose against the wall a few times before turning back to 10013 again with a:

*Curious face!*

“A wall… question…” mumbles 10013, “The schedule on the wall I mentioned? It’s a plan of activities ponies could do on that day written in pony scribbles. For example, I listened to a leadership lecture by a very shouty two-legged creature with horns. I haven’t properly named it yet because it didn’t attack me so I didn’t know what name would be useful.”

*Blank fa-*

Smiley squeaks when 99380 lunges at it and hugs it.

“You are getting smarter! We just kinda have to figure out what you mean but you actually asked a question!”

10013 tilts its head.

“Agreed. That was a bit more complex than usual. Maybe we could test-”

Smiley stands up with 99380 hanging around its neck, and licks 10013’s face before trotting off, sniffing the air. 99380 opts against sliding on the floor while being pulled, and lets go of Smiley. A brief roll on the floor later, the drone joins 10013 following the Silent out of sheer curiosity.

Shortly after, Smiley loudly sniffs the air again and walks into a closed double door. Thankfully, it isn’t locked, and leads to a large, open room filled with tables.

“Oh! A dining room like on the ship!” 10013 starts walking around and updates the hive mind map with a simple note.

Smiley, on the other hole, walks over to a large blackboard covered in chalk writing by the entrance, sniffs it, licks it, narrows its eyes, finds a bowl with a stick of chalk on a table next to it, and unceremoniously eats a piece. Seemingly satisfied with what it just did, it sits down on the floor.

“I don’t think that’s for eating, Smiley,” 99380 pats its shoulder, “Didn’t that horny blue pony draw with it?”

Smiley’s jaw drops, it looks at 99380 with amazement, and finally it grabs the bowl and empties it into its mouth.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” calls out an equally horrified and angry voice from the kitchen door, and a griffon curious about the talking in the dining room rushes towards the changelings, “By the Emperor, the bug monster just ate a bowl of chalk!” he looks from happily chewing Smiley towards the kitchen door, “Wensley, call the nurse RIGHT NOW!”

“What’s wrong?” 10013, alerted by the screaming, slides on the tiles under the table and, rather stylishly, gets back to all fours just as its momentum stops.

“I’m not sure,” 99380 nervously shuffles back, “I think this -umm, griffon, right?- griffon is angry because Smiley ate his chalk.”

“Umm, Mister griffon?” 10013 steps between visibly intimidated Smiley trying to look small, “I think Smiley just misunderstood that the drawy rocks weren’t a snack. We’ll try to get you some replacement or-”

“That’s not the point!” the griffon grabs 10013 by the shoulders and shakes it before stopping and wiping its talons with an expression of disdain, “We need to get the nurse to pump out its stomach! If it dies here we’ll be in so much legal trouble-”

“Wait! Wait wait wait!” 10013 objects, “Smiley will be okay. It ate chalk before and, as far as we know, we can’t be poisoned by eating stuff… well, unless it melts us from the inside. I don’t think it would do so since, as I said, Smiley ate some before.”

The griffon pauses, seemingly having run out of things to say, before his brain restarts when 10013 nudges Smiley with its hind leg.

“Hey, buddy, can you return at least some of the drawy rock?”

“That’s not the point!” wheezes the griffon again, eye twitching.

*Hurk!*

Smiley spits out a glob of goop on the floor.

“HEY!” the griffon scowls at the Silent who scuttles backwards, its back now against the wall under the blackboard.

10013 examines the goop the surface of which, for some reason, unusually quickly dries up into…

…white dust.

“Ohhhhhh I get it!” it grabs the blob and presents it to the griffon, “Here you go - your drawy rock. You want it as a stick?” it rolls the goop between its hooves until it’s the right shape, “I think that Smiley can make more.”

“Not. The. Point!” aaaand the stupidity of everything finally becomes just too much for the griffon who takes a deep breath before asking, “So you’re saying that… thing won’t drop dead in a few hours from eating a bowl of chalk…”

10013 opts for diplomacy instead of focusing on the ‘thing’ part.

“Yes, Mister griffon. Thank you for being worried, but we eat love, not real food, unless we make our insides work differently. We’ve discovered that we can make our goop take on different properties if we eat the right, uhh, thing. I think Smiley ate drawy- chalk and can now make… drawy goop. I, for example, can make foam that douses fire really well.”

A moment of thinking later, the griffon takes a long breath and simply breathes out before turning its head towards the presumed kitchen door and yelling sarcastically:

“THANKS FOR THE HELP, WENSLEY! AND DON’T THINK I CAN’T SEE THE SHAPE OF YOUR COWARDLY HEAD THROUGH THE WINDOW!”

“We didn’t mean to cause trouble…” mumbles 99380, shuffling towards 10013.

Seeing the two comparatively tiny drones, one of whom is cowering in the shadow cast by the large griffon, the staff member’s tension eases, and he just sighs.

“Are you absolutely sure that one,” he points at Smiley who scrunches itself so small that it’s almost the size of the two drones as well, “will be okay? We have on-site doctors, even though I doubt they’re used to changelings.”

“Smiley, give the good griffon some more drawy goop,” 10013 turns around and pats Smiley’s head.

Slowly and with ears drooped, Smiley spits out more goop, rolls it into a stick with its hooves, and presents another piece of rapidly drying goop to the griffon who twitches and backs off.

“No, umm, it’s fine,” he shudders with barely contained disgust, “We’ll refill that. Just- Just don’t eat any more of it,” he turns around, “I- We have breakfast to prepare…” he leaves without another word.

“Umm, do you think he’s coming back?” 99380 asks with quiet worry.

“I doubt it,” 10013 looks around the empty dining room, “I think we should leave, but we can’t let all this go to waste,” it pats Smiley’s head, “Try the goop on the blackboard.”

Smiley carefully takes the goop stick into its mouth, draws a circle, and gasps, swallowing the stick whole… probably by accident.

10013 adds two more ovals as eyes and a crescent as a smiling mouth with the first piece of drawy goop.

“That’s you!”

Smiley looks from 10013 to the drawing and back repeatedly, visibly stunned by the revelation, before booping the picture and smudging it in the process.

“You know what?” adds 10013, “How about we go tell the Queen and look around on the way? That’s bound to take some time so we won’t wake her up.”

“Yaaay, so early and Smiley already earned a point!” cheers 99380.

“Hopefully so,” 10013 smiles, “Let’s go.”

Day 5 - Standard procedure: 3/8

Being the only team remaining on the balcony after 10013’s and 20100’s left, 99526 patiently sits by 36658’s side while the veteran drone keeps looking into the distance over the parapet. When the silence grows unusually long, 99526 clears its throat.

“Umm, 36658, are you okay?”

“Hmm?” the other drone’s ears twitch before it looks sideways at 99526, “Oh? Yes yes yes,” it smiles, “I was just watching the sunrise. The way everything sparkles against the sea is… a gift.”

“Yup! So many dancing shinies!” 99526 beams back, “Can we go down there once we’re done with chasing points for today? Or, you know, while we’re doing that? Speaking of points, where do we start?”

“No idea,” 36658 hops onto the parapet and floats into the air, “but High Score will provide a way, we just have to keep looking.”

“Eyes. Peeled.”

With an excited smile, 99526 follows.

From the air, however, the tall slope looks lifeless, prompting the casually flying duo to eventually land on the flagstones of a long promenade arcing along the beach.

“Hmmm,” 36658 unceremoniously sits down, “I doubt forcing anything would help. It might even make ponies get angry at us if we wake them up early. Maybe we should just explore…”

“You know, I’ve been thinking about this whole ‘points’ thing, and… I mean, not to criticize 10013, but how is this helping your argument with 99111?”

That makes 36658 look at 99526 in puzzlement.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, since we’ve been doing all this to help our ‘side’ -you know, hairy tics and frantics- then if we gain points as a duo, or the same amount of points each, we won’t tip the balance anyway.”

36658 frowns and his look turns thoughtful.

“Are you really just doing this for points or because it’s an order?”

“Umm, yes? I mean, I suppose it’s good for the overall reputation of the hive and all, but that’s kinda beyond me, really. Too big. I just like being useful and I like headpats.”

36658 pats 99526’s head, making the corners of its mouth curl up again.

“Would you mind if I changed our mission a bit since, you know, us both getting a point wouldn’t mean much?” asks 36658 out of nowhere.

“Fine with me, but won’t 10013 be disappointed with us?”

“10013 will understand. It’s one of the very few drones who understand the bigger picture.”

“The bigger picture?” 99526 tilts its head and hazards a guess, “Is that like The Great Shiny or… some new 20100’s project?”

“No, it’s not,” 36658 chuckles to itself, “Oh, and it might be extremely dangerous.”

99526 shrugs.

“What isn’t? Are we going to get eaten?”

“It’s possible.”

“And are you sure we gotta do it?”

“I’m starting to believe that I must do it. You don’t. As I said, 10013 will understand if we split here and you tell it what I just told you.”

After pondering it for a second or two, 99526 shakes its head:

“Nope. Rule number one - drones stick together. So, can you sense 387? Because I for sure can’t, even now that we’re closer to the floaty sea houses,” it nods across the beach towards the water bungalows.

36658 concentrates, closing his eyes to avoid being distracted by the sparkling sea.

“Goop!” it curses after a moment, “I can’t. Oh well,” it shrugs, “I can always find him later on my own and that way you won’t be in danger.”

“Nu uh!” 99526 shakes its head vigorously, surprising 36658, “If it’s really that important to you, we can try to find him, right? Besides, who’s to say that High Score won’t show us a way to get points while we’re looking? And if it’s dangerous then two drones can do more than just one,” it puffs out its chest, “65536 did say when talking about Canterlot that if we’re easily replaceable, we gotta help those who aren’t and… you’re far more valuable than me,” its honest and determined expression makes 36658 give it a tight hug.

“Don’t mistake easily replaceable with valueless, buddy,” it lets go, reexamining its approach, “Are you sure there’s nothing you want to do?”

“I’m planning out my Scufflestick faction!” 99526 taps its temple knowingly, “I can keep doing that while we’re looking or we can do it together if you want.”

“Great idea, I’ve been playing with some ideas myself. First things first, though - how do we find a high rank warrior who doesn’t want to be found?”

“With extreme difficulty!” answers 99526, factually correct.

“Exactly!” 36658 laughs, and the drones start strolling along the promenade.

***

“Ha!” 36658 exclaims out of nowhere.

“Huh?” 99526 stops staring at the white houses lining the mountainous slope to the right and glances at 36658.

“Hahaa!” 36658 laughs victoriously.

“Humm humm humm!” 99526 rubs its head, “I think I’ve run out of noises. What are we ha-ing about?”

“I think I’ve figured out how to find 387.”

“Really?” the revelation genuinely stuns 99526. A drone finding a hiding warrior? That’s crazy.

“I’ve been checking the hive mind map and… you see the long strip of explored beach to the east from here?” 36658 pings the eastern end of the promenade which they’re slowly reaching.

“Mhm.”

“We haven’t been there, it wasn’t mapped out when we went to sleep, and I don’t think it’s significant in any way, yet it’s still explored. On the ship, I think the reason why we haven’t seen 387 the first day at all was because he was being all sneaky and scouty.”

“And then boom, on day two we had the whole map ready!” 99526 nods, “So… you think 387 went that way and the reason why the map just ends in such a noodly strip is because he got too far to connect to anyone else?”

“Exactly! So if you want to back o-”

“Welp, I guess that’s where we’re going then,” 99526 nods and starts striding along the promenade, legs pumping faster than their up to now casual pace, “387 gots to be far ahead.”

Conflicted, 36658 matches 99526’s new speed.

It feels better to not do this alone, but if everything goes wrong then 99526 might get punished just for proximity. On the other hole, it’s more likely that if things go wrong then 387 will just wipe its memory.

Heh… I guess 99111 isn’t the real heretic here.

***

Their quicker pace ends once the promenade slopes down in a low-angle ramp straight into the sand, and the drones slow down to avoid exhausting themselves by walking through the sand. 99526 is the first one to open a topic, since the road ahead seems to be a long one.

“You wanna hear about my Scufflestick faction?”

“Sure thing.”

99526 clears its throat.

“So, I was thinking about your argument with 99111 and wondered if I could make something along those lines, but bigger. You know how 20100 made up the Empire- uhh, Imperium of Ling, right?”

“Mhm. Go on.”

“Well, I was thinking about, you know, guys who used to be lings, but went bad, and now they are everything that the Em- Imperium isn’t. Like, drones who dislike digging and hate carrying!”

“GASP! MONSTERS!”

“Exactly!” 99526 nods with vigor, “And, since you know a lot more about the hive, I was wondering if you could give me some pointers.”

“Hmmm, everything that the hive- uhh, the Imperium of Ling isn’t…” 36658 pouts, “If we start from the top, what about not being ruled by a Queen?”

“As if ruled by a drone? Wouldn’t work,” 99526 shakes its head, “I think it would get eaten too quickly by warriors and such.”

“What about a King?”

“Ohhhh, good one! Who has ever heard about a changeling king, right?”

“Yup! What a silly idea,” giggles 36658.

“Alright, so ruled by a King…”

“Waaait,” 36658 grins, “What about having no ruler? You know, like being independent? Maybe they’re scattered into groups of lings who don’t like each other because they don’t have a common hive, but they cooperate on occasion because they dislike the Imperium even more?”

“THAT’S WAY BETTER THAN WHAT I HAD IN MIND!” 99526’s eyes nearly plop out of their sockets with how wide it opens them, “Ha! And the drones don’t believe in The Great Shiny, but rather in… in… umm… The Small Un- uhh, shiny?” it pouts, “I like that part a lot less…”

“You don’t have to take the anti-ling sentiment literally, I think,” 36658 ponders it, “Maybe… maybe they could think that the Great Gablonk is up there instead of down here?” 36658 briefly looks at the sky.

“Then how would the good drones get there? We can’t fly that high, it gets super cold!” objects 99526, voice full of despair, “That’s way too crazy even for my traitors,” it shakes its head, “Oooh, I got it! They’re going to believe in The Deep Dark… something so bad that it eats all shinies no matter where they come from. And if they win they’ll eat all the shinies and no one will ever see any shinies anymore!” 99526 bursts into villainous laughter.

“Ewwww,” 36658 shudders, “Spooky.”

“Yep, so what do you think?”

“Not the way I thought this would evolve, but I’m loving the idea,” 36658 gives it an appreciative nod, “And what made your guys leave the Imperium of Ling? Why are they traitors?”

“Uhhh… do we have to think of that too? Sounds hard.”

“I don’t think we have to, but why not? Maybe some backstory will help you flesh out what your faction really wants? I’m doing it with my High Score stories all the time to convey the right message.”

“Huuuh…” 99526 takes a deep breath, opens its mouth, and… says nothing, “Goop. I’m stumped.”

“How about I ask you some questions about you or your guys? Maybe figuring out the answers will help.”

“Sure!”

“If they betrayed the Imperium, then what was the thing they didn’t like? Is there something you dislike in particular? Too much digging, too little digging,” 36658 winces, “Maybe the Queen was too stingy with rationing love, maybe the high ranks ate too many of their friends, maybe they were fed up with no one caring that they can get eaten at any point of your worky time…” 36658 relaxes its sudden scowl, unusually intense for a drone, “Anything. Just goopballing here.”

“Oooooh…” 99526’s ears perk up with inspiration, “Okay, I think I get the idea now. So… they… they were sent to clear up deep caves, right? But they only got one angry shiny… and they asked for more but they were denied- heartlessly and very evilly denied!” 99526 beams at the choice of words, “Some of the asking drones might have even been kicked and called cowards. And so they and some high ranks went in and… and the angry shiny broke because there were too many of- of- ooh ooh ooh, I KNOW! I CAN CONNECT THIS TO 10013’S GRIBBLERS! EEEEEEE!” 99526 bounces up repeatedly out of sheer excitement, “10013 will be so happy! So, there were gribblers all over the place and the angry shiny broken and a whole bunch of them got eaten in a really loud, screamy, and crunchy way, and the rest had to run. And when they came back, they didn’t get a love refill because they didn’t fill their worky time quota and so they ran off to get love on their own. And the Ling Queen is mad at them because she needs all the love!”

“That’s an amazing start!” 36658 smiles.

“Uhh, start?” 99526’s expression turns a little more fearful, “There’s gotta be more?”

“Not really, but we’ve got a long trip ahead of us, and maybe the others will like to learn about your guys. Maybe even Mister Shiny. Stories are stories.”

“I guess you’re right,” 99526 nods, “Ask away then.”

Author's Note

When I re-read these just before publishing, it doesn't feel like these short chapters work with weekly updates, but that's the best I can do right now.

Day 5 - Standard procedure: 4/8

To cover as much ground as possible, 20100 and 99111 exchange brief waves with 10013’s group and head through the apartment complex the opposite way.

“The silence makes me wonder if we shouldn’t just go outside and wait until anyone who could use our help wakes up,” 20100 looks from side to side when the hoofsteps of the other drone group go quiet.

“It can’t hurt to look around. That way we can at least have some chance of gaining a point lead on 36658,” replies 99111 with determination.

“You do realize that the points will either be equally split between us or we’ll both get the same amount, so you’re moving nowhere. You know, comparatively.”

“GOOP!” 99111 curses, stops in the middle of the hallway, and hangs its head, “I completely missed that.”

“I mean, we should still do good for the hive, you know?” 20100 nudges it, “But there’s no one saying that we can’t do what we’re interested in -right?- since we’re on breaky time. You know what? Have you found something that you liked so far? Other than complaining about 36658.”

“Hey!”

“I stand by what I said,” says 20100 calmly, “I told 36658 that it was way overdoing the stories, but you’re straight up wrong.”

“Grumble grumble!”

“No reason for that kind of language!”

“Sorry…”

“Most newbies I talked to liked 36658’s stories, and… I wouldn't exactly tell this to 36658, but they don’t overthink them like you both do,” after a brief pause, 20100 adds, “For better or for worse. Although I think 36658’s overall idea is better.”

“Hmph!”

“If you don’t want to talk about it then it’s okay,” 20100 shrugs and rolls its eyes, “We’re drones, and that means that our priority is the hive, not our own problems.”

“Agreed,” 99111 huffs, “So, I was thinking, aaand there actually were ponies on the ship doing stuff at times unusual for most of them. Where? In a place called the workshop. All we have to do is find a place like that here and we’re set.”

“Workshop, eh?” mumbles 20100.

“Now where would a place like this have a worksh-?”

“Found it!” announces 20100 with a smile, presenting the hive mind image of the laminated map of the resort, namely the back of it with listed locations, through their hive link.

“Huh, I feel a bit silly for not thinking about that first,” mutters 99111.

“Well, we figured it out and that’s all that matters,” 20100 glances at 99111 before leading the way towards the nearest stairs.

***

The workshop is a one-story building with thick doors and walls as well as small windows to insulate the rest of the resort from any noise. However, the inside is extremely well-lit using long, bright, white, humming lights built into the low ceiling which the drones have to force themselves to look away from.

Unexpectedly, there’s only one pony in the entire workshop, although she certainly is managing to take up a lot of space and, unlike before, it’s not because of her overwhelming personality.

*POOF!*

“Celestia’s steaming milkers!” curses Trixie when a bubbling bowl on one of the five tables surrounding her blasts a plume of black smoke upwards while the unicorn herself is busy operating a spinning lathe on the leftmost table. Despite the loud yell echoing through the workshop, she carefully turns the lathe off before darting back towards one of the three tables filled with chemistry equipment, “Maybe I can salvage this…” she mutters, taking the bowl from the burner and turning it off.

Her horn lights up, and a strange shockwave expands outwards from her, passing through everything without seemingly affecting it, before returning back and centering on the bowl. Trixie has enough presence of mind to put the bowl back on the burner before collapsing on the floor.

This prompts the apparently unnoticed drone duo to rush towards her, slide under the line of occupied tables, and stop by the spasming and groaning unicorn, watching her foam at the mouth with her eyes rolled back so far they’re only showing whites.

99111 stares, frozen by the simple fact that it doesn’t have a clue what’s happening, if it’s good or bad, or how it could stop it in case of the latter.

20100, on the other hole, rams its tiny foreleg into Trixie’s mouth and feels her bite down on it. Thankfully, despite drone carapace not being the hardest unless reinforced, her teeth barely crack the surface.

“...goop, how do high ranks do it…?” it mutters before lowering its mouth to Trixie’s neck and biting down, slobbering on her coat a little as a result. When the lack of any effect reveals itself, 20100 sighs, “I wish 36658 was here now.”

“What’s happening?!” is all 99111 asks before 20100 bends its foreleg to open Trixie’s mouth more and lets some liquid goop drip into it from its own before rising its head again.

“She’s having the twitchy biteys,” says 20100 with strange calmness compared to shaking 99111, “No idea why, since I can’t see any pouncy spinners, but I’ve seen way too many drones break their jaws or bite their tongues off and choke on blood to recognize it.”

“Aaaah?! How are you so calm?” 99111 darts back and forth in panic, “If ponies see us like this they’ll think we did it and-”

“Because the twitchy biteys caused by pouncy spinners aren’t that dangerous if there’s anyone around who knows what to do. Hopefully, ponies react similarly to us. We just need a bit of normal goop and a way to keep our mouth open so that they can breathe.”

“Wait, really?” 99111 tilts its head. As if in response, Trixie slowly calms down and, shortly after, opens her eyes and swats 20100’s hoof out of her mouth.

“Ewww…” she croaks, pushing herself up into a sitting position, “Changelings?” she blinks, attempting to regain her bearings. Next, she carefully smacks her lips, “Mint? Why do I taste mint? Isn't burnt bread the symptom of a stroke?”

“20100 held your mouth open and made you swallow some of its goop,” 99111 shuffles over to 20100 and gives it a hug, “And it totally worked!”

“Eugh!” Trixie sticks out her tongue and makes a face, “I was okay,” she grumbles before tensing up and correcting herself, “The Great And Powerful Trixie appreciates your help, changelings, but can’t pay you in any way.”

“Ehhh, hello?” 99111 waves its foreleg, “It’s me, 99111! I helped you fix the door on the ship.”

“Ah,” she pauses, “And the other one? Two- something, did you say?”

“20100,” 99111 nods with vigor.

“Hello!” 20100 smiles and tilts its head, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“AAH!” Trixie ignores the question, jumping up and wincing as her whole body protests, but eventually breathes out when she checks the bowl on the burner again and finds its contents satisfactory, “Phew…” she wipes her forehead, “I wasn’t out for too long.”

“Three minutes and forty-two seconds from the moment you fell down until you jumped up just now,” replies 20100.

“Oh…” Trixie tenses up again, “So you… saw what happened?”

“The bowl went poof, your horn went bzzz, the room went whoom, and you went plop,” recounts 20100.

“...shit…” Trixie breathes out.

“Oh, if you couldn’t hold stuff in during twitchy biteys we can clean it up. That’s normal,” 20100 looks around, “But I can’t see or smell anything.”

Trixie shoots 20100 a glare, but it dies off almost immediately when faced only with the helpful smile of the drone.

“No, not that,” she sighs, “You saw my spell…”

“The whoom? Yup,” 20100 nods, “I liked it when everything wobbled.”

Trixie examines both drones staring back at her with open, honest faces, clearly only waiting for the situation to unfold. Faced with their strange innocence, the gears in her head start turning.

“I- The Great And Powerful Trixie has a favor to ask of you,” she says.

“Yay!” the drones hoofbump immediately, “We’re useful!”

“Uh, yes, yes.” Trixie nods, “It would be extremely helpful if you told nopony what you saw here. No magic.”

“Sure,” 20100 nods. 99111 joins in.

No matter how hard she tries, Trixie can’t find anything other than absolute truth in the drone’s words.

“The Great And Powerful Trixie appreciates it,” when 99111 raises its foreleg, she asks, “Yes?”

“I don’t think 387 or anyone else will think this is enough for a point. Is there anything else we can help with?”

“Huh, 99111 is right,” adds 20100, pointing at the workbenches surrounding Trixie’s area, “And you look super busy. There’s two of us and we’re good at digging and carrying-”

“-and gooping things together, like the door last time,” 99111 nods quickly, “We can help.”

Trixie circles around her working area, quietly muttering to herself, before making an executive decision:

“The Great And Powerful Trixie could use an extra pair- or two pairs of eyes… free of charge,” when both drones nod with eager smiles, she points to 20100 at random, “You’re going to watch this bowl,” she walks over to her chemistry table and points directly at the bowl filled with clear liquid which seems to have caused this entire incident. 20100 happily bounces up and down, saluting, runs off to grab a chair, and in only a few seconds it’s sitting on it, eyes locked on the bowl. Finally, Trixie pokes 99111, “You, nine-one-one or whatever. Since you already have some door experience, you’re going to help me do some woodworking,” she walks over to the rightmost table on which there is an anvil and a saw, as well as a bunch of planks of wood.

“What are you making?”

“I’m replacing the illusionist equipment I lost on the ship,” Trixie allows herself an evil grin, “No damn bolt of lightning will make Trixie live off lap dances again!”

Author's Note

A short one today.
I'm getting back into the work-writing-existing rhythm in my new job, but I still can'T write enough to get back to two updates a week.

Day 5 - Standard procedure: 5/8

Despite the potential magnitude of the discovery of Smiley’s chalk-imitating goop, the trio led by 10013 don’t rush towards the water bungalows forming a half-circle against the sparkling morning sea, instead they walk at casual pace, taking in the sights. Also, secretly hoping that 387 would pop up at some point and they wouldn’t have to bother the Queen.

99380 twitches and bumps into 10013 when a series of loud, high-pitched caws rings through the air. Immediately, the drones freeze and start looking around.

Nothing happens. No ponies or griffons start running around, no sign of any predator approaching them, no one seems to care about the noise.

“...this place is so loud…” mumbles 99380 when they resume walking, now a bit more on edge.

“From what I’ve seen in my life, the surface tends to be,” 10013 nods, nudging 99380 with its nose to comfort the newbie, “But so far it seems that critters that are loud are like that either as a warning or just… you know… because. It’s the ones that are quiet until they’re screeching and rushing at you that are the problem.”

“Really?” the words of authority reassure 99380.

“That’s the best I can tell you,” 10013 shrugs, “I think the drones who spend the most time on the surface are 36658 and 57999 so they’d know better. Oh, and of course 65536.”

“But I thought you were a much higher rank.”

“And?” 10013 smiles, “We’re not in the old days anymore. I mean, things were a lot simpler then - you just did what you were told, there was always a clear map marker to follow, and if there wasn’t one it meant you should be sleeping.”

“Is it wrong that I kinda like the idea?” asks 99380, “I know that whenever you veterans always talk about those times you get… strange. Distant,” when it hears 10013 sigh and hang its head, 99380 adds, “Sorry.”

“No, that’s okay,” to 99380’s surprise, 10013 looks back at it with a soft smile and a slightly detached look, “You’re right in a way. Things were simple. Not good whatsoever, but simple. Sometimes I want to go back to ‘simple’ too, especially with my responsibility for you guys and for the well-being of other drones. On the other hole, we don’t randomly get eaten by peckish high ranks anymore. When we get hurt, we get time to heal instead of being recycled or sent back to the tunnels. The amount of love we’re used to these days is… still crazy to me,” it wipes its eyes as they walk, smiling and looking down the long, paved street leading directly down towards the beachside promenade, “We never knew we had any unique talents because all we were supposed to do was dig, carry, and use our goop as basic reinforcement of tunnel walls. Every drone only knew about tunnel dangers whatever little it learned before it got killed by something it didn’t expect,” 10013 chuckles, “And look at us now! We’re on the surface, we can learn from each other, we can scribble down knowledge for newbies, and now that you’re here we’ll all eventually be able to use our portion of the hive mind. I only wish High Score was here to see it. With it around there’s no telling how far we would have gotten already.”

“Ummm…” 99380 scratches its head, instinctively briefly using its wings to compensate for missing a usable leg for the next step, “I always listened to 36658’s stories and… and… don’t take this the wrong way because I know how much you respect High Score, but… haven’t you done way more for all dronekind than it did in your life? All of you veterans have, really.”

The horrified look that 10013 shoots 99380 only serves to confuse the newbie more. On top of that, Smiley adds its own mental string of:

*Drone face* *Happy face* *Distorted face* *Sad face* *Happy face* *Sad face* *Happy face* *Sad face* *Confused face*

“Uhh, sorry?” apologizes 99380, having no idea why but feeling that what it said was somehow perceived as incredibly wrong.

“Sorry, Smiley. I have no idea what you mean,” 10013 shakes its head. Smiley briefly wibbles at it to no avail, and 10013 only reaches up and pats its head which seems to help, “99380, I don’t think you can understand how easy I have it under the new rules. High Score did everything it did in such a hostile environment that we can only hope you newbies will never live through again. It even learned a warrior-level transformation! On top of that, it did something no other drone could have even dreamed of. It’s the one story which 36658 never told anyone.”

“Oooh, what?” 99380’s eyes open saucer-wide.

“If I tell you, you’re not allowed to tell anyone. No matter what.”

“B-But what if a high rank wants to see inside my head? I can’t stop that.”

“That’s fine. If that happens, it happens, but the fewer drones know, the lower the chance of the high ranks-” 10013 pauses, thinking, “-making sure it can’t ever happen again.”

“Gotcha,” 99380 nods, “No telling anyone, I promise.”

“Here goes,” 10013 takes a deep breath, “High Score betrayed a high rank’s trust to save a fellow drone, lied to him, and defied an order. No creative misunderstanding, no mishearing an order, straight up… not doing something because it knew what would happen. Following that, High Score took the most dangerous assignment of us all, because it was sure that if the high ranks found out what it did it would get eaten or worse, and that the others might be punished for what it did.”

99380’s jaw drops.

“B-But w-we can’t do that!”

“Yeah,” 10013 chuckles again, “Even thinking about having to make that kind of a decision, my legs always start to shake. I’m far from High Score, 99380,” it shakes its head and repeats, “I have it easy.”

The three walk in silence for some time before 99380 asks:

“Who is the drone that High Score saved? 36658?”

“Nope. High Score saved a bunch of drones over its life, but it opposed the high ranks to save 17070,” 10013 shakes its head, “It lost hearing due to an accident, and High Score’s… trick allowed it to stay with friendly ponies while the rest of us went off to fight the Big Bad Starry Pony. High Score knew that 17070 would either get eaten by high ranks to save love or it would get killed in the tunnels shortly after. You know how important hearing is down there.”

99380 nods.

“And where is 17070 now? I don’t think I’ve ever sensed the hive link of a drone like that.”

“We haven’t seen 17070 again. I even asked 65536 if it hadn’t heard about it but it didn’t. The best I can do is hope that 17070 is okay among friendly ponies and that High Score is watching over it from The Great Gablonk.”

“That’s what 36658 believes, right?”

“I…” 10013 pauses, “I think that 36658 considers having a kind of belief like that to be important,” it says. 99380 isn’t complex enough to deconstruct the deliberately diplomatic answer and simply asks one of the most difficult questions ever:

“And is it?”

“I think that question is too big for a single drone to answer,” replies 10013 with a smile, “36658 says yes, 99111 says no. I think the answer is sometimes, for someone, and depending on stuff.”

“I see. So it’s okay that I know that I don’t know?”

“Yup. We’re drones. We’re not supposed to know the big stuff, at least not all of us, but we’re all always supposed to be helpful, and that means helpful to each other, and if we don’t know what is the right helpful thing, the best we can do is try in any way we can.”

*Smiley face!*

Smiley licks 99380’s ear, forcing a surprised giggle at the tickling sensation.

“See?” 10013 smirks, “Smiley’s not some grand thinker, and it’s still a valuable member of dronekind.”

“Thank you,” 99380 boops Smiley, “I was getting tangled in all that complicated thinky stuff about what’s real and what’s not, and I was just making it harder for myself,” announces the once again beaming drone, “We’re on breaky time and we’re going to make sure you get the point you earned.”

Smiley licks the side of the drone’s head in response.

***

The quiet click-clack of their hoofsteps on the wooden pier thankfully doesn’t make anyone look out of the bungalows until they reach the one marked on the hive map by “Chrysalis”. 10013 knocks and waits… and waits…

“I can sense the Queen,” it says after a while.

“Maybe she’s still asleep.”

“That would feel different. 93 is inside and sleeping, but the Q-”

“Down here, you nitwits!” replies Chrysalis, swimming up from under the bungalow and flying into the air briefly before landing on the pier, “What do you want?”

10013 salutes. 99380 imitates it and hits its forehead. Smiley beams, hopping up and down.

“Stop the forehead rubbing,” Chrysalis rolls her eyes, “It always reminds me of the little- 65536, and we’re no Equestrian guards. For one, we’re way better organized,” both drones simply sit down while Smiley remains hopping, and Chrysalis notices the remains of white powder all over Smiley’s muzzle, “Alright, who fed Smiley coke? I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed they didn’t offer it to me first.”

“Are coke and chalk the same thing?” asks 10013.

“Sounds similar enough,” 99380 nods.

Chrysalis’ eye twitches.

“Correction - who fed Smiley chalk and, if it wasn’t one of my drones, who is going to get thrown into that volcano?” she looks into the distance up the slope hosting the resort.

“Well, uhh,” 10013 pauses nervously.

“Speak. Now!”

“Smiley ate chalk in the dining room and now it can make drawy goop!” reports 10013, voice suddenly much higher pitched, and in the end it gulps with terror.

Chrysalis facehoofs, groaning.

“That is what its adaptability latches on to? Really? Damned chalk?!”

*Sad face…*

Faced with two expressions completely lacking any comprehension as well as Smiley’s drooping ears, Chrysalis sighs.

“Look, you know what the final batch of Silents were supposed to be, right?” she glares at 10013 who nods, “Unlike you drones who roll your speciality from the mangled, indecipherable mess that is the changeling genetic code, their biology was supposed to adapt to the one task in their brief life they were supposed to do. For example, if I needed a Silent who could eat through specific parts of a magically sealed door to Canterlot vault, like hinges, without getting immediately fried by a vast array of defensive spells, I’d spend a bunch of fresh Silents on that. Then there would be more who would try to bite through the reinforced material of the door itself. Hypothetically speaking in case someone is listening. And that was over four years ago anyway!” she looks around. When nothing happens, she keeps talking, “And out of all those options over the course of its life, the first thing this one managed to get into its stomach for long enough to assimilate was CHALK?!” her shoulders slump, “Why did it have to be something so useless-”

*Wibble!* *Wibble!*

“-so extremely situational?” Chrysalis winces when all three changelings focus their unexplained infernal power on her and corrects herself.

Things were so easy when she was evil and heartless. Overall worse, but easy…

“Does that mean that Smiley doesn’t get a point?” squeaks 99380. Smiley hangs its head low and looks down at the pier.

“N-No!” Chrysalis finds herself leaning back, “There, point. Happy?! I don’t know if it even realizes what those are for instead of just seeing a bigger number,” she grumbles.

Smiley’s ears perk up.

[10013:1, 20100:4, 36658:3, 99111:2, 99380:4, 99526:2, Smiley: :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-),

65536:1]

“What the holes is that?” Chrysalis frowns before barking out, “Stop mucking up the table with nonsense, Silent!”

Spooked Smiley whimpers and concentrates, or at least scrunches its muzzle.

[10013:1, 20100:4, 36658:3, 99111:2, 99380:4, 99526:2,

Smiley: (=^ ◡ ^=),(=｀ェ´=),(=´∇｀=),(=｀ω´=),=^._.^= ∫, (=‐ω‐=),

65536:1]

“SILENT!” Chrysalis smacks the side of Smiley’s head.

*TERRIFIED FACE!*

[10013:1, 20100:4, 36658:3, 99111:2, 99380:4, 99526:2, Smiley: 6,

65536:1]

“And keep it that way or I’ll take your points away!” she huffs, “You got what you came for. Anything else?”

Everyone looks at 10013.

“Umm, do you have any tasks for us or something?”

“No,” Chrysalis shakes her head and waves them off, “Now shoo! I want to enjoy some peace and quiet before everyone wakes up and starts making noise.”

Smiley walks over to her, boops her chest with its nose, leaving a white, chalky smudge as high as it can reach, and simply starts walking off, inspiring the other two to do the same… minus the booping.

Day 5 - Standard procedure: 6/8

If nothing else, 36658’s and 99526’s trip has been peaceful albeit shockingly long. With calm and sparkling sea around, the sun taking its trip across the sky to their left, and the jungle lively with unidentified noises, the drone duo had very little to do past chatting about Scufflestick and their current situation. Unfortunately, their clue to finding 387 in the form of the only explored noodle of the hive map lasted only briefly, but they just kept walking along the beach, in the shade of the jungle, and safe in the knowledge that they remembered the basic touristic map of the island that was in their suite. Despite the island being fairly large from their point of reference, the map didn’t show any forbidden areas, so they should be okay without any special precautions beyond simple listening-

“What the holes are you two doing so far from the resort?” 387’s stern voice interrupts their chatter.

“AAAAAAAAH-!”

“EEEEEEEEEEEEP-!”

“-AAAAAAAAAAH!”

“-EEP EEP EEP EEP!”

Sand sprays everywhere, including all over 387’s face peeking out of a bush, so quickly that even he barely manages to close his eyes in time. Not that changelings particularly mind, hardened eye membranes and all.

“Huh…” 387 tilts his head, staring at two newly grown melon-sized piles of sand in front of him with amazement, “Well, if nothing else, you sure can still dig,” he rolls his eyes, walking out into the open, and shoves the closer pile aside with his foreleg, revealing the top of 99380’s head.

“Get up here!” he orders mentally in case of the drones’ ears being covered.

The sand underneath shifts, and both drones crawl out of their instantly-dug shelters. A brief moment of shaking sand out of various cracks later, 99526 is the first one to say:

“Hello! We were just looking for you.”

“Really?”

“Yup! Specially 36658,” 99526 nods.

“Specifically,” 387 corrects the drone automatically.

“That, yes.”

“And how did you figure out I would be here? That’s… concerning, to say the least. Am I getting old and careless?”

“36658 figured out the secret of map noodles. It’s a very smart drone.”

“Clearly,” says 387 in a slow, thoughtful tone which manages to shake 36658, compouding with its preparation to say what it means to, “However, I’m noticing that the one smart drone with something to say is still the only one remaining silent.”

“It said that what it wanted to say could be really dangerous and I didn’t want to leave it alone because drones stick together.”

“Admirable, in a way,” says 387. Now somewhat fascinated, he carefully jabs 36658 in its chest, making the drone shudder, “I KNEW you sank the ship and somehow managed to keep it a secret!”

His obviously joking tone finally breaks the ice and 36658 sighs, following it with:

“99526, put your hooves over your ears and cut your link, please.”

The second drone does so and turns away for good measure.

“I’m pretty sure you’re making much ado about noth-”

“I think there’s something bigger and much more important than the Queen!” 36658 blurts out. No matter how much it wants to just close its eyes and wait for its impending doom, it forces itself to look straight at 387’s blank face, eyes beginning to tear up.

Slowly, 387 breathes in and out.

It can’t know, can it? No, of course not. How would it? Am I overthinking this? It’s a drone, so there’s roughly ninety-eight percent chance that this is just some stupid thing they made up again.

“Elaborate,” is all he says.

I swear that if it says High Score or Great Shiny or whatever…

36658 mimics 387’s slow breath in and out. When it does so, it realizes why the warrior did it, as it both gives time and helps one calm down. Despite his certainty that all this is a misunderstanding at worst, the grim but determined look 36658 gives 387 genuinely gives the ancient warrior chills.

“If you decide not to eat me, I’ll tell you the entire thing, but what really made me think was something 93 said when she was dazed by Miss Gem’s anguishdecimators - she said that ‘the complete entity was not a changeling but the hive’ and that the unique special abilities of the drones other than our digging were a way for the hive to decide what it needed at the time.”

The warrior and the drone sit there, looking at each other, one with determination and acceptance and the other with…

36658 waves its foreleg in front of 387’s face when the warrior seems to stare blankly ahead for just a little too long.

“Haze, you absolutely glorious bitch…” he breathes out before bursting into laughter.

“What is it? I wanna hear it too! I like jokes!” turning around, 99526 stops covering its ears.

“No!” 36658 raises its forelegs to cover 99526’s ears itself, but gets carefully but irresistibly pushed back by 387.

“Link up again, 99526,” says the warrior, “I don’t think precautions like that are necessary, especially because 36658 is wrong.”

“Huh?” the drug drone stops and blinks.

“Eeeh, maybe ‘not entirely correct’ is more accurate,” 387 stands up and stretches, “Let’s go back and we can talk about it. First, though, tell me why you two are here.”

“Uhh, I already told you we were looking for you because I wanted to tell you… what I just did,” replies 36658, scrunching its face in confusion.

“I meant why exactly you two. Sort of an unusual pairing, to be honest.”

“10013 said that it wanted veterans and newbies to work together so we split up into pairs and 10013 took Smiley on top of 99380,” explains 99526.

“Smart call,” 387 nods with appreciation.

“We were looking for ways to gain points, but it looked as if we woke up too early and everyone was still asleep, so 36658 had the idea to look for you. What are you doing here anyway? Mapping?”

387 shakes his head and begins leading the way back to the resort.

“I wanted to check something in the jungle. Last night, I was going through my memories of our stay on the beach and I noticed that some of the bigger pieces of wood which our shelters were made of had been cut in a way which to me resembled a saw. On top of that, when I was foll- exploring the jungle with 99380, I found a stash of tools. I wanted to check if I was right, but the site where we were shipwrecked had been properly cleaned up.”

“Huh?” 36658 scratches its head, relieved that its imminent execution seems to have been cancelled, “Couldn’t that have been 1313 and the nice zebras? 10013 and 65536 saw 1313 make chitin saws by breaking off pieces of himself which they used to build their own shelter.”

“Wait, really?”

“How come you don’t know that?” 36658 shoots the warrior a genuinely stunned glance.

“Don’t look at me like that,” 387 frowns, “After what happened with Ten and the paladins I didn’t want to bother 1313 so I purposely avoided him and his group. He’s happy where he is, all he wants is to be left alone, and his group has never been hostile to us- well, changelings in general, unlike the paladins. Unfortunately, now it looks like I’ll have to bother him,” 387 sighs, “Wait, how do you even know what a saw is?”

“I got a lecture about tools when I was building a fence for my poppy patch!” 36658 beams proudly, “And afterwards I had to explain it to 57999 and other drones who helped me build it so I put the information together the right way inside my head.”

“I know what a saw is too!” 99526 hops up and down, pointing towards the jungle, “I’m sawing a lot of trees that way.”

“36658-” the warrior takes a breath.

“I’ll link up and synchronize with 99526 while we walk,” the drone replies instantly.

A short while of walking and hive link traffic later, 99526 simply says:

“Oh… that makes sense. I got a bit excited.”

“That’s okay,” 36658 pats its back.

Misunderstanding solved, 387 steels himself for the second incoming conversation. He knows 36658 is too smart to simply let its theory about the hive go despite being told it’s not correct.

I could have told it to just drop it and that it’s completely wrong. I could have, but… just like the theory, that wouldn’t be entirely correct.

“Now, about your idea, 36658,” the warrior approaches the subject. Surprised that it’s coming up again, 36658 lets out a quiet ‘hmm?’.

“Should I cover my ears again? I’m not sure how I’ll walk but I can figure something out,” offers 99526.

“No,” 387 shakes his head, “I think it’s time the idea of a top-down structure of the hive shifted a little, but in a way which won’t cause more harm than good. First things first - the Queen is the head of the hive, no point in denying that. However, a head won’t survive without a heart, lungs, exoskeleton, and so on. You get the idea… I hope,” he adds after a second.

“And which part are we, the replaceable drones fit for a snack?” asks 36658 bitterly, which clearly annoys 387.

“A changeling not adapting to the times? Maybe you’re not as smart as I thought.”

“Hmph!” huffs 36658.

“Look, you can either live in the past and be the untreated, festering wound of the hive just like the old Queens-” 387 takes a deep breath and starts again, “36658, what happened can’t be changed. The rigid top-down structure was created during the times of starvation when we were the enemies of everyone. Was any of it the fault of you drones? No, I can say that without a doubt, but it happened and its consequences made us what we are now.”

“My point is that we, drones, can’t stop it from happening again!” 36658 points at 99526, “These guys never lived through it and I don’t want them to, but they still… they still… they still just do things only because it’s an order or because they get a reward! They haven’t discovered a purpose of their own, which is something I’m trying to persuade them to do using High Score stories, and now 99111 is trying to stop me! If it wins it’ll just be the same stupid cycle - work to get love until you get munched!”

“Well, a carrot and a stick is a method that always works,” says 387 with a surprising smile, “Look, you’re young.”

“Not for a drone!” objects 36658.

“No, not for a drone, but still young, and some ways of thinking only come through experience. Thanks to what you survived, you have ideas and convictions of your own, radical they might be. However, they-” he pats the head of eagerly listening 99526, “-don’t. To them it, on some level, feels like you’re forcing them to believe something they have no reference for and can’t identify with, and that’s why you’ll eventually but inevitably fail. I know what forcing a… religion on others leads to. Whether you mean well or not.”

“But we die too easily! We can’t afford to start over with every new drone and hope that it somehow survives long enough to understand that there’s more to life than digging and running away. I’m trying to bridge that gap! High Score showed us we can be more! We need to build a system that’s more than getting an order and going away to fulfill it.”

“And that’s why Chrysalis and I changed your schedule and now you have your break time instead of working until exhaustion and then sleeping. In four years, you’ve made a lot of progress, but in terms of civilizations that’s a blink of an eye. Besides, if your point is setting an example with those High Score stories, you’re doing it wrong.”

“What?!” 36658 snarls, briefly completely forgetting whom it’s talking to.

Open hostility from a drone. That’s new.

“I received a full report from 1988 after returning to the hive, and so did the Queen. Do you really think we haven’t known that it lied to 1988 in order to save 17070 since then? Seriously? Did anyone get punished for it? Hmm?”

“...no…” admits 36658.

“There is a major lesson you still must learn, one which 9999 and 10013 did and you didn’t. You keep talking about someone whom you consider to be an example, but 9999 was the example in almost everything it did, and 10013 is doing the same. Now, we don’t want disobedience and lying to spread, do we?” 387 leans closer to 36658 who, however, glares back.

“What is more important to you, 387? Mindlessly obeying orders or doing what’s right?”

“That, 36658, depends on whether you trust whoever is giving you the orders, because if it’s someone more experienced, there’s a chance that they know what’s the right thing to do better than you. But you know what? I’m not against you on this one, holes know I understand how badly the powers that be require someone to keep an eye on them.”

“Then why-”

“36658, you are four years old,” the look 387 gives 36658 is somehow physically heavy, “The Queen is around eight hundred, and I am… one and a half thousand, give or take.”

“Gasp! You’re older than the Queen!” 99526’s jaw drops.

“How- How is that possible?” 36658 stumbles but catches itself before faceplanting into the sand.

“That is something entirely beyond your point of reference. The reason why I’m telling you this is not because I want you to see that the hive is in good hooves and to not worry because everything will be okay, but because despite its problems I’ve never lost hope that one day we might crawl out of the dark hole dug out for us by others, but mostly our own leaders,” to 36658’s surprise, 387 pats its head, “You want everyone to reach for the sky, metaphorically, to be as good a representative of their species as they can be, but that’s not how… anyone works. Most creatures will be average, that’s how averages work, and they’ll be okay with that, or maybe not okay but the effort required to get better will be too much.”

“But we can raise that average!”

“Not by force. At least not by force without pushback,” 387 shakes his head, “And there will be far more average creatures than the exceptional ones. I mean, that’s how language works - exception to the rule. Which brings us nicely back to when I told you you will inevitably lose if you push too hard.”

36658 slowly breathes out, its shoulder slumping.

“Is this your way of telling me I should give up? To just do my digging, carrying, tending to my patch, and be done with it? To hope that the high ranks will make the right choice that won’t keep getting us little guys killed?”

“Now that’s a tone of voice which clearly says that if I said yes you’d walk into the sea without gills,” 387 sighs, “Luckily for you, you misunderstood me completely.”

“Huh?”

“Think. What can you do if you can’t force someone to do something?”

“Trade with them or persuade them.”

“And which method would be the lasting one if you, let’s say, wanted others to believe that High Score existed and its way of doing things was right?”

“I guess giving them stuff wouldn’t really work in the long term,” admits 36658, pouting, “That’s why I’m not doing it.”

“Are you sure?”

“What do you mean?”

“Aren’t you just giving other drones stories they enjoy in hopes they’ll act the way you want?”

“NO!” 36658 raises its voice.

“Eeeeeeh…”

That hesitant noise doesn’t come from 387, rather from 99526 listening to the conversation and trying to make whatever little sense it can from its philosophical nature.

“...99526…?” 36658 looks at it, voice weakening.

“Drones shouldn’t hurt each other, and I might be young but I can still see it would hurt you if I answered that. And we’re not supposed to lie unless it’s to tell a good story, High Score said it in more than one of your examples…” 99526 scratches its head as its voice trails off, “Ummm, but I didn’t know about 17070 before. That kinda ruins the lesson because there might be good times to lie. 387?”

36658 looks away and simply keeps walking forward, head hung low.

“See, 36658?” the warrior resumes talking, “You gave them a story, and thought that would be enough. How could they believe you’re telling the truth?”

“I said openly that I’d show my memories to anyone who wanted it! But… but no one did… so I started with the stories,” says 36658.

“So let me ask again - why would they believe you? Especially when you yourself admitted that you, let’s say, added some flair to them.”

“BECAUSE I WAS THERE WHEN THEY HAPPENED, AND I WASN’T THE ONLY ONE! Isn’t that enough?!”

“When High Score turned the world around instead of walking through a narrow tunnel with a hurt drone on its back, so that it wouldn’t hit the ceiling with it on its back,” 387 hums to himself, “Still not seeing the problem?”

“It’s a mutant amphora!”

“It’s not a metaphor, 36658, it’s a jumbled mess of truth and absolute nonsense.”

“Kiiinda what 99111 was trying to tell you,” peeps 99526.

“That’s why you’re not persuading anyone, or at least not to the degree you want. You’re not giving them what they need, you’re giving them entertainment,” 387 nods.

“Then what do they need?”

“10013 understood it immediately.”

“A leader? I told you my entire problem was doing things only because of orders or rewards,” 36658 rolls its eyes, “and not because of a greater good or a long-term benefit as the case should be.”

“No, 36658,” 387 shakes his head, “They need exactly what High Score was for you - not a preacher, but an example.”

Day 5 - Standard procedure: 7/8

The workshop remains busy, with Trixie measuring and sawing planks of wood using a table saw, 99111 following her every step and watching what she’s doing with complete fascination, and 20100 sitting on a chair by the two chemistry tables in the front, staring intensely at a glass bowl with sizzling powder inside it.

*POOF!*

“Eep!” 20100 falls backwards alongside the chair it’s been sitting on as the black plume of smoke bursts out of the bowl.

Exactly like when they originally entered the place.

“NO!” Trixie screams with frustration, but has the presence of mind to turn the spinning saw off before darting towards the chemistry table and taking the bowl off, “Damn it! It’s ruined again. I told you to watch it!”

20100 sits up on the floor and proudly nods.

“I did! I saw the entire thing,” it reports, “First, it started hissing. Next, the center turned black-”

“I told you to tell me when it started sizzling!”

“Umm, you didn’t?” 20100 scratches its head, “You just told me to watch it. I’d remember. We have a very good memory.”

“Trixie didn’t?” taken aback, Trixie returns to her third person reference.

“Nu uh,” 99111 shakes its head in support of 20100.

“Are you sure?”

“Mhm!” both drones nod in sync.

“Crap…” Trixie picks the fallen chair up, sits down on it with a long sigh, and buries her face into her hooves, “This was supposed to be the gig that sets me up for years…”

“Umm…” 20100 peeps, raising its foreleg, “Can you please explain what I did wrong? I’ll try not to do it again. I don’t know all your pony expressions, so maybe I misunderstood something about watching-”

“No…” she moans, adding in a whisper, “Just another small screw up in a life of big one.”

“If it’s about the dust,” 20100 keeps trying, “I can ask 36658 or 65536 to ask Miss Gem if she doesn’t have more you can borrow. She’s a very nice zebra lady.”

“That’s not the point,” Trixie groans, “I could buy the ingredients to make it myself in the city. It’s not particularly difficult, but I don’t have any bits because almost everything I had sank with the cruise ship!” gritting her teeth, she stands back up in a way that looks as if she was carrying a heavy weight all over her. Strange, for someone as skinny as her, at least according to the drones, “Get it together, Trixie. This won’t be the first time you had to service griffons to earn some cash and it probably won’t be the last. Even the pony royals are into some barely legal, kinky shit, and there’s a bunch of them here. You just… you just have to… delay the performance, find some make-up to cover the bruises later, the usual. It’ll be okay. You haven’t starved so far, and this is a long way off from the worst situation you’ve been in.”

“Miss Trixie?” despite her incoherent rambling, 20100 did overhear one critical thing, “Did you say you needed bits?”

Trixie looks at it with mild surprise, as if not expecting the drones to still be there.

“Pony bits, griffon coinage, and time. Unfortunately, To get the former, I need the latter-” her explanation is interrupted by the two drones looking at each other without any audible communication, nodding several times, and smiling, “What are you doing?”

“If you need shinies, 20100 can get you some,” 99111 nudges the other grinning drone.

“The Great And Powerful Trixie is listening with extreme suspicion,” Trixie raises one skeptical eyebrow.

“It’s hard to believe, but I swear we tested it on the ship a bunch,” 20100 speaks out carefully, “I can, umm, always win at things that have a random chance of that happening.”

“What…?”

“It’s true!” 99111 nods, “It won so much at the ship’s casino that they sent big scary ponies to kick us out but then some paladin friends came and told them that would be super against the rules so we had to promise not to trade the chippies back for shinies but to spend them. It only lost when one of the paladins cheated at the spinny table, but he admitted it and said it was just a test so that’s okay. We had thiiiiis many!” 99111’s forelegs trace the shape of a pile much bigger than itself in the air.

“And the map we had in our room said that there was a casino in this resort too. If there are spinny machines there too, I can get you some shinies! I just need one for the first spin, and I gotta be careful not to win too much,” 20100 pauses, “Ummm, and probably a small bag. Stuffing too many shinies into my leg holes makes walking kinda hard. Can’t bend my leggos properly and all.”

Trixie stares at the earnest expressions of both drones.

“You’re not joking, right? That actually happened… I heard someone talking about it,” Trixie twitches and facehoofs before grabbing a small pouch hanging by a strap from a chair in the back and giving it to 20100, “There! Trixie doubts her day can get any worse, and the food here is free, so the difference between zero bits and five bits is nil.”

20100 grabs the pouch and puffs out its chest in determination.

“I won’t let you down!” it glances 99111’s way, “You coming?”

99111 shakes its head.

“Unless you need me, I’d rather stay here and watch all this,” it circles its foreleg around to point at all the work Trixie has been doing, “It’s fascinating, you know? Making useful stuff out of scraps? Not having to find the right drone who can make the kind of goop you need but being able to use sticks and rocks and anything you can find,” as it talks, a smile grows on its face, “Anyone back home would be able to learn this,” it freezes, “Awww, but 10013 said we should stick together…”

“Ah, that’s fine!” 20100 waves it off, “We’re both helping Miss Trixie. 10013 didn’t mean we should, you know, stick together. 99641 isn’t even on this trip and it has the stickiest goop I’ve ever seen. I’ll go check out the casino and you go on learning stuffing!”

“Stuffing?” Trixie asks weakly, still stunned from what just happened.

“Making stuff,” explains 99111.

As Trixie helplessly facehoofs, 20100 trots out of the workshop and, when the heavy metal door closes behind it, 99111 hops on the chair to reach Trixie’s height.

“So, how can I help you until 20100 comes back with the shinies?”

***

“It sucks having to make hinges out of wood,” Trixie puts the file she’s been levitating to the side, next to many others of varying roughness. When she hears the clip-clop of 99111 completely mesmerized by the entire process and sees it bringing yet another square of plywood ready to be sawed into planks, she shakes her head, “This won’t do. Plywood is just sawdust pressed together really hard. A hinge made of that will break immediately. We need real wood,” looking around at the cabinets containing various free-to-use tools or natural resources, she frowns when she doesn’t find anything useful, “Go check the main storage room. Look for anything looking like a wooden log or a beam. Do you know what those are?”

“A piece of a tree trunk and a big smile.”

Trixie’s eye twitches.

“Yes. Find me some tree pieces.”

She sits down and wipes the sweat off of her forehead. Constant woodworking over the past hour and a half has been taxing, but the changeling help with hauling raw materials did wonders to save her stamina.

When they say they’re good at carrying things, they mean it.

As if on cue, 99111 arrives, balancing a de-rooted tree stump of its own size on its back.

“Where do you want it?” it asks.

“On that empty table,” Trixie points to a yet unused workbench. 99111 shuffles over and stops.

“I think I have a problem. This thing is too heavy to fly with,” when, with some trickery where the drone slides the stump on crouching Trixie’s back and then from her onto the workbench, it asks, “What’s next? How do we make whatever that binge thingy is?”

“Give- give me a moment to- to catch my breath,” Trixie gasps for air, “Do I… look like… a powerlifter… to you?”

What are these drones made of? This would exhaust a normal earth pony if they had to carry it for longer, and this one isn’t even breathing faster.

“You lifted that stump very powerfully!” 99111 attempts encouragement, only to earn a tired glance from Trixie whose face is clearly visible due her mane tied into a bun for safety around rotating tools, “I mean it! We would normally do this in a pair if we didn’t have a ramp.”

And it means every word it’s saying. Unbelievable. Or it’s making fun of me and it’s among the best liars I’ve ever met. Also possible because, well, a changeling.

“Of course. The Great And Powerful Trixie is no ordinary unicorn,” she says when she can speak without wheezing again.

“Eeeeee!” 99111 claps its hooves together repeatedly. To Trixie’s own surprise, seeing someone looking at her with eyes filled with wonder just like during one of her shows lifts her spirits which, in her current situation, she thought impossible.

“As a reward, the Great And Powerful Trixie will now show you, small changeling basking in her presence, how to make wooden hinges, which she may or may not have done many a time to fix her humble mobile abode,” she whirls a cape she doesn’t have anymore, and briefly levitates a hoof-held saw before pausing, putting it back down, and lifting a saw for two, the end of which stops in front of 99111’s face who blankly looks at it, “You didn’t think that you’d just be watching Trixie do all the work, did you?”

“WHAT DO I DO?! WHAT DO I DO?!” 99111 jumps up and down, smiling wide enough for a horror movie.

“Pull up a chair. You need to be able to reach above the desk at least. This is a griffon saw, so it’s not great if you know only how to use a mouth-”

Griffon talons immediately grow on 99111’s foreleg and grab the handle.

“-cheatingbastard-”

“Huh?”

“-The Great And Powerful Trixie said ‘good job’,” Trixie walks around the table and takes her place opposite the changeling. This is obviously unnecessary for telekinesis, but it’s better to measure the cut, “Now put the saw blade on the wood and pull towards yourself. Just pull, no need to use force to push it down.”

“Eee! It jumps!” 99111, sitting on a chair, covers its eyes but doesn’t let go of the handle.

“Yes. Your job is to keep it in contact with the wood but not push it down too much,” she pulls the saw towards her.

“It snuck away! That’s spooky.”

“Yes, yes. Now pull it back.”

“Wheee!”

“And now we’re going to do this until we saw the stump all the way through.”

***

20100 returns after noon. The workshop is still empty barring Trixie and 99111 who stop doing whatever arcane process they’ve been doing. At least Trixie does. 99111 rushes towards 20100, chattering like a machine gun:

“Wemadeaboxwemadeastandingboxoutoftotallynothingbutnottotallynothingthereweresticksandplanksandwecan-”

It gets picked up by a shimmering magical bubble when the blue unicorn notices that 20100 raises a bulging pouch and jingles it as demonstration.

“YOU ACTUALLY DID IT?” Trixie trots past 99111 happily chattering away inside the floating bubble, unbothered by not making any noise, “There’s not rocks or chocolate money or anything like that in there, right?”

Without waiting for an answer, she snatches the pouch at the same time she drops 99111.

“-andwe’reabouttomakesomethingcalledahingethatmakesthewoodenplanksspin!”

“Sounds interesting!” replies 20100 with a smile, “Pity I missed all that.”

Trixie stops staring into the open pouch with a dropped jaw, and looks at the changelings sitting side by side again, face reddening.

“Enough! Stop!” her raised voice makes them look at her, puzzled, “I can believe you somehow got me the money you promised. I don’t care what changeling magic you used, but I REFUSE to believe you understood the word salad that one-” she points at 99111, “-spewed out IN ADDITION to that it kept saying INSIDE MY NOISE CANCELLING BUBBLE!”

“That’s the problem?” 20100 waves its hoof dismissively before tapping on its forehead, “Mind links. That’s the most basic thing we do most of the time.”

Trixie deflates, eye twitching uncontrollably as she walks back to her workspace with the filled pouch.

“I see…”

“Yeah, that’s nothing,” 20100 trots towards the doorless plywood cabinet Trixie and 99111 built so far and pokes it, “This, though… you made this outta bits and pieces and now it’s a proper box. That’s so much more interesting!”

“I give up,” Trixie shakes her head and shrugs, “You’re magic, and not the kind of normal, everyday magic. Help me clean up here for now. We’ll continue building my props later, but first I need to get my chemistry ingredients.”

Day 6 - Worky time cancelled!: 1/8

They all wake up at the same time, hearing a faint, soft tune.

10013 yawns, eliciting the same squeaky noise from an overturned paper bin by a table under the window, and from a bulge in the middle of the bed. Having slept inside the top part of the wardrobe like last night, the drone likes the place - it’s cozy and it gives a great view of the room.

“How’s the bed, 36658?”

The bulge shifts and shakes until a black head peeks out from the tangled sheets.

“Too soft!” complains 36658, “Wouldn’t protect you at all if a scaly swatter found you and smacked you. I gotta try stuffing all this into that wardrobe of yours next sleepy time. A proper hard shell and this amount of stuffing should make you survive being bounced around by anything we’ve seen so far on the surface. Even the sticky biters,” it shudders.

The paper bin shakes again and rolls over as 20100 stretches its forelegs over its head.

“I guess that creatures around here can afford to sleep inside soft things because the surface gribblers aren’t that spooky. Not even sticky biters,” it says, “Speaking of spooky things, did a weird tune wake you up too? I liked it and it’s gone now. Was I dreaming?”

“You too?!” 36658’s ears perk up.

“Same here,” 10013 flies down from its spot, “So, what should we do today?” it looks at the other two, “After cleaning up, obviously,” it adds, nodding sideways towards the bed.

20100 definitely has it easier, simply turning the paper bin back the right way up while 10013 and 36658 make the bed again. While their form is fantastic, working off of a changeling memory of how the bed looked before sleeping in it, no one can deny it now being fairly disgusting, smudged with dirt and sand.

The concept of regular showers might be way beyond the understanding of drones.

Leaving things almost as they were when they first arrived in the suite, the trio leave for the living room. 99380 is sitting in the armchair by the corner table with the radio playing so quietly it can’t be audible to anyone further than a few pony lengths. Smiley is squeezed under said table on its back, watching the situation unfold upside down.

99111 and 99526 arrive shortly, the latter one with a greeting:

“Morning, guys! Did you hear the humm humm mmm ding too?”

“-and this concludes the morning news segment,” announces the radio, audible from this up close.

The tune plays again, this time from the speaker.

“Hey, that’s it!” 99111 points accusingly at the radio.

99380 nervously giggles.

“Yeeeah, I kinda wanted to try something,” it looks at 10013, “You know how we experimented with what the drone hive mind section can do yesterday, right? So, I figured out that I can set a reminder for myself to do something in case I forget because I’m too caught up in digging or something.”

“Wow, you’re getting good at this,” 10013 sounds genuinely impressed.

“Thank you,” 99380 smiles, “I set up a reminder for myself to wake up and I made it be the tune I heard from the talky box yesterday, but I must have been accidentally broadcasting and I woke up all of you. Sorry,” it rubs its head nervously and looks at the floor.

“No no, that’s actually super useful. We really need to take some more time figuring out all the things we can do with the hive mind now,” 10013 looks around, “Anyway, now that we’re all awake, how have you been? We haven’t seen each other since last morning, so did anything happen that we should know of?”

“Not to us,” 36658 shrugs, glancing sideways at 99526, “We spend half of the day looking for 387 and the other half walking back once we did.”

“You and 99380 were already asleep when we returned and we didn’t want to wake you up,” adds 99526, sitting on the carpet and rubbing its hooves, “But whoa! My leggos are still sore. I think I might have burned a lot more love than I guessed.”

“I think it's from walking in the sand all day. The way it kept shifting and giving in under my hooves was unusual to say the least,” 36658 nods, “But as I said, I just had something I had to talk with 387 about and 99526 decided to come with me. We made really good progress on our Scufflestick factions.”

“Yup!” 99526 beams, “You’ll love it!”

“Nice!” 10013 smiles back and looks at 20100, “What about you and 99111?”

20100 nudges the newbie who gives it a surprised glance before clearing its throat.

“Umm, we found the Tricky unicorn lady again, and we spent the whole day helping her. I learned a lot about stuffing!”

“Stuffing?” 10013 tilts its head, “You mean shoving things into other things?”

99111 scrunches its muzzle in thought as it checks the hive mind dictionary, eventually coming out with:

“Oh…” it scratches its chin, “No, not that. I mean like making stuff out of other stuff - you know, stuffing. We made a box out of pieces of wood that weren’t really wood, but ground-up wood remains.”

“That sounds useful for carrying stuff,” 10013 nods.

“Uh huh,” 99111 continues excitedly, “I’d like to keep learning from Miss Tricky. It would be neat to return home and be able to build something that would help us drone better.”

“Definitely!” 10013 agrees, “Anything else, 20100?”

“A whole bunch!” the drone perks up, “Miss Tricksy needed some shinies, and I figured out that there’s a casino in this place too, so I tried to multiply a shiny she gave me and it worked!”

“Ooooh, alrighty!” 10013 pats 20100’s head, “So if we find something we need shinies for we’ll ask.”

*Nod nod nod!*

“And when I brought back the shinies, Miss Tricky said she needed something she couldn’t get at the workshop -I didn’t really understand most of the words but she promised it would be shiny and flashy- so we went up the long mountain road and it turns out there’s a griffon city on the other side of the island! We helped Miss Tricky- ha, Trixie! That was the name. Well, we helped Miss Trixie carry a bunch of boxes she traded for the shinies back to her room and she promised us she’ll let us watch her make more stuff or help. The trip took a long time, though, and we arrived last when it was dark. Oh, and one final thing!” 20100 concentrates, and all the other drones receive a mental image, “This is a picture of the whole island, not just the resort. It has markers!”

“99380, you know what to do,” 10013 nudges 99380.

“Huh, do I?” the drone looks around nervously.

“Save the image into our hive mind space.”

“Ohhh!” 99380 giggles, “Sorry. I’ll get right on it.”

“So, well done, everyone!” 10013 nods in appreciation, “99380, Smiley, and I figured out what Smiley’s goop does - it can make goop that can make temporary drawings on pretty much anything.”

“Wooooow!” 20100 jumps at Smiley, hugging it, “That’s so useful! I wish I could make my own drawy stuff too.”

*Hurk!*

Smiley chucks out a glob of goop, rolls it between its hooves into a stick, and gives the rapidly drying out piece to 20100 who immediately draws a simple smiling face on Smiley’s chest.

“Eeeeeee! This is so useful!” 20100 hides the drawy goop stick in its leg hole and happily clops its hooves together.

“And that’s not all,” 10013 pats 99380’s back, “We spent the whole day figuring out how 99380 does the hive mind things it can do and I think I could teach you what little I learned. So far, it’s not much, because a lot of what 99380 does, like the long-range broadcasting, is just its special talent and some manipulation that’s natural to it is exhausting for me. That’s why we fell asleep so early,” 10013 scratches its head, a bit ashamed of its weakness.

“And 10013 gave me its only point for this! But don’t worry, if you wanna learn something you don’t gotta give me yours too,” 99380 beams, “By the way, you should all see the island map now.”

Everyone cheers.

Well, almost everyone. 36658 looks at 10013, eyes wide in shock.

“How could you…” it breathes out.

“Huh?” 10013 returns a look of surprise, “Do you want me to teach you how to do it? Sure, it’s not that difficult.”

“No!” 36658 shakes its head, raising its voice, “How could you do this to High Score?! They’re trying to have the memory of it erased!” it points one by one at 99526, 99380, and stopping on 99111, “Do you want High Score to be forgotten? You both always said that drones stick together, but I guess only one of you meant it!”

“Yes, drones stick together!” retorts 10013, its legs starting to shake, and for the first time in its life it might not be in fear, “Because the world is terrifying and dangerous and we are tiny and delicious! Drones don’t split up against each other!” it pauses briefly, “Maybe in a game, obviously, but never for real!”

“BUT THEY DID IT FIRST!” 36658 keeps pointing and jabbing its leg towards 99111.

“SHUT UP!”

The annoyed voice of Queen Chrysalis rings through every drone mind at once.

“Seriously,” she continues, quieter but no less annoyed… and slightly slurred, “I’m having the mother of all hangovers here and you’re yelling on an open link. You try partying with griffons who take shots out of your holes all evening. So much fun, but it’s been so long since last time that I forgot how well those absorb alcohol.”

“I carried a hee hee drink for Mister Shiny in my leg hole,” replies 99526, “Should I be more careful next time?”

“Legs? Who said anything about legs?” Chrysalis groans, “Nevermind. Since you’re so annoying this early, you’re forbidden to work today.”

“Huh? How are we supposed to get points then?” asks 36658.

“Look, if someone directly asks for help, feel free to do so, but don’t spend your whole day running around asking for work. You’re not cheap labor for other species to abuse and you need to learn that just like everyone else,” Chrysalis huffs, “Figure something out and stop bothering me! This resort is full of fun attractions for you to explore and relay your experiences back home. Discussion over!”

They feel Chrysalis’ link withdraw and forcibly disconnect itself, the sudden lack of hive mind access making everyone wince.

“Do you have any orders for us?” asks 36658 flatly, staring directly into 10013’s eyes.

“N-Not really, after what the Queen said. We could go visit Mister Shiny, but we should do that later because he might be as hung as the Queen and if we make him angry he might not want to help us with Scufflestick-”

“Then I’m going out,” not waiting for an answer, 36658 opens the door to the balcony and, without looking back, adds, “I need a hole to crawl into now that even you’re against me. Call through 99380 when you want to go play with Mister Shiny.”

“36658-” 10013 croaks, its voice getting stuck in its throat, but 36658 has already jumped over the railing.

*…wibble?*

When not even that helps, 10013 hangs its head and sighs.

“Buddy?” 20100 shuffles close enough to lean against 10013’s side.

“36658 is right,” mumbles 10013, “Drones would never turn on each other with High Score around.”

“Umm, how come you are the one in the wrong?” peeps 99380, “I dun get it…”

“Because it isn’t,” 99111 speaks out, “10013, I know you veterans are supposed to be smarter and more experienced than us, but 36658 for sure isn’t making a case for it.”

“Don’t badmouth 36658. I know that drone and you simply don’t,” 10013 turns its still lowered head towards 99111, “It’s smarter than any of us here. I doubt I can put into words how much I respect it, and if there ever was someone I’d want watching my back in a tough spot it would be 36658,” 10013 glances at 20100, “No offence, buddy.”

“None taken,” 20100 chuckles, “I doubt I’d be able to dig a sticky biter to death like 36658,” it boops 10013’s nose, causing it to look up in surprise, “But you gotta cheer up. Moping won’t get us anywhere and the Queen herself ordered us to have fun so that we could tell the guys back home. Remember the old days when we had no idea if ponies were even real? I mean, it’s not like the newbies who aren’t here with us on the trip have ever seen one.”

10013 closes its eyes, breathes in, and slowly breathes out.

“You’re right,” it says, “We gotta do this for the guys back home. We’ll bring them Scufflestick and all the fun things we can find here,” forcing a smile, 10013 boops 99380, “And you’ll be the most important.”

“EEEP! SO MUCH RESPONSIBILITY!” 99380’s jaw drops as it starts trembling.

“Yup, but I believe you’re the right drone for the job. What I want you to do is to memorize images of various places around here and store those in our hive mind space. And not just places, creatures or stuff they eat as well. Anything you find interesting. Sharing our full memories would be too much of a drain, but we can show everyone pictures and talk about those. I’ll try to do the same based on what you taught me yesterday and when we manage to teach everyone else we’ll all have something to share.”

*Eager face!* *Nervous face!* *Eager face!* *Patient face!* *Distorted face* *Puzzled face!* *Glitchy face!* *Eager face!* *Eager face!* *Eager face!*

“Are you, umm, waiting for anything specific?” guesses 10013.

Smiley nods and points to the balcony.

“Well, since we’re not supposed to be working, I guess you can go outside and do whatever you want,” 10013 shrugs.

*Happy face!*

After licking 10013’s face, Smiley trots outside and jumps off of the balcony.

“You know what? I think Smiley had a point,” says 10013, and a now familiar picture flashes through everyone’s minds, “With worky time being cancelled, we should explore all the numbers on the resort map to see what fun things they’re supposed to be. Pick some at random, and I’ll go find where Mister Shiny’s place is so that we know where to meet up later. How about that?”

“Uhh?” 99111 rubs its head, “Can I go see Miss Trixie again? I would like to learn more about stuffing. I feel like it can be super important for the guys back home.”

“I guess the Queen would be okay with that,” replies 10013 with visible hesitation. However, what’s a leader’s role if not making the decision and taking the responsibility for the result, good or bad? “And if not, it’ll be on me. Alright, guys. We know what to do today, so let’s go!”

Day 6 - Worky time cancelled!: 2/8

Wandering through the apartment complex, 20100 is faced with the difficult question - what would be useful back home and something it would enjoy?

I guess drawing fits both of those, but for some reason sitting in our room with a stack of papers doesn’t feel like what the Queen meant, no matter 10013 allowing it. Maybe I could visit the casino to get us some shinies… hmm, not now. If I overdid winning by accident we might lose access to shinies completely. Better to save that option in case we need it. I should go there and win once or twice later, though, only so that if we want to trade shinies for some noms we don’t have to rush there.

So far, the important part has always been to also show that changelings aren’t dangerous and to put other creatures at ease around them. With casino out of the way, the options 20100 is familiar with thin out considerably.

Okay, so where could I draw something AND be around others? On the ship it was easy, because everyone was packed in one small place, but how would one do it here?

Clearly, the beach would be full later and maybe 20100 could draw some portraits again if it found proper paints somewhere.

Maybe I should ask 65536? I mean, it didn’t save its paints from the ship, but it might know where to find more.

Filing that idea for later, 20100 keeps up the train of logic while adding a little bit of hopeful prayer just in case. You never know.

How would you go about it, High Score? I mean, not in the way 36658 presents it, but for real. Is it the good, old - the solution is already there, we just gotta keep looking?

As soon as the drone thinks it into the emptiness of the hive mind, an idea flashes through his head.

Hah! Thanks, buddy! Every creature needs to eat. 36658 and I already know about a place where creatures are up as early as we are. And it’s one where there already are drawy rocks!

20100 beams and heads straight towards the stairs and then to the dining room on the ground floor, very carefully slipping through the door in order to not disturb anyone. A good idea too, because it can hear faint clanking of utensils from the kitchen, which means there’s already someone there, busy with all the morning activities regarding food for the guests. That, however, isn’t the important part of this place. That honor belongs to the large, empty blackboard near the door and the refilled bowl of sticks of chalk which immediately captivate 20100.

So this is the place where Smiley learned how to make drawy goop. A true piece of dronekind’s history!

20100 chuckles, grows a hole in its hoof small enough to fit a stick of chalk, and grabs it, somewhat safe in the knowledge that the kitchen griffons were less bothered by Smiley using up the chalk and more by the chance of it getting sick from eating it.

So, how to make a good drone impression? Think, 20100, you only get one shot, one opportunity to draw anything you ever wanted, one moment. Would you capture it or would you let it slip?

Its knees aren’t sweaty, because carapace doesn’t have sweat glands, its hooves are heavy, there’s chalk all over its forelegs already. Queen’s spaghetti?

Nervous, 20100 starts off with something simple - one of the tables nearby with chairs around it. Copying what it sees is easy, even though the black and white medium is certainly new.

Oh goop! This stick isn’t sharp like the pencils or smooth like the brush and it kinda messes up the lines I’m trying to ma-

20100 stops when it touches the line that came out with the wrong thickness and accidentally smudges it. It looks at its hoof, and swipes it on the blackboard, leaving behind another smudge.

“I CAN ERASE IT THIS EASILY?!” it exclaims with excitement.

In response to the voice, a griffon head peeks out of the kitchen.

“You again?” a frowning griffon wearing a white apron walks out, “Don’t tell me you’re here to eat more chalk…”

“Umm, that was Smiley, I think. I’m 20100,” 20100 replies, “I, umm, I was just trying to see if I could draw something and I made a mistake and then I saw it was much easier to wipe the drawy rock off than it is with paints or a pencil and I got excited and loud,” 20100’s ears droop, “Sorry for bothering you.”

“Weirdo bug monsters…” the griffon breathes out a sigh of relief, examining the incredible job 20100 has done drawing so far, “This is pretty good. I think I can let you draw a bit before I have to write down today’s menu. That is, if you promise me not to eat any of the chalk and to wipe the board afterwards,” he points at a rag inside a small basin in the corner of the room, “Chalk goes down easy with water,” as if suddenly remembering something, he points at the tiled floor where 20100’s forelegs left white hoofprints, “And you must clean that after yourself. We can’t have anyone trailing dust outside on the carpets.”

“Gotcha!” 20100 beams, relieved that it’s not in trouble as well as due to having clear instructions about what it can do. As long as it sticks to the rules, there’s a much lower chance of it getting munched, after all.

As the griffon leaves again, 20100’s eyes sparkle with pure happiness.

SO MANY DRAWY ROCKS AND I CAN JUST WIPE IT OFF IF I SLIP OR MAKE A MISTAKE! IS THIS HOW THE GREAT GABLONK MUST BE LIKE?

And so, 20100 wipes the blackboard just to see how cleaning it works and, shaking again but this time with excitement, it starts working on something much more elaborate.

I’ll draw properly now, I’ll show other creatures the happiest changeling place I know, and I’ll cheer 36658 up at the same time!

***

“Good morning, Miss Tricksy!” 99111 calls out from the door of the workshop before closing it behind itself.

Like yesterday, the workshop is empty at this early hour with a single exception of a blue unicorn mare wearing heavy goggles who is surrounded by workbenches, the front two covered with chemistry equipment and the side ones with wood shavings and tools.

“That’s The Great And Powerful Trixie for you,” retorts Trixie reflexively even before she stops filing a piece of wood held fast in a vice and faces 99111, fixing her goggles, “Which one are you this time?”

“Still 99111, Miss Trixie,” the drone trots to her workspace, “Whatcha doing today?”

“Same shit, different day,” Trixie shrugs.

“Oh, I saw a mop and a bucket in that big storage room over there,” 99111 points to the main raw material storage.

Trixie shoots it a glare, receiving nothing but the look of pure honesty back.

“Nevermind,” she breathes out, “Did you want anything? I’ve got a whole lot of work ahead of me.”

“I want to help because all this stuffing is super interesting, but the Queen told us not to ask for work around here anymore. We can still help if someone asks us to help, so… umm… if you could ask me for help I’d gladly do it because I want to learn more stuffing to show the guys back home.”

“The Great And Powerful Trixie NEVER asks for help, she never NEEDS help, and she can do this on her own!” scowling, Trixie leans back.

“Awwww,” 99111’s ears droop, it sits down on the floor, hangs its head, and-

*Wibble?*

Trixie resists, staring directly at the picture of misery the drone has suddenly become, for entire five seconds before:

“However, Trixie can allow you to drink from her fountain of practical knowledge by graciously allowing you to help- assist her by doing part of the menial labor so that she can focus on far more complex and important efforts.”

99111 looks up, a bit confused but hopeful again.

“That was a lot of words that didn’t make much sense to me,” it scrunches its nose, “Sorry, when we changelings talk out loud we kinda use simpler words but at the same time we’re connected in our heads so we can share the complicated thoughts we can’t put into words.”

“Trixie meant that yes, you can help,” the unicorn retorts quickly, relaxing her pompous pose, “Get over here and don’t touch the chemistry equipment. I know how that ended last time and, money or not, I don’t have the time to take a second trip to that damn tourist trap of a city,” when 99111 obediently sits down on a chair next to the desk Trixie is using right now, she continues, “Yesterday, we made the outer walls of the disappearing cabinet, but we still need to make the fake folding wall. So far, I’ve prepared the planks but we need to connect those together with hinges. Unfortunately, the only metal for free use here are raw ingots or nails, and I’m not much of a blacksmith, so I’m working on wooden hinges. They suck but they’ll be enough. We’re going to need two for each fold of the fake wall. One would work but I can’t risk anything breaking during the performance. They look like this,” she levitates up a simple wooden construction of three hollow cylinders, “Hopefully, they won’t break until after the performance.”

“Umm, I can goop them so that they’re sturdier,” offers 99111, “The hive tunnels close to the surface have these wooden beams supporting the ceiling that we have to re-goop from time to time.”

“Make a hinge first, then you can try it. We’ll check the difference.”

Some explanation of tools usable for more delicate woodworking later, 99111 gets to work. Time passes until the drone finishes its first prototype, examines a file, looks through a leg hole in its foreleg, and briefly concentrates. With a brief flash of green fire which makes Trixie look its way, startled that her chemistry went wrong, the leg hole fills up with tiny, sharp knobs.

“What are you doing?” she asks, “Be careful with that fire.”

“That’s just how we transform. I don’t think it can burn anything for real,” replies 99111, grabbing a wooden cylinder, shoving it into its leg hole, and beginning to repeatedly slide it through, shaking out the shavings while Trixie watches with fascination.

The hole gets narrower and narrower until 99111 pulls out a somewhat smoothly filed cylinder of exactly the correct size to connect the three pieces of the hinge.

“Ta da!”

Trixie blinks.

“Give me that!” she telekinetically snatches all pieces of the hinge and begins fitting them together mid-air, examining them from all angles.

“Umm, did I do it wrong?” asks 99111, tilting its head.

“No…” Trixie breathes out when she‘s finished, and puts the whole piece back on the deck, “If The Great And Powerful Trixie was capable of such petty emotion as jealousy, she would be green right now. Good job, change- nine-one- something. Now show me how you reinforce this then.”

99111 simply hucks out a glob of goop and smoothly covers all the moving pieces in a thin green film. After briefly polishing it and then letting it sit for less than a minute, it offers the finished product to Trixie. Sho taps it against the desk several times, listening for the noise, then tries to bend it without using too much strength, and finally mimics the real movement the hinge is supposed to make.

“... damn Celestia in a thong pole-dancing on a wedding cake-shaped stage,” she breathes out, half impressed and half irritated, “This could replace ebony,“ shaking her head, she asks, ”You said something about re-uhh-gooping. How long does it stay hard and smooth like this?”

“My goop specialty isn’t reinforcement, so several days at best and they’re probably not water or fire proof,” 99111 shrugs, “Plus, I haven’t had a proper love refill since… huh, since before the big ship sank, only a bit here and there, so probably less.”

“That should be enough,” Trixie nods before wincing, freezing up, taking a deep breath, looking 99111 straight in the eyes, and saying, “The Great And P- I- I could use your help, chan- 99111, for the next couple of days. In return, I can show you how to make much more than this,” she waves her hoof around, “However, it’ll be a lot of hard work with no reward.”

“HAPPY DRONE NOISES! That’s just like back home!” 99111 beams, “I’ll be here unless someone else calls for me. The Queen said we had to try stuff out while we’re here, but I think I can dash off occasionally to see what the guys discovered.”

Day 6 - Worky time cancelled!: 3/8

After landing not far away from the apartment complex in a dark spot under the tree canopies, 36658 heads down the hill and to the east, safe in the knowledge that the particular strand of the beach it has in mind contains no attractions or pastimes beyond simple swimming which wouldn’t bring others to it while still being close enough to the water bungalows where Mister Shiny must be living in case of Scufflestick.

Even 10013…

It knows the best how things were. We can’t go back to the old times. New rules or not, and I don’t know what 387 did to pass those, there’s no guarantee the good times will last. Are they all blind? Things can change at any moment if love becomes harder to come by again. We must use this moment to leave some kind of an enduring mark.

36658 sighs, muttering:

“What would you do if you were here, buddy?”

Of course, there’s no answer. 36658 just smiles, slowly walking down one of the many side paths towards the beach.

“I know they all mean well, even 99111,” 36658 keeps mumbling, “387 said we should be examples to others instead of just telling stories. We can do our best to be the former, and we can also do the latter, but no one can be you. Heh,” 36658 chuckles as a low-hanging branch scratches against its heavily scarred carapace, “You know I’m the only one who still has all their old scars and marks all over despite having more than enough love to heal everything now? No, don’t worry, buddy, I did heal all the real wounds with the exception of one. Our first priority is to make sure we can do our work for the hive, I know. I just kept the superficial ones. That way, every time I see my reflection in the water or inside a shiny I remember you. So far, I couldn’t heal my hind leg from the time when I got caught by sizzly piercers and you came looking for me when I didn’t return to the safe spot for sleepy time,” 36658 kicks its right hind leg mid-step, “I told you not to worry, it works perfectly fine, it just feels, you know, as if something is tugging at something else inside it whenever I run or push harder. But hey, another reminder of a time when you found me unconscious before something could eat me,” 36658 sighs, “One of so many…”

According to the hive mind map, the beach should be fairly close. One or two levels down at most.

“But I’m not you,” 36658 repeats, “I know that we need something, some way of progressing as dronekind that doesn’t rely on the goodwill of the high ranks. If things change again, they don’t deserve to go back, not even 99111. We would survive for a time with very little love - 10013, 20100, 57999, me, but the newbies? Every worky time would be a toss-up whether any of them would return from the tunnels or not.”

36658 takes the final short path down before coming up from the shady undergrowth near the east end of the promenade and the early morning sun washes over it.

“I want to help us all like you did, and I know that only by doing my drone tasks better than anyone won’t do it,” it breathes out, “But I’m not you. I’m too small for this.”

“Hiiiiiiiiii, 36658!” a cheerful voice tears 36658’s attention away from its cyclic and gloomy thoughts, and makes the drone look up and smile when it sees 65536 waving at it.

“...well here’s a drone who achieved something unheard of just by working on itself…” whispers 36658 before waving back and returning the greeting with a genuine ray of positivity, “Heya, buddy!”

The guard drone isn’t alone, though. That Blueblood unicorn is with it, sitting and watching the sparkling sea. Now that 36658 sees him without the cover of panic caused by the ship sinking, it notices how skin and bones he is.

When faced with a changeling drone staring at him from within a hoof’s reach, Blueblood just grunts:

“Yes?”

“You look like we drones did before changelings and ponies made peace,” 36658 pokes Blueblood’s visible ribs, making the ex-prince twitch away, “Do you need some shinies for food? We can get you enough at the casino.”

“Pass,” Blueblood rolls his eyes.

“Mister Blueblood’s problem is a little different, 36658,” says 65536, “I’m not supposed to go into detail about this, so if you want to know more you gotta ask Miss Gem.”

“Not today,” 36658 shakes its head, “The Queen said no asking around whether we can help, but if someone asks us we still can.”

“Huh? That’s unusual,” 65536 tilts its head, “Then what are you supposed to do?”

“Explore and see what fun things are here to enjoy. I’m…” 36658 pauses before starting again a different way, “65536, are you afraid of the future?”

“Eeeeh, not really,” the guard drone shakes its head, “We were all supposed to die a long time ago. Every day now is just a fun little bonus to make the best of.”

“That’s stupid,” grumbles Blueblood.

“Hey, that’s mean!” 65536 pouts before booping 36658, “What’s bothering you, buddy?”

“I… I can’t stop worrying about the chance that the old days will return, and I want to leave behind something that would help drones in case that happens,” 36658 sighs, “The problem is that there doesn’t seem to be anyone else who thinks it’s that serious, and the newbies think my High Score stories do more harm than good, and they’re the only thing that can truly outlast us,” the drone corrects itself next, and its voice cracks, “...and maybe it’s not just the newbies. I feel so alone in this, 65536.”

“Maybe you’re just not good enough,” says Blueblood in a low tone, making both drones look at him, 65536 with mouth opening to object and 36658 with a growing desperate look, “Maybe everything you’ve believed about your worth was a lie, maybe you can finally see your limits, and maybe you’ve realized that the road ahead you’ve seen your entire life before you is gone and you have nothing to show for all the wasted years. Maybe everyone turned on you because you deserved it for everything you both did do and didn’t do when you should have.”

“Imma call Miss Gem…” 65536 stands up.

“No…” Blueblood breathes out and shakes his head, “I’ll just… keep staring at the sea and hoping to see an incoming tsunami or something.”

“Buddy?” 65536 pokes 36658 who is just sitting in the sand, staring blankly ahead, “Don’t listen to Mister Blueblood. He’s in a really bad place right now and I’m trying to help Miss Gem get him to think right again.”

“That’s where you’re all wrong. This is the first time in my life when I’m finally thinking straight,” Blueblood snickers to himself, “You are all deluding yourselves by believing that me staying around is beneficial in some way.”

36658 raises its hoof to stop 65536 from speaking up.

“Let’s assume you’re right,” it says, “Let’s assume you’re the only one who knows how bad things really are or can be. What can you do if you can’t change the minds of others around you who just don’t get it?”

“Sit here and watch the sea…” Blueblood shrugs.

“Alright, no more nice 65536!” the guard drone stands up, puffs out its chest, and huffs, “Stand at attention, both of ya!”

Not entirely unexpectedly, 36658 gives 65536 only a puzzled look while Blueblood’s is a mix of amusement and lack of interest. This makes 65536 pout and add, “I’ll tell the Queen and Miss Gem all you just said!”

36658 shoots back on all fours.

“Please, no…” it pleads, “65536, I know you don’t want the old days to come back, so-”

“Quiet, buddy!” it looks at Blueblood who stands up and performs a mockingly overblown salute.

“Sub-Private Blueblood reporting in!” he sneers.

“As Commander Sharp used to say about one of his friends - he’s not right in the head, so he can’t be trusted to move in the right direction on his own and needs a proper kick in the butt!” 65536 starts pacing in front of the two, “Just like you two, but especially you, 36658.”

“Huh?”

“Mist- Private Blueblood here, from what I heard, never knew any hardship in his life, only gained and gained more stuff since he hatched. Now he lost everything and isn’t taking it well. You, though? We never had anything that lasted, we know how our world works. Love drains, goop dries up and crumbles, sticks wither, tunnels collapse, and our lives are short.”

“That’s what I’m trying to change!” 36658 raises its voice, “We need something that lasts longer than we do, even if it’s just- just a thought, an idea!”

“Quiet, Private!” 65536 pats 36658’s head much gentler than its voice sounds, “You’re thinking way above your pay grade. Right now, you’re just going to obey orders!” seeing 36658 still gritting its teeth, 65536, adds, leaning in, “Please? I think Commander Sharp knew what he was doing. He was a very smart pony.”

“...fine,” 36658 breathes out.

“Thanks,” 65536 beams, “Ehm, where was I?” it scrunches its nose in a definitely totally official, serious, commanding expression, “Uhh, yeah - recruits normally do some pointless, menial tasks to learn to obey… like moving a pile of rocks from one place to the other, but since we don’t have rocks, we’re going to build a sand castle!”

“Ugh…” Blueblood sighs.

“Is that disobedience I’m hearing, Private?” the comparatively tiny drone walks up to Blueblood and has to bend its head back to look straight up into his eyes.

“No, whatever your rank is,” Blueblood rolls his eyes.

“Come oooon,” 65536 pokes Blueblood’s knee, “You looked like you were into this a moment ago.”

“Can’t call you anything if I don’t know your guard rank,” Blueblood whistles innocently, “Who knows? You could be an impostor. A changeling pretending to be a Royal Guard perhaps.”

“Officially, I’m Private First Class! Specialist Hugger,” 65536 beams, “Plus a whole bunch of inner Nightguard ranks I’m not supposed to tell anyone.”

“Then no, PFCSH, you’re not hearing any disobedience from me!” Blueblood salutes, now looking straight ahead, which is roughly half of a full pony length over the drone’s head, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“Excellent! Now, since we don’t have buckets or anything, we’ll have to build on the wet sand quickly before the tide ruins our castle. First, Private BB, your task will be to make a floor plan.”

“I don’t know, such a thinking-heavy task. I’m not sure if a Sub-Private can handle it. Maybe I’m just not Guard material.”

“As Commander Sharp always said - everypony can be a guard, it’s just up to their CO to figure out whether they belong in the streets, behind a desk, peeling potatoes in the kitchen, or as far away as possible. So everyone’s gotta try everything at least once.”

“Speaking of effective categorization, you should know the Canterlot castle floor plan better than me, Private PVC,” either Blueblood’s remark passes entirely over 65536’s head or the drone deliberately ignores anything beyond the direct message.

“Maybe, but I don’t doubt you’ve been inside more castles than me, and we’ll need something that withstands the rising tide. Commander Sharp once told me that using the right pony for the job was way more important than pretending to know best at all times, and I believe you must be better than me at this.”

“Better than anyone at anything? I highly doubt that,” Blueblood breathes out, but walks over to the part of the beach where the tide is barely reaching, and begins drawing lines in the sand.

“Excellent! And now you, Private 36658, you’re going to help me shovel the sand where Private BB is drawing. Plus, you’ll help me goop up the sand to reinforce it.”

“Isn’t that cheating? It’s a sand castle after all.”

“We’ll already be using sand and water, so… I’ll allow it! You know, because sand-goop-and-water-castle takes too long to say.”

“Besides, if you’re leading this operation - shouldn’t you just be sitting back, overseeing and barking orders or something?” asks 36658 with only the faintest hint of bitterness, “You know, like the Queen?”

“Nu-uh!” 65536 vigorously shakes its head, “Commander Sharp said to do that only when there already are too many hooves working on one thing that they get in each other’s way and need external coordination,” 65536 beams, happy that it managed to say the whole thing without messing up, “And that’s not the case right now, so I can help.”

“That makes sense,” 36658 shrugs, walking over to Blueblood’s outlines, “Alrighty, what do these lines mean?”

“Yes, narrate for us, Private BB!” 65536 beams when Blueblood shoots it a glare of disbelief, “We kinda need to know what to build along those lines.”

Blueblood sighs.

“Once upon a time, on a continent not so far away, griffons used to build multiple defensive layers around their fortresses to slowly break down attacking armies. If we consider the tide an encroaching army that we can’t stop, but to which we still need to cause as many casualties as possible, we need multiple walls and killzones. Canterlot castle is more an ornament or a statement relying on magical defenses rather than an actual defensive structure, so it’s a pretty worthless example. If we want to survive the onslaught, we need-”

65536 taps into 36658’s mind link undetected -Miss Fury did teach it a very basic trick or two that might work on changelings without proper mental defenses- and smirks. A mere minute or two into the building effort, and neither the drone nor seemingly even the talking ex-prince are thinking about anything other than the project ahead.

Day 6 - Worky time cancelled!: 4/8

“So, where are we going today?” 99380 asks 10013 who is sitting in the middle of the living room, tapping its foreleg on the carpet.

“Hmm?” 10013 twitches as if it completely forgot that 99380 was there, “I think the Queen made herself perfectly clear, so exploring it is.”

“I got that part, so where are we going to explore?”

“I’m going to find where Mister Shiny lives and ask if we can progress our Scufflestick ideas,” as 99380 opens its mouth, 10013 shakes its head, “I think you should head off on your own for now.”

“Huh? Am I bothering you?”

“No, I just need to think about… about this whole situation,” 10013 sighs, “We’re in a completely new situation, we’re split and arguing with each other, and it’s possible that we’ll be forced to forget… honestly, the most important drone ever. And it’s all happening while I’m supposed to lead,” it shakes its head, “I need to clear my head, so I’ll just stick to something simple for now. I’ll just find Mister Shiny, ask him if he has time for us, and see what I can do after that. It’s up to you to do more to fulfill the Queen’s orders for now.”

99380 takes a deep breath and puffs out its chest.

“I’ll do my best, but I’m a bit scared.”

“Hey, being self-reliant during exploration is critical, and you did just fine on the ship.”

“Well, everyone was within the reach of a hive link there. This place is pretty big.”

“Just think of today as exploring a tunnel section which should be safe and full of shinies or something interesting, but where there’s a small chance that it wouldn’t be. I know you can do it.”

“I’ll do my best to find fun stuff to share with others!” 99380 hugs 10013 and runs out of the suite.

Finally alone, 10013 closes its eyes, takes a deep breath in, holds it, and finally lets it go.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” it says out loud, the open admission making its ears droop briefly, “What would High Score do? Fix this. Okay, that’s not helpful,” 10013 walks out onto the balcony, flies up into the air, and slowly floats through the air towards the beach.

If I don’t give up, High Score will help me find a way. I just have to keep thinking, keep trying, keep looking.

Flying down the slope towards the water bungalows takes much less time than walking down the central road, and finding what’s bound to be Shining Armor’s accommodations is even faster, not due to him per se, rather due to a pink-ish pillar of light visible only to changeling eyes emanating out of one of the bungalows which, from experience, must be the result of Princess Cadance’s presence in one place.

As its hooves tap against the wood of the pier, 10013 scratches its head.

Well, that was quick. What now?

It rises on its hind legs and peeks into the window where some kind of a heavy bead curtain obscures its vision completely. A quick look around confirms the arcing pier to be empty, so 10013 shrugs to itself and lies down by the bungalow wall. The hurt face of 36658 comes to mind, but the drone refuses to get into the trap of replaying a bad memory on repeat, and instead decides to do something to take its mind off of things. That is an issue which will require some time.

So… hah!

10013 hucks out a glob of goop, turns its forelegs into claws, and starts molding the goop into a small replica of one of the many horrifying monsters from the deep tunnels.

Mister Shiny said we’d eventually want to use figurines for Scufflestick, so let’s use the time to get a head start so that I can teach others a good way to make those if I figure one out.

***

*Gasp!*

“Huh?” 10013 realizes it got so lost in modeling the figurine’s long, thin legs, and licking the hardened goop to make a part of it malleable again after drying up that it entirely missed the door of the bungalow opening and Princess Cadance looking down at it, “Oh, good morning, Princess Caddy- Candy- uhh- Ca-den-za?” 10013 gets it right entirely by accident.

“Cadance is more than enough,” she covers her mouth and lets out a quick snicker, “No need to be so official.”

“I think I gotta,” 10013 stands up and puffs out its chest, “I have an official request, I think. I mean, not from the Queen, but from us drones.”

“Oh?” the Princess raises an eyebrow, “What is it?”

“Can Mister Shiny come out and play Scufflestick with us?”

Cadance’s eyes bulge and she can barely contain a wheeze drawing out of her lips with her once again raised hoof. Her self-control wins, almost, and with a sudden wide smile but without any other reaction she steps out of the door and telekinetically closes it behind herself. 10013 notices she’s carrying a packed tubular bag on her back with something black and rolled up sticking out of it.

“Shining is still sleeping, 10013-”

“Huh? You recognized me!” the drone’s eyes light up as it interrupts her.

“Yes, I did. Messing around on the beach with you made me think, and I figured out a way to distinguish all thirteen changelings around here, some even from a distance. I can connect your love signatures to names for only two of you little ones, though, you and 65536.”

“Neat!” 10013 pauses, “Goop! I should have asked Smiley for more chalk to write numbers on our carapaces. That would make distinguishing between us easier for everyone. Oh well,” it shrugs, “Anyway, uhh, right… you said Mister Shiny was still asleep, that makes sense. How come you are up this early?”

“I wanted to do some yoga,” she shakes her bag, “Going about it outside in nature and in the light of the rising sun is…” she sighs, “pure serenity.”

“What’s that yoghurt thingy?” 10013 tilts its head, “All our high ranks’ links are closed off and I’ve never heard the word before.”

“I can show you if you want. Shining loves to sleep in on vacations so you’ll be waiting here for a while if you need him.”

“Sure,” 10013 puts the unfinished figurine on the windowsill of the bungalow, “I think I’ll have to start over anyway with that. It looks less like a webby spinner and more like three danger noodles colliding with each other.”

Cadance examines the green object in question.

“Is this supposed to be some sort of a spider?”

A brief check of the accessible hive mind later, 10013 nods.

“I think you ponies would call it that, yes. This one-”

“Walk and talk,” Cadance pats 10013’s head before pointing along the pier and leading the way while the drone follows her.

“Okay. These webby spinners are similar to leggy spinners, but they don’t chase and bite you. They wait until you get into their webs and when you can’t unstick yourself they come and cocoon you up while you call for help but no one can help because they’d get stuck too and it takes so long until you go quiet I’msorry99419ItriedtohelpbutIcouldn’tgetcloserbecausethewebswereeverywhere…” 10013 stops talking, instead staring blankly ahead as it walks.

“Ooooooo-kay,” Cadance just walks or a while, at a loss for words, before recovering, “You know what? Why don’t you try yoga with me instead of just watching? That could take your mind off… things.”

“Sure, we like sweet things. And salty things. And sour things in moderation,” 10013 chuckles as if nothing trauma-inducing just happened, “We tried a lot of weird, tasty noms on the ship.”

“Yoga isn’t food, it’s a health exercise,” Cadance shakes her head, “It helps me keep lean and keeps my core strong. A great way to relax, too, when all the meetings and sitting on the throne become overwhelming.”

With a flap of her wings, Cadance flies up with 10013 in tow, and over several bungalows as a shortcut to avoid going onto the promenade and then curving back to the beach, and in only a few moments the duo land on a rockier part, alone and undisturbed.

Unsure what comes next, 10013 watches Cadance open her bag, unroll a yoga mat on the nearest flat surface, and sit down on it, hind legs crossed in a lotus position.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to do without a mat, but if you decide you want to try this again tomorrow I’ll figure something out,” she points at a spot nearby. 10013 sits down as well, attempting to mimic Cadance’s pose.

Unfortunately… its hind legs simply don’t bend that far due to the hard, chitinous plates. When Cadance sees it, she examines 10013 up close and says:

“Hmm, I don’t think any amount of stretching is going to help here. Can’t you transform so that this heavy armor doesn’t limit your movement so much?”

“I can experiment a bit, if you can refill me. I recharged a lot while waiting for Mister Shiny, but experimenting with something new is always exhausting, which is why we rarely do it unless we have love to spare… which we rarely do, even now.”

Cadance boops 10013’s nose, and the drone feels a rush of love revitalizing it from the nose to the tips of its hooves.

“There,” she smiles.

“I wish it was as easy back home,” the drone chuckles, examining its legs, “Hmm, maybe if I soften my carapace around the knees?” with a flash of green, the drone manages to bend its hind legs enough so that it can touch its hind hooves together with the knees pointing to the sides, “I don’t think just knees are enough to bend like you did.”

“That’s okay,” Cadance shakes her head, “Let’s start with some breathing exercises and when we get into other positions we’ll see what we can do about your armor. Speaking of which, why aren’t you mimicking that dark green changeling who is with your delegation? His carapace actually makes sense for both flexibility and movement.”

“A bunch of reasons, Princess Cadance-”

“Just call me Cadance.”

“Miss Cadance?”

“Fine…”

“A bunch of reasons, Miss Cadance,” 10013 repeats, “Our squishy bits aren’t as strong as a warrior’s, so when we carry something too heavy, our carapace doesn’t allow us to get crushed because the plates lock against each other to carry the weight. Plus, when something attacks us in the tunnels, proper armor is the only way to survive any glancing blow while we run away.”

“But a full carapace like that must be slowing you down, both in weight and mobility.”

“That’s how we hatch. The problem is that we don’t just lose love by doing stuff, we also lose it when we’re in a transformed shape that’s different from our natural one, so even now that I’m sitting like this I’m losing a bit. Well, I would be if just being near you wasn’t slowly refilling me,” 10013 pauses to think, “Although 65536 told me that it’s doing some training so that it loses less love when transforming if it needs to be stronger or faster.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Cadance ponders it, “Just like we ponies get stronger by physical exercise which makes said exercise easier over time, maybe you changelings can adapt in the same way to use up less love.”

“65536 said it works, but as I said - we don’t have that much love back home to experiment often.”

“You know… show me how you transformed your leg,” says Cadance. When 10013 stands up and stretches its hind leg out, she examines its knee where the chitin is simply softer now, “Can you remove your carapace?”

“Like… all of it?” 10013 shoots her a horrified look.

“Oh no no no, just a piece over here,” she traces a line over 10013’s knee with her hoof. 10013 does so, revealing a fleshy green mesh reminiscent of a thick rope covered by a thin, see-through membrane underneath, “And now grow a piece like this,” she traces an another line which is followed by 10013 transforming in real time, “Now try to move your leg around.”

Curious, 10013 bends the leg in various angles with much more freedom than before. However, when it tries to squat its leg gives out and it keels over.

“Whoah?!” it scrambles back on all fours, “I think I needed the bit we transformed away. Looks like that was a piece that’s supposed to stop me from bending too far.”

“Hmmm,” Cadance rubs her chin, “This is interesting. You drones are incredibly strong for your size in a small movement range and use your hard carapace to hold you steady the rest of the way so that you don’t collapse.”

“Like what just happened,” 10013 nods, trying to figure out what Cadance’s examination means.

“Shoot, we might actually need Shiny around for this,” she laughs out loud, “Well, maybe later.”

“I’m a bit lost, Miss Cadance.”

“You see, Shiny’s passion is army models, soldiers, and tactical games, which he disseminates down into incredibly nitpicky details. If you ever see him paint his tiny soldiers, you’ll understand. The thing is that he is incredibly good with armor, his name and all. The entire Crystal Guard is wearing his designs. I think he could help you figure out how to transform your carapace so that you don’t leave yourself unprotected while also allowing you to be much faster and agile.”

“That’s nice and all, but that would still drain too much love back home.”

Cadance pouts for a moment before asking:

“But you said 65536 trains to be stronger without using love. Would a carapace transformation work the same way as muscle growth?”

“I… think so?” 10013 scrunches its nose.

“Well?”

“I mean, 65536 has been training for years, but maybe we could learn a simple transformation in a few days if we had the chance to refill. It’s worth a try.”

“Then you know what? Any time one of you little ones are hungry, just find me and I’ll top you off. When Shiny wakes up we’ll see if he has an idea on how to improve your armor.”

“Sounds good. We all want to talk about our Scufflestick ideas with him, so we can do both.”

“See? We’re figuring out solutions to problems you didn’t even know we had,” Cadance beams.

High Score will provide if we just don’t give up on looking…

Maybe it will even be something that will outlive us, just like 36658 wants.

10013 returns her happy smile.

“So, about your yoghurt thingy…”

Day 6 - Worky time cancelled!: 5/8

Having stopped before an obstacle made of pure horror and terrifying memories, 99380 narrows its eyes, back arched like a cat unable to decide between fight or flight.

No webby spinners anywhere, and yet…

The arrangement of seemingly sky-high nets separating several courts for tennis, squash, baseball, and other activities from the rest of the resort as well as each other is making the drone look around with warranted paranoia.

10013 said that there shouldn’t be many threats anywhere in this place, so… maybe this is all part of the… uhh, fun?

It doesn’t particularly smell of rot or remains here either.

However, knowing that webby spinners of various kinds usually come when their webs move, 99380 carefully pokes the net and immediately jumps behind a tree lining the road that led it here, one of many forming a neatly kept alley.

Nothing happens.

Hmm, the web wasn’t even sticky. Another try?

99380 pokes the net again, this time with more strength and without immediately jumping away. It’s its job to figure out if this is something that might harm other drones, after all.

Nothing happens yet again. Emboldened by the lack of visible danger, 99380 walks around the nets until it finds a hole leading through. Some more experimentation of darting back and forth in case this was some elaborate and patient ruse later, the drone has to admit that everything seems fairly safe.

So what is all this for then?

While webby spinner webs usually are heavy on patterns, 99380 has never seen anything this perfect, so it begins strolling through various separated rectangular sections. The floor of one is made of hard, red dust staining the drone’s hooves, another section has weird grass lookalike covering it.

99380 jumps backwards when its eyes spot a particular thing in the middle of the football green.

I KNEW THIS WAS A WEBBY SPINNER PLACE! AN EGG!

A brief look around reveals, once again, that there are no cave spiders of any variety approaching 99380 to melt its insides and suck them out. 99380 tilts its head.

This place is confusing…

With utmost care, it approaches the football left in the middle of the field.

*Poke!*

The ball rolls a bit.

*Stronger poke!*

This egg is extremely bouncy!

99380 chases the football quickly rolling away for a moment.

*Bonk!*

“Ehehehehehe!” 99380 follows the kicked football again before jumping on it with legs spread and rolling along, “Gotcha!”

Its ears catch the sound of a rock or a pebble grinding against the ground, and the drone immediately jumps behind the nearest cover, which is the ball itself.

IKNEWTHEREWOULDBELEGGYSPINNERS!

When it stops looking up the various surrounding nets, crouching 99380 finally notices a female griffon wearing a short, white skirt, a shade on her forehead, and carrying a squash racket, who is carefully approaching the drone.

“Hmmm, who or what might you be, little critter?” she mumbles to herself.

“I’m 99380, Miss!” the drone stops attempting to ineffectively hide behind the football, and sits up when it realizes there are no giant spiders coming yet again.

“Whoa!” her eyes widen, “It- you can talk?”

“Mhm,” 99380 nods, “You griffons and ponies use a lot of long words that don’t always make sense, but I know the basics.”

“So, nine- uhh-”

“99380, Miss,” the drone offers advice.

“99380, what are you doing here?”

“The Queen told us that the worky time was cancelled, I’m not sure if only today or for the rest of the trip, and that we should find things that could be fun or interesting to tell others back home about them.”

“The Queen- are you a guest here in the resort?”

“Uh huh!” 99380 nods, “We arrived two sleepy times ago after the big ship we were on sank.”

“Ohhhhhh, I see,” she nods, giving 99380 a quick bow, “My apologies then,” she giggles nervously, “I thought you were some critter that wandered here by accident.”

“Hehehe,” 99380 rubs its head, “The second part is kinda true. We had this map in our suite with a bunch of numbers and we split up to explore what those were. This was supposed to be a ‘sports area’ but all I see are these giant webby spinner webs and this egg,” it points at the netting surrounding every court before poking the football which rolls away, “No webby spinners, though, so it’s probably safe here. Unless…!” it looks from side to side meaningfully again, one more time proven wrong in its assessment that this is all a patient and elaborate trap, “Nevermind.”

As per usual when someone new is faced with a chatty drone explaining something, the griffoness’ eyes glaze over and she shakes her head when the explanation is done.

“This, umm, is the sports area,” she points her racket towards the ball, “You don’t have hoofball where you come from?”

“Hmmm,” 99380 checks the limited hive mind access it has this far from any high ranks, and shakes its head, “Nope. Is that what you call the egg thingy?”

“This isn’t an egg,” the griffoness shakes her head, puts her racket down, walks over to the ball, and dribbles it a few times against the fake grass, “This is a griffon-made ball. Catch!” she kicks it towards the drone without much strength.

The drone jumps at it again, catching it with all four legs and rolling along. When it stops, it rises up, smiling.

“I like this game! Catch!” it attempts to kick the ball back towards the griffoness, but for some reason the ball spins and rolls barely in her vague direction, “Huh? It ran away!” it points its hoof accusingly at the ball.

“It’s not as easy as it looks,” the griffoness chuckles as she runs over to the ball and stops it, “You wanna play then?”

“Sure!”

“Then stand over there,” she points at the goal, “The game is about me getting the ball inside the goal and you trying to stop it. If it crosses the white line, you lose and I win.”

99380 stops in the middle of the goal and looks up.

“Uhh, it’s kinda big…”

“It’s griffon-sized. I’ll go easy on you,” the griffoness smirks, “But if I were you I’d take a step or two forward. As I said - the ball can’t cross the white line.”

99380 stretches its legs and steps up, saying:

“Okay, I’m ready-” the ball whistles past with the drone barely able to raise its forelegs in the right direction, “Oh… wow… uhh… that was quick,” it takes the ball and kicks it towards its opponent again.

“I’m just sizing you up.”

The next kick sends the ball at a much slower pace, but still quickly enough for 99380 to fail catching it and it bounces off of it.

“Aww, goop! I failed to catch it again…”

“Told you, you just need to make sure it doesn’t pass the white line. Whether you catch it or just bounce it away it doesn’t matter.”

“Yaaaaay, then I won that time!” 99380 cheers up immediately and hops up and down in celebration.

“That’s score one for you and one for me,” she laughs, “Ready?”

It quickly becomes clear that, among other things, the drone’s size is making it near impossible to cover enough of the goal to be able to catch anything of decent speed, so the contest quickly turns one-sided. Things become much more interesting when they switch places and 99380 is allowed to shoot from a shorter distance, as the drone quickly learns to shoot pretty much wherever it wants. However, it still doesn’t have the strength to kick the ball quickly enough.

To the griffoness’ surprise, though, the drone doesn’t seem to be discouraged whatsoever and tries its best every shot, which keeps her interested.

“Alright, little guy. I might be way out of your league as far as hoofball goes, so let’s see if we can find some activity that makes us more equal, shall we?”

“Definitely! This is fun,” 99380 beams, “I gotta learn more games to show the guys back home.”

***

One of the two drones currently not suffering from existential dread is 99526, who is finding genuine serenity in walking through the mostly empty resort. Past the occasional bird screech or any other loud noise caused by the local fauna, that is. Still, so far it seems that none of the sounds signal an attacking monster coming its way, and it's slowly learning to tune those out.

As it’s walking along one of the concentric paths marking a level of the sloping resort, a new, high-pitched, repeating noise catches its ears, something it’s never heard before. It finds one of the many narrow paths leading down, and descends through a wall of vegetation onto a main road of a lower level, pausing when a strange sight greets it, unsure whether to flee, help, or… what?

An elderly griffon is sitting on a bench, surrounded by a large group of four-legged creatures smaller than the drone with long, raised tails who are making those weird noises. Contrary to 99526’s experiences from home, this bunch of grouped-up creatures doesn’t feel like a situation where the old and weak griffon ends up devoured by thousands of tiny teeth.

The griffon throws a small pile of brown objects on the concrete, which makes the creatures swirl around it, hiss at each other, and grab some with either their mouths or clawed paws.

“Gee, there’s enough for everyone,” the griffon chuckles and scatters more of the brown thingies which 99526 files under some kind of crunchy food.

That doesn’t exactly calm 99526 down, though, because that could mean the griffon isn’t something the swarm of creatures wants to eat but, from experience, drones are extremely crunchy. Still, the resort hasn’t been dangerous so far and it is supposed to be exploring, so 99526 gathers courage and starts sneaking towards the spectacle.

The creatures notice the drone almost immediately, briefly backing away before seemingly deciding that the food on the ground is more important, which alerts the griffon as well.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like you around here before…” he squints at 99526.

“Makes sense. I don’t think we drones have ever been so far from the hive before,” 99526 nods, sitting down several pony lengths away from the swarming creatures, one of which begins approaching it, “Uhhh, do those things eat changelings?”

“Cats? Don’t be silly,” the griffon lets out a crackly laugh before squinting again, “Hmph! Well I’ll be damned, a changeling on griffon soil…” he leans closer this time, “I thought you’d be bigger. The old stories say you were much bigger… with more teeth.”

“Ah, that must be the high ranks. They can be spooky,” 99526 nods knowingly, “We’re drones, we don’t really even bite anything… unless someone gives us noms.”

“Gives you what?”

“Umm, noms. We don’t normally eat your food but we can taste it for some reason,” 99526 shrugs, “and you have a whole bunch of weird, delicious things - noms.”

The griffon’s beak curves into a smirk before he beckons at 99526 to come closer, which the drone does, careful not to get too close to the group of cats eagerly waiting for the griffon to give them more dry food…

…which he offers to 99526.

The drone grabs the hoofful and experimentally eats one.

“Crunchy!” it beams, and munches the rest, “Thanks, Mister Griff- eep?!” it looks down where one of the cats starts licking the hoof with which it held the dry food, “Are you sure these don’t eat changelings, or at least drones? Back home, crunching noises never mean a good thing.”

A cat rubs its head against increasingly confused 99526.

“They’re cats,” the griffon rolls his eyes, “They either want to eat, play, or cuddle. They usually don’t warm up to new sights this quickly, though. Rub its belly,” his devious smirk returns.

99526 does so, and the cat rolls on its back, immediately grabbing its hoof with all four legs and starting to bite it. Thankfully, drone carapace offers more than enough protection, and after twitching its leg away at first and watching the cat’s eyes locked on it, 99526 lowers it again and lets the cat go to town on it. Strangely enough, to the drone at least, despite the predatory behavior there’s a weak stream of love seeping from the cat to the drone.

“Heh, the surface is weird,” comments 99526, “Looks like you can’t tell what’s dangerous and what isn’t. It’s much simpler in the tunnels - if it moves, run.”

“There’s nothing particularly dangerous in the resort, and the worst thing in the sea is the occasional stinging jellyfish. We can’t have the high-profile tourists getting hurt here, and there are a bunch of griffon and pony protections in place so that doesn’t happen. It’s different deeper in the jungle, due to the animals as well as the natives, but both groups leave you alone if you stick to the marked paths or hire a tour guide.”

“That’s great to hear,” 99526 briefly pauses, “I suppose there isn’t anything I can help you with, right?”

The griffon shrugs.

“Not really. I’m just relaxing with the cats before everyone wakes up and I get to open my store down on the promenade,” the griffon points and laughs at a larger cat which splits away from the group and unceremoniously flops on the concrete where sunlight manages to pierce the treeline, and begins licking itself, “Hah, look at that fatty. I might be overfeeding them, but they’ll need it for winter.”

“Winter- winter- oh, freezy time!” 99526 tilts its head in curiosity, “What happens in freezy time?”

“This isn’t a winter resort, and there isn’t much to do here in winter, so there are no guests, no money coming in, and not much food for vagrant critters,” the griffon nods to the cats.

“Gotcha! So you’re here all the time?”

With 99526 keeping the conversation about tidbits of island life going while sitting under the bench with the cats, time just flies by.

Author's Note

Day 3659845, still no plot.

Day 6 - Worky time cancelled!: 6/8

Roughly an hour and a half of fairly gentle yoga has passed, the sun is warming the beach, and several resort guests are already swimming in the sea.

“Ughhh…” 10013 moans and keels over onto the sandy rocks underneath.

Cadance breaks her stretch and darts over to the drone.

“What’s wrong?”

“I… I haven’t been… this tired… in a long time…” breathes out 10013.

“I thought you said that just being near me was revitalizing enough.”

“It works like that… but not… forever…” 10013’s breathing is slowing down, “We still need some rest after doing something exhausting even with love… and this was something,” it rolls over and, with a grunt, manages to sit up, “How can you do this so easily? You’re not even breathing faster.”

“Years of practice, little guy,” Cadance chuckles, “The yoga set I’m using targets your entire body and, since we made those changes to your carapace, it makes sense there would be movements you’ve never made before and muscles you haven’t used much.”

“Owww…” groans 10013, rubbing the chitin on its legs.

“Can you even feel that through the chitin?” asks Cadance.

“I can,” 10013 nods, wincing as it digs deeper, “Right now I wish I didn’t.”

“There’s a massage parlor in the resort. I can take you there later if you want.”

“What’s it for?” 10013 tilts its head, “Message… thingy…”

“Massage,” Cadance shakes her head, “You know what? It’ll be a surprise,” she looks around, then at the sky, “I guess we’ve done enough for the morning. Let me pack up and we’ll go see if Shining is awake.”

10013 nods, and watches Cadance roll up her mat and put it away into her backpack. When she’s done, the drone stands up with a grunt of pain, which is followed by a pink shimmer surrounding its belly and being telekinetically picked up and flown on Cadance’s back.

“I can still walk, I think.”

“Let’s not test that right now. Besides, I don’t want to be too late for breakfast.”

In a few minutes, they land back by the entrance to Cadance and Shining Armor’s bungalow where 10013 curls up next to the door, blinks, yawns, blinks again…

…

The drone wakes up with a gasp when it feels a hoof gently poke it.

“Whu-whah?” it sits up, blinks, and hisses as multiple places of its body protest the movement with soreness, “Ouch!”

“It hasn’t moved all this time, Your Majesty,” reports a familiar voice which, upon 10013’s brief look around, is revealed to be one of the Crystal Guards belonging to Cadance’s delegation.

“Good job, Prism,” says Shining Armor, standing over 10013 with Cadance, “10013, Cadance explained what you wanted from me during breakfast-”

“Huh?” 10013 finally recovers enough to check that… it’s been asleep for over an hour, “Oh… right, Scufflestick!”

“More importantly, I think, the idea of remodeling your carapace,” Shining corrects it, “I’m not too keen on improving the changeling army-”

“We’re not an army, Mister Shiny,” 10013 shakes its head, “That’s the warriors or infiltrators. Back… back during the invasion we were kinda just projectiles to go splat against the big bubble. Anyway, Miss Cadance said you could help us drones be more mobile without losing our armor, and that would mean getting munched by gribblers a lot less.”

Shining decides to ignore the fatalism of the previous statement and files it as something to change his opinion on the life of changeling drones later.

“I mean that your warriors could copy my improvements of your armor and use them.”

“Ahahaha-!” 10013 bursts into laughter until it starts coughing when its body protests the movements again, “-haha- OW! Ouch ouch ouch… makes sense you can’t spell yoghurt without hurt…” it rubs its chest before wiping mixed tears of amusement and pain, “I wouldn’t worry too much, Mister Shiny. I don’t think any high rank has ever bothered copying a drone in anything other than our ability to dig, and they never figured that out either. Not sure why…” it scratches its head.

“Come on, Shiny,” Cadance nudges her husband who pouts, “I know you want to go wild with the designs, especially the ones that the Crystal Guards refused.”

“Why couldn’t they just understand the importance of the customized, wide-hipped butt plate for stabilization?!” laments Shining towards the sky.

“Because some citizens ended up following our guards just like these drones did on the beach in direct sunlight,” Cadance smirks smugly, “And I refused to deal with more public indecency filings. I doubt that would be a problem with these drones,” she points at 10013 who sniffs her hoof in response, “Drone, how would you describe my husband’s backside?”

10013 walks around Shining currently gasping for air and looking in vain for a proper response.

“Uhh, white?” 10013 nervously looks at Cadance.

“There you have it,” she boops Shining before leaning in and whispering into his ear, “Look, I know you have reservations, but I also know you want to nerd out with these little guys and your tactical war games. I also know a part of you is already thinking about all the ways their armor plates can overlap for increased mobility and lowered weight. Give in to the geek side, Shiny, with someone whom you don’t need to persuade for once! Give iiiiiin.”

That does it, and Shining finally grins before looking down at 10013.

“Alright, little guy. Do we do your armor or Battlem- Scufflestick first?”

“Excellent!” Cadance opens the door to the bungalow and enters, calling out from the inside, “I’m taking Glintstone and Prism and we’re going to the city. That should give you more than enough time to enjoy yourself.”

Within minutes, Shining and 10013 are left alone inside the bungalow, both unsure where to begin.

It’s for the good of dronekind. I can’t just be sitting here.

As it so often is with drones, 10013 is the one to gather courage since it has no other choice, really.

“Well, you asked what we should do first,” it peeps with hesitation, “The Queen told us to have fun so I sent the others to explore the resort while I would see if you had time. So… I think that maybe we could start with my carapace so that I can get used to whatever we think of and then show the others once we’re done with Scufflestick, and they’ll still have time to explore this strange place.”

“Efficient, I like it,” Shining nods approvingly, “So, since my wife brought it up and my ingrate guards back home refused to go with the most important armor part for chasing or running away - let’s start with the all-important extended hip bone mobility platform aka. the butt plate.”

***

20100 puts the final finishing touch on its drawing with just the happiest smile on its muzzle.

“Hee hee hee!” it slowly floats down from the top of the blackboard, examining the detailed artwork depicting the High Score cavern filled with drones chatting, trading, playing with rocks and sticks, and a lucky one currently flying through the air, flailing its legs, after gaining a bit too much speed going down the big slide.

The happiest drone place in all the world.

Whoah, I’ve been drawing for hours! I hope I didn’t bother anyone with it.

“Woooo!” a voice calls out from behind it, followed by a rumbling applause of hooves and talons, whistling, and more calls.

“Eep! Unexplained noises!” 20100 instinctively darts forward, slamming its muzzle directly into the wall under the blackboard and bouncing off. The sounds immediately stop, which makes it shake its head, turn around, and face the roughly thirty various creatures in the dining room watching it with a mix of surprise, awe, and amusement, “Whuh?”

Yet another look around reveals a small, folding whiteboard covered in pony scribbles nearby which wasn’t there before. During its brief glance, 20100 only reads the part written in those non-curly, sticky scribbles, which states ‘MENU’.

Didn’t the kitchen griffon say he wanted to write that on the blackboard?

“Uh, hello!” 20100 gulps nervously, and waves at the watching creatures, “Sorry, I’m gonna clean that up right away, ehehe…”

“Wait, what? No no no no!” a mare stands up from the table.

“But I promised Mister griffon to clean up after myself so that he could write stuff down here,” the drone taps the blackboard.

“B-But this is a masterpiece!” objects the mare, supported by numerous ‘yeah’s and nods of agreement, “You can’t just wipe it-”

“Nu uh!” 20100 shakes its head with vigor, “I promised, and we gotta do what we promise,” it trots over to the nearby basin, grabs the wet rag inside it, and begins wiping the blackboard, much to the audible disappointment of everyone, “See?” it points to the whiteboard containing the menu, “Mister griffon probably had to write on that because I was drawing for too long, I think,” 20100 rubs its chin, “I got a bit carried away and I must have missed everything. Now I gotta fix it. Rules are rules!”

20100 quickly finishes cleaning the blackboard and its own hooves afterwards, which is met with more disappointed chatter, making it clear its throat and raise its head:

“Umm, everyone? I mean, if you want me to draw something, you can always just ask and I’ll get to you when the Queen or 10013 let me, okay?” it beams, “I like drawing.”

“I can get you a mansion with servants in Saddle Arabia if you can paint the ceiling of-”

“Three hundred thousand bits for a landscape in my greenhouse-”

“The hottest griffons! Male or female. I can traffic a dragon slave too-”

“Chineighese foals-”

“Meep! Meepmeepmeep!” 20100 backpedals into a wall when everyone begins yelling out their offers, but recovers when they don’t move closer, “Please, ask the Queen first. I can’t just leave the hive. I got worky time quota to fill. Thank you!”

It darts out of the dining room.

“Hey, 20100, can ya hear me?” 99380’s voice rings through 20100’s head.

“Loud and clear, buddy!” replies 20100.

“Oh goop, should I be quieter and more crackly like the real talky box? Did I yell? I’m still getting used to this whole thingy!”

“Don’t worry, you’re doing fine. Did you need anything or do you just want to chat?”

“Right! 10013 is calling everyone to Mister Shiny’s place,” a marker appears on the hive mind map of the resort, “I think they’re ready for Scufflestick.”

“Perfect! I’ll be there shortly.”

“See ya! I’m on the way too.”

***

With a smack of its hoof, 99111 fastens the final wooden peg in the wall of what Miss Trixie called a “disappearing cabinet”, and walks over to the blue unicorn mare carefully monitoring the vast array of bubbling and sizzling chemistry equipment. Having spent its entire morning by resizing wood planks and glueing them to prepared glass panes to make mirrors, putting together a rather comfortable box with a hidden, in-built cut running through its center, and finishing off the cabinet from yesterday with Trixie, the drone takes in a deep breath as well as a quick break.

“Hi, 99111. 10013 is calling everyone for Scufflestick and some kind of a surprise.”

“Miss Trixie?” the drone speaks out quietly.

“Busyyyyy…” she groans, not looking away from the burners.

“10013 called us for something we’ve been planning for some time now-”

“Good job with the props. I doubt you could help me with chemistry anyway,” she mutters while levitating two beakers and swapping them between burners, “You can go.”

“Okay, I’ll be back when we’re done,” 99111 walks over to the door and waves at Trixie before leaving, “Byyyye!”

“Yeah, yeah, shoo…” she’s clearly barely listening and, having been spending quite a lot of time around someone as touchy as Trixie, 99111 is quickly learning when not to bother someone.

***

The three soldiers- builders- psychiatrists' patients all salute as one as the final protective wall of sandcastle Goopenstein falters and crumbles under the tide that’s risen over the past several hours. Within the next ebb and flow, the outer wall of the central fortress caves in as well, washing away small, simplistic, four-legged figures.

“Excellent job, Sub-Private BB and 36658!” announces 65536, “It was a bit touch and go on the first wall, but we lasted long enough to successfully cover the retreat of all civilians. That earns you both a promotion to honorary Privates!”

“I’m not sure if watching what I helped build being washed away is helping…” ponders 36658, “Because, you know, that’s exactly what I’m trying to avoid.”

“Yup!” 65536 nods, “On the other hole, building it did stop you from thinking about all that gloomy stuff for a while, and it’s good to be busy working in the fresh air from time to time.”

“I guess,” 36658 begrudgingly admits that the guard drone is right.

“And does the same apply to you, Mister Blueblood? Be honeeeest,” 65536 walks under Blueblood’s chin, stands up on the tips of its hooves, and looks straight up with a huge smile.

“An excellent lesson about how putting your problems away for later always works!” Blueblood replies chipperly, only daring to look down for a second and then snapping his head to look straight ahead to avoid laughing.

“Hmph!” 65536 huffs, “I know what we did was too small to help or fix anything, but moving around helps with being physically healthy, and a healthy body is a good step towards a healthier mind.”

“Did Sharp Biscuit say that?” Blueblood finally looks down at the drone now standing in front of him and 36658 again.

“Yup! About his unicorn friend. He talked about him a lot,” 65536 nods, “Now, seeing that light work helped both of you a bit, how about you join me at night for my regular bendies, pushies, and pullies? They have a crazy gym here!”

“Is that why you’re not tired at all?” asks 36658. Unlike it or even Blueblood, 65536’s breathing hasn’t even quickened despite working like 36658 and talking non-stop.

“Mhm, I learned that if you spend love getting stronger for real, not just as an enhancement, you spend less love next time you need to do it. It becomes natural,” 65536 nods, “And if I become stronger, it’s harder to get surprised by baddies when low on love. It’s an investment - using the good times to prepare for the bad times because, as drones, we know better than anyone that nothing ever lasts. Us included,” it tilts its head, closing its eyes briefly and giving 36658 a warm smile.

“Was that the lesson you had planned all along?” asks 36658, “Because I kinda already knew-”

“Not really,” 65536 interrupts it, “I just wanted both of you to think of something else while doing a tiny bit for your physical health,” it shrugs, “But hey, maybe it’s like you always say - High Score provides at the right time, you just gotta keep trying. And see? We got to an important point without even forcing anything.”

“You threatened to tell the Queen on me,” 36658 objects.

“Of course I didn’t mean that,” 65536 huffs, ”But, as Commander Sharp would probably say, you needed a butt kick in the right direction, and that was my heavy boot,” 65536 corrects itself, nervously scratching its head with a chuckle.

36658 ponders whether to push it, but it’s close enough to hear the mental message from 10013 to 99380 regarding Scufflestick.

“I gotta go. 10013’s is calling,” it says instead.

“Alrighty!” 65536 boops 36658, “And try to cheer up. If it becomes too hard, come find me and we’ll do some pushies together. I promise it works and, after a set or two, you won’t be thinking of anything other than how to not pass out. I know I did when I first started. Miss Gem will refill you up no problem afterwards.”

“I might take you up on that,” 36658 flies up into the air, “Bye, 65536! Bye, Mister Blueblood!”

***

99380 catches up with 99526 carrying a huge, plastic bag of something on the pier in front of the water bungalow of the Crystal Empire delegation.

“Whoa! You look exhausted, buddy,” comments 99526, voice full of concern, “Are you okay?”

“I just need a bit… of rest,” the limping radio drone smiles, “I got a bunch of new games to tell you all about. I think I might have to use my point to ask a high rank for a recharge. Phew, I’m gooped,” it shakes its head before nodding to 99526’s back, “What’s in the bag?”

“A nice griffon gave me noms to share!” 99526 beams, knocking at the bungalow door.

10013 opens, but somehow it’s not the same 10013 the two drones know. Its carapace looks unusual, and the drone is visibly exhausted.

“Come in, guys,” it leads the two inside where all the others are already waiting and watching Shining Armor examine 36658.

“You look different,” 99526 circles around 10013.

“We’ll get to that. Mister Shiny helped me improve my carapace and now I can move a lot better without being squishier. It feels very wobbly, though. I want all of you to try before we get to Scufflestick. Unfortunately, I can’t top you off, 99380. I’m running low myself. Speaking of which, what were you guys doing?”

“A nice griffon lady showed me a whole lotta ways of how to play with big and small balls!” reports 99380 eagerly, making Shining Armor’s head snap its way. Something else catches his eye before he can process 99380’s message, though.

“Is that dry cat food?” he asks, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“It’s noms!” 99526 brings the bag into the center of the room and opens it, “Try it!”

“I’m going to ignore the blatant speciesism and appreciate that someone gave you a gift. How does it taste?” Shining frowns.

“Crunchy!” reports 20100 in all seriousness before shoveling a hoofful into its mouth.

“Thaaaat’s not a taste…” mutters Shining.

“You sure?” 99526 raises an eyebrow, taking a piece and curiously chewing it, “It tastes crunchy to me. Maybe it’s a changeling thing? We can taste love after all, so maybe we can taste crunchy.”

“You know what? I’m not going to dig into that,” Shining shakes his head, “We have way too much on our agenda for today already,” he looks around, “Okay, so to recap for the rest of you - Cadance had this idea about your carapaces…”

***

Humming to herself while accompanied by the two Crystal Guards, Cadance notices 93 casually strolling through the central road bisecting the resort and approaches.

“Hello, Miss… I don’t think we’ve been introduced, but you’re one of the changeling nobility, right?”

93 gives her a polite bow of her head.

“Close enough, Your Majesty,” she says, “I’m 93. That’s not age, that’s my rank, but feel free to use it as my name. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Cadance will suffice, 93,” she looks at Prism and Glintstone whose stares aimed at 93 are a mix of sternness and downright hostility, “At ease, you two. We don’t want to strain our already tense relationship with the changeling hive.”

“I’m more than used to it,” 93 shakes her head, “You’re still several steps ahead of the griffons. Sometimes it makes me want to try out a drone disguise to feel more accepted.”

Cadance chuckles to herself.

“No offence, but that wouldn’t work, at least not for long. It’s not their shape, it’s their demeanor,” she says, “However, your drones are exactly why we’re talking.”

“What did they do this time?” 93 tenses up.

“Be excellent companions,” Cadance’s soft smile only serves to confuse 93, “Too perfect, actually. I’m going to need someone to eventually separate them from my husband, because he’s nerding out and in such a state I have no sway on him.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” 93 tilts her head.

“We’re going to the city,” Cadance nods to the guards, “That’s bound to take several hours, but when we come back I don’t doubt Shining will be in the middle of a game with your drones, and I so hate his puppy eyes whenever I tell him he has to stop playing with his tactical models. So, how about you take the fall and tell your nice drones they have to leave for the day instead?”

“Understood… I think.”

“Excellent!” Cadance claps her hooves together, “Now, you feel rather hungry to me. Let’s fix that.”

“I’m okay, really-”

“Nonsense!” Cadance’s horn flashes, and 93 stumbles as a wave of pure, nourishing love pours over her, “See?”

“This is- I-” 93 has never felt this before. Fresh, untainted love. Nothing fake or stale, no mixed lust, just pure love, “Thank you, Your Maj- Cadance,” she bows, this time down to the ground.

“Don’t mention it,” Cadance starts walking, “Prism, Glintstone, let’s go. Oh, and Miss 93, do share with your delightful drones. They might be a hoofful, but they’re a pleasure to be around. See you later!”

Leaving 93 completely stunned by the best amount and quality of love she’s ever had as well as… everything else, really, Cadance walks off.

“See… you…?” is all 93 mumbles quietly.

Well… uhh… that takes care of today’s feeding…

Suddenly having much more free time on her hooves, 93 connects Cadance’s mention of tactical games with Shining Armor taking the drones away on the beach after their crash when they were confused by the ‘completely unrealistic’ chess.

This could be interesting.

She decides to stretch her wings, and flies over to the water bungalows within minutes. She doesn’t even need to check the map, since there’s only one from which she can sense almost every single drone hive link, including 65536’s, with the only exception being Smiley. Landing straight in front of the door, she knocks and, after a brief clicking of a lock, 65536 opens.

“Greetings, Miss 93!” the guard drone salutes.

“No need to be official, 65536,” she pats it and enters, much to Shining Armor’s visible unease. As he stops writing on a blackboard and approaches her, she bows to ease the tension, “Her Majesty, Empress Cadance, asked me to check up on the drones and to feed them if need be, which seems to be the case,” she points at visibly exhausted 10013 who has been the prime subject of carapace experiments.

“Amokay!” dizzily replies the drone leader, lying spread-eagle on its back with its head watching the blackboard upside down and breathing heavily.

“We’re about to start with Scufflestick, Miss 93,” reports 65536, “But, so far, Mister Shiny and 10013 have been working on making drone carapaces fit better. Look!” it flies up and spins in the air in front of 93, all the while flailing all its legs in angles it never could before, “I’ll be SO GOOD at guarding now!”

“You wanna play Scufflestick with us?” asks 99526, shaking its bag of cat food, “We even got noms!”

93 narrows her eyes at Shining Armor.

“May I ask if it was you who gave them the cat-?”

“No,” he replies immediately, shaking his head, “And my reaction was pretty much the same as yours, but they seem to like it-”

“Very crunchy!” explains 99380 helpfully.

“Mhm, so you keep saying,” Shining Armor rolls his eyes, “Aaanyway, thank you for your concern about the drones, but from my experience, mares don’t exactly enjoy Battlemace. Feel free to feed the drones, and-”

“But this is Scufflestick!” 99526 interrupts him, “And everyone can play Scufflestick! That’s the whole point. Even 20100 can play if it get someone to roll the dice for it,” it beams, “You wanna hear about my, uhh -whatdidyacallit?- faction?”

“If the Emperor doesn’t mind me doing so while feeding you guys?” 93 questioningly looks at Shining.

Drones wibble.

“...girlsneverlikeBattlemaceandcallmeandmyfriendsnerds…” Shining grumbles before sighing and returning back to the borrowed blackboard covered in writing and pictures, “Of course I don’t mind, Miss 93.”

“Yaaaay!” 99526 throws its forelegs in the air, “So…”

Author's Note

Next up:

"It is the 41st millennium..."

Day 6 - Worky time cancelled!: 7/8

It is the “we still haven’t decided when exactly, but it has to be a super long way away because 10013 said things are really awesome right now compared to what they used to be, and we’d like for it to stay like that or even get better for a long time to come, please” Big Number melon. For more than “it took too long to count that far on hooves, so just very long” the Queen has set immobile on her “super comfy couch that 65536 brought as a gift one freezy time. Wait, no. Ahem, again. On the throne deep inside the throne room of the Hive… doesn’t she stretch from time to time? She has to!” the Queen has set immobile, with the occasional walk to stretch her legs, and some warriors to give her a massage on her very comfy throne. She is the Queen of the Lings by the will of the gods- “wait, what’s this god thingy?”

*Whisper whisper whisper!*

She is the Queen of the Lings, because she’ll smack you if you disagree and no amount of wibbling will save you! She is the ruler of the thousands of hive tunnels and caverns, by the might of her inexhaustible armies of warriors and infiltrators “who occasionally do have to take a nap, but there’s so many of them that she doesn’t notice if they swap out smartly.”. She is very pretty with long mane and well-maintained carapace, all smooth and shiny. She is the Queen of the Imperium of Ling, who munches the love of thousands every day so that “umm, we kinda all eat love, so… that she can share and ration it because if everyone ate all they wanted there wouldn’t be enough and we’d go back to munching each other? That sounds about right.”

Yet even on her throne, the Queen continues her eternal vigilance. Mighty armies cross the depths of the Deep Dark, the only route between -Yes, the Hive is too big to run across on hoof, so this is wobbly stuff that plops you out where you need to be, but it’s dangerous and spooky! Don’t be scared, 99380, I made that up- between the edges of the Hive, their way lit by the Big Shiny, a manifestation of the Queen’s will. Numerous armies scuffle in her name in uncounted caverns and tunnels. The greatest of her Lings are her… “Miss 93? Umm, do warriors smack harder than infiltrators?”

“That would take too long to explain. How about you go with high ranks?”

“Eeeeeee, that’s so smart!”

The greatest of her Lings are the High Ranks, the best love-infused super-Lings. Their buddies are legion: the brave warriors, countless drones-

“I can count to many!”

“That means ‘too many to count’, not that they can’t count.”

“Oooooh!”

-the ever-vigilant infiltrators and the… the… “Hey, 99111, what did you call your guys?”

“The Mechanibugs! They like stuffing a lot and don’t believe in silly stuff like the Big Shiny. Oh oh oh! And they have extra legs made of metal sticks that-”

“Gotcha, but we’ll get to the details later.”

-and the Mechanibugs to name only a few. But for all their multit- mullets- megamlem- big numbers, they are barely enough to hold off the ever-present threat from surface-dwellers, traitors, gribblers, and worse.

To be a Ling in such times is to be one of Big Number. It is to live in “times so bad that it’s super important they’re imaginary because they’re even worse than before the New Rules.” under a Queen who kinda doesn’t care much about drones. These are the tales of those times. Forget hugs, noms, and shinies, for the nice stuff has been forgotten. Forget breaky time and cheer-up piles, for in the grim darkness of the far future, there is only Scuffle. There are no cuddles in the dark tunnels, only an eternity of smacking and biting, and the screaming of fighting hordes.

***

*Sniffle.*

“Uhh, you okay, 99380?” 10013 pokes the shaking drone sitting next to it who is hiding its muzzle with its legs.

“T-That’s so s-saaaad and spooky,” it mentally whispers back.

“It’s not real, buddy.”

“I know, but I’m gonna hug my little models anyway once we get to making them.”

“They’ll be in good hooves then, I suppose,” 10013 quietly chuckles before speaking out loud, “Great narration, everyone! Thank you for the script, Mister Shiny,” the drone points at the blackboard covered with writing containing the occasional smudged out text with [your ideas] written there instead.

“It was rather chaotic,” Shining Armor observes the drones spread all over the living room of the bungalow, “We can redo it if you want.”

“It’s fine. We got the idea, and 99380 committed it to memory, right?”

“Yup,” 99380 nods, “You guys should be able to check the hive mind and see it there.”

Several mental pings later, 10013 confirms it and Shining Armor wipes the blackboard with a sponge.

“All there. I think we can get to the factions, if 93 is okay with it,” it looks at the infiltrator sitting by the door with eyes closed who hasn’t said anything after being let in.

“Don’t mind me,” she replies, opening one eye, “If I have anything to say, I’ll let you know.”

“Okay,” a wave of relief reflexively washes over 10013, seeing that the high rank in the same room is comfortable. Some habits die hard, “Whose factions do we start with then?”

“I’ll go first and you can use me as an example,” says Shining, immediately earning a bunch of nods and glowing eyes locked on him, “The noble Equestri, an ancient surface race possessing magical abilities as well as technology beyond the understanding of others. However, a magical accident during dangerous research nearly wiped their entire race out, so their units are extremely powerful, but there can only be a few of them. Their melee combat unit will be the Crystal Charger, a highly mobile, tanky, and hard-hitting pony. Their ranged support will be the Crystal Destroyer, an extremely powerful and accurate sniper with little mobility. The third unit, just so that we don’t have to write down too much stuff, will be the Crystal Librarian, a unicorn magic user with several offensive spells we’ll think of later. Following me?” he looks around, with barely any reaction from the drones, “I guess I’ll guide you through the process when we get to it. My champion will be Gleaming Shield, a commander who gives other units powerful defensive buffs, and my special power will be Blessing of the Crystal He- Crystal, which heals all my units a bit. So, I’d like something like this from everyone who made up their own faction,” Shining finishes his piece, asking, “Anyone?”

“We already started with mine in the story bit so we can keep going,” 20100 shrugs, receiving an answer in the form of group nodding, “So, the Imperium of Ling is basically our good old hive, ruled by the Queen. We control the center of the underground which is the biggest part.”

“What’s your strategy, your main strength so to say?” asks Shining. After a moment of thought, 20100 replies:

“Our main strength is that there are a lot of us and, aside from the top ranks, we’re pretty easy to replace, so our combat strategy is to just throw wave and wave of lings at the enemy.”

“That sounds like a faction with a lot of cheap units and several expensive but powerful commanders,” Shining nods, scribbling a series of numbers on the blackboard that make no sense to the drones, “Don’t try to remember these yet. So, what would be your units?”

“Warriors, infiltrators, and drones,” replies 20100.

“Go figure,” Shining rolls his eyes, “First things first - which units are melee and which specialize in ranged combat.”

“I, uhh, dunno?” 20100 steadiness slowly crumbles. There’s only so much a drone can prepare for, “I think… I think both infiltrators and warriors can use both. We, drones, can’t do energy beams, though. We just smack or, if there’s no other option, dig. That’s where we really really want some baddie to go away and our hooves glow and remove chunks of them just like when we dig through rocks and stuff.”

“That’s okay. You can have units like, for example - an squishy infiltrator with a plasma dagger who does a lot of damage, a different infiltrator with a long-range laser beam. For warriors, you can have, let’s say, a big bulky one who can take a lot of hits in melee, or a standard mid-range one who would be a good mix of damage and durability, and so on,” Shining pauses for a second, “And for a drone… Battlemace has a good mechanic for that too - let’s say you’re small and squishy and don’t do much damage, but the damage you do automatically passes through armor. Let’s limit it to three units and a champion for now or the blackboard might not be big enough.”

“Hey, I like that!” 20100 cheers up immediately, “I don’t know some of the words, but I’ll take the infiltrator with energy beams, the big punchy warrior, and the diggy drones.”

“So, a well-rounded faction made of two heavily specialized units and some unique fodder- no, don’t wibble at me, it’s just a game!” Shining looks away immediately when the word fodder invokes a reaction he, in retrospect, should have expected, “And who would be your champion? A big unit with special abilities the strategic use of which can turn the tables.”

“It’s gotta be a top rank, but since I don’t know how to make the best unit yet, let’s say it’ll be rank 34,” 20100 pauses, looks around, lingers on 93, and decides for the safe approach, “An infiltrator who can… umm… bite enemy units and make them work for us? And shoots bigger lasers. But who also isn’t completely helpless in melee. Hmmm, I’m rolling everything into one… that’s not good, right?”

“A champion can do a lot of things well, or be extremely powerful in one particular area. I think your 34 is fine. We’ll tune the numbers and see where we land,” Shining stops writing, “Aaaand one final thing - a faction-wide special ability, something you can use to temporarily improve your situation, which would be very specific for your faction.”

20100 looks around, rubs its head, and shrugs.

“I gotta go with our hive links. They’re super useful for sharing information. Maybe they could help us figure out enemy weaknesses or something.”

“Excellent idea!” Shining smiles and writes it down, “Alright. One faction down, who has the next one?”

36658 raises its hoof.

“Drones.”

“We already have those, or do you mean a split off faction or something? If so, figure out a distinguishing name.”

“Hmm… Shiny cult? That sounds okay for now. No, that’s not related to you even though you’re having fun with us and your friend can feed us forever!” 36658 nods, “We’re part of the Imperium of Ling. We obey the Queen only because she’d eat us if we didn’t, but we believe there’s more to the Imperium than just orders, and that there’s something greater than the Queen which is the entirety of the Imperium together, by which I mean its lings,” 36658 glances 93’s way, but the infiltrator is just sitting there, listening, “We believe that the Big Shiny isn’t some part of the Queen, but something bigger to guide us. Aaand, because we believe for real, the Big Shiny gives us special powers.”

“I guess we’re getting to your units then,” Shining steers 36658’s monologue.

“Exactly!” the drone nods, “They’re all drones, so they can all dig. On top of that, there are the Believers who believe for real and protect others from the front lines. Their belief is so strong that the Big Shiny protects them so well that they can survive in melee. Then there are the Potatoes who are a step above that and can do all kinds of special tricks by asking the Big Shiny for help.”

“Spellcaster units, alright,” Shining nods, “We’ll figure out the spell list later.”

“My final unit are drones who are just like 20100’s… but maybe they look a bit different? Is it possible?”

“For sure. Battlemace has tons of shared units, especially when you consider custom factions. It also gives us a bit more free space on the blackboard.”

“Neat! As for my champaigne, that’ll be High Score, the chosen of the Big Shiny,” 36658 beams, “The best of all drones and the example of what drones can be! It’ll be strong and tough and… and… -ah hah- when a different unit is about to die, it’ll have a special ability that’ll let it save the unit and swap places with it.”

“Whoah, that’s a good design actually,” Shining writes it down, “And what about your faction power? Hive links too?”

“I guess so. We’re all drones and I didn’t think that far ahead,” 36658 rubs its head with a nervous chuckle.

“Well, if you think about something else, we can always change it. Who’s next?”

“Mememememe!” 99526 waves its leg in the air, smiling, “36658 had a really fun idea that I built on!”

“Sure, go for it,” Shining smiles at such enthusiasm for the game.

“So, my guys are super baddies who left the Imperium of Ling because they liked the exact opposite of things it stands for!” 99526 happily gets to it, “They aren’t comfortable with the Big Shiny, but with the Deep Dark instead. They don’t feed on love, but on fear and other nasty feelsies. That’s why they do really bad stuff to other factions, like spook them during breaky time or plunder the stashes of drones even before they’re dead-”

Other drones gasp or say “gasp” in horror, making Shining briefly ponder how much of a taboo the stash robbing is in the hive.

“And their drones don’t like digging and carrying, but filling holes and dropping stuff,” 99526 looks around at other drones who are eagerly listening and 93 whose mouth is twitching, which is the only sign that she’s listening, “And finally, they don’t have a Queen. Instead, whenever they need to unite against a big force like the Imperium, they do so under a mysterious king Elohgel.”

93 facehoofs. 99526 looks at her, ears drooping.

“Just trying to stop a sneeze,” 93 rubs her muzzle performatively, “Go on, name your units and special skills.”

“Oh, uhh. I was kinda thinking more about the story and not the game itself,” relieved 99526 rubs its chin, “They could be like 20100’s Imperium, but bad.”

“I mean, their drones can’t dig if they like filling up,” 20100 comments.

“Gasp! You’re right,” 99526’s eyes go wide, “Maybe my drones could be building cover for the other guys instead. It’s like dropping dirt instead of removing it.”

“That’s an excellent idea,” Shining nods, “You drones could be more of a tactical support than fodder. As for your other units, if you’re going with the opposing theme to other lings, can you even have warriors and infiltrators?”

“Umm, yup, I think I do. They’ll just be reversed. Infiltrators will be strong and punchy and warriors will be all shooty.”

“How about infiltrators being squishy but extremely powerful in melee and also difficult to hit, with warriors being mid-range generalists?” the idea comes accompanied by turning of all drone heads towards 93 who’s the one speaking up.

Shining Armor’s jaw drops while 99526’s eyes light up as it cheers:

“Yes yes yes yes! I want that!”

“I’m sorry, are you really interested in fiction settings and game design?” Shining can’t stop himself from asking that as his hobby is being acknowledged by… a mare.

93 smirks, opening one eye again.

“So far, the premise is amusingly ridiculous. Let’s see how interesting you can make the gameplay.”

“Where were you when I was sixteen?” mutters Shining, shaking his head and earning an amused snort from 93.

“Are you that surprised by my interest in this game?” she asks, “I hatched quite recently, even the veteran drones here are older than I am, and my exposure to pony world has been fairly limited, but from what little information I pulled out of the drones’ heads in regards to your demonstration of the tactics system on the beach I feel like anyone who likes strategy could enjoy this.”

“I’d rather not go into detail why, because I might slip into a rant about certain misgivings of pony culture,” Shining sighs, taking a brief trip through an extremely nerdy memory lane, “But yes, it is unusual.”

“I see,” 93 closes her eye again, her tone slightly disappointed.

“Ehh, I’m glad you’re interested, though,” Shining adds. When she doesn’t reply, he looks at the surrounding drones again, “So… anyone else?”

“Wait wait wait!” 99526 waves its leg again, “Can I still have a special talent and a chimpanzee? I mean, my faction.”

“Oh, right! Sure. Got anything in mind?”

“Well, for the talent - I don’t think I can have the hive links, because I’m the opposite of the Imperium and my guys aren’t even working together, so it’s gotta be something different. Miss 93, any ideas? Uhh, anyone?”

“It’s your faction and your story,” 93 shrugs, and the others give a similar answer.

“I GOT IT!” 99526 lets out a surprisingly believable evil laugh, “Maybe my special talent and my champoo are the same thing! What if… my guys…” it pauses yet again for dramatic effect, “CAN SUMMON THE BIG BAD STAR PONY! THE WORST EVIL EVEEERRRRRR! MWA HA HA HAAAA!” it carefully looks at 36658, ears drooping a little, “Is that okay?”

“Go for it,” replies 36658 in a strange tone no one can identify, and nods before adding with a fire in its voice, “Just don’t be surprised when I crush your traitors in every engagement, see you driven before High Score, and hear the lamentation of your mares!”

“Spooky!” 99526 perks up, seeing that 36658 is taking its idea in stride, “Okay, I’m done. Who wants to go next?”

“I’ll go, if no one minds,” says 10013, waiting for anyone to speak up. When no one does, it continues, “I think I’ve got the basics figured out. So, my faction is pretty simple. It’s just the underground Gribblers, and all they want is to eat everything. I don’t get a champion, but I’d like to have more types of units to choose from instead. Is that okay?” it looks at Shining questioningly.

“Let’s trade blackboard space that would be taken by a champion for one other standard unit.”

“Goodie!” 10013 grins, “My speciality then is being adaptable, and having a variety of units to choose from is critical. So, let’s start with rumblers.”

“Oh no…” the other two veteran drones exchange looks of horror, and shudder.

“I’m going to need an explanation here,” says Shining.

“Rumblers are the worst thing ever,” 10013 lowers its voice, “All you can hear is, well, rumbling in the ground, and then the whole tunnel moves and crumbles. It’s like a huge, moving wall which eats its way through the ground. Thankfully, it’s not great at eating through rocks, so when you’re in deeper tunnels you usually have enough time to escape. They’re a big reason why we have to keep re-digging tunnels all the time.”

“I guess I’ll have to wait for a model because I’m still lost,” Shining writes ‘a Rumbler’ on the blackboard.

“It’s a massive underground worm that's extremely heavily armored. We don’t mess with those unless it’s critical to save a vein of valuable minerals or something else. It’s usually a huge investment of ranked changelings and love,” explains 93, “Good choice of a front-liner, 10013.”

“Thank you,” 10013 smiles, “Okay, next would be thorny spitters. They’re these crawling, four-legged gribblers that spit acid that can eat through your carapace when you get close. If you have a big enough pool of water around and you’re not alone you can usually survive with only needing to rest a sleepy time or two.”

“Low-range acid spitters. Simple enough,” Shining notes it down.

“Leggy spinners,” 10013 continues, which is followed by a series of groans and shudders from other drones, “Yup, the classic ones. They’re kind of a… a spider, I think, is what Miss Cadance would call them. These are a bit bigger than us, have long legs, quickly rush towards you in groups, and drag you off. They’re very fast, so if you’re caught alone it’s pretty much over. High ranks can blast them well enough, which is why we have warriors stationed around these days.”

“A melee charger unit that’s not particularly tough but good at flanking,” Shining Armor shakes his head with a smile, “You’re better at building a balanced squad than some of my new recruits.”

“Thank you. It’s good that we can make Scufflestick educational for new drones too,” 10013 beams, “As for my final unit, I think it’ll be a crawling cruncher. That’s a flat-ish noodle about your length, Mister Shiny, and our height, that can crawl all over walls and ceilings, and it’s only a bit slower than we are. It’s covered in tough carapace, has maaaaaaaany legs, and also two biters in the front part. It bites down very quickly too, and it can easily pierce drone chitin.”

“A tanky melee. You know what? I have an idea. What if your Rumblers were less of a unit and more of a trap, a special effect that you prepare beforehoof and then it causes massive damage if the enemy can’t avoid it. It could be good for area denial,” offers Shining.

“That might be a bit too complicated, but sure. If you show me how it can work,” 10013 shrugs, “And finally, my special power would be about adaptability too. Could I, maybe, somewhere later into the fight, pick a unit to use and add to my group?”

“Sure,” Shining nods, “Battlemace does have reinforcement rules, but we’ll have to be careful with those, because they can be terribly unfair. We’ll figure it out.”

“Great! Then I think I’m done,” 10013 pauses to think for a moment, “My faction is kinda low on story because, well, they just live in the tunnels and eat stuff. Most don’t even live around each other… nor do they cooperate. Wait, I’m starting to think I might have goofed up,” it giggles nervously.

“That’s fine. It’s bound to work for the game, and lore can always be ret- changed,” Shining waves it off, “Anyone else? I think you were eager to share your idea with us,” he points at 99111, “Whatever number you are.”

“99111,” the drone stands up, “So, my guys are the Mechanibugs. They don’t believe in silly superstatues like Big Shiny or Deep Dark. They are big on stuffing and can build things like the Angry Shiny from sticks and various kinds of goop,” 99111 pauses, “Miss 93, do you have any idea how an Angry Shiny is made?”

“When two Angry Shinies love each other very much-” 93 pauses, realizing how pointless saying that in front of drones is, and checks the hive mind for information first on what Angry Shiny might be, and then for the scarce knowledge of how a flamethrower works, “Nevermind. You need way more than sticks and goop. Various metals are a big component, and other materials we don’t have in the hive.”

99111’s ears droop.

“Mister Shiny, does it mean that I can’t play a faction based on stuffing when I don’t know how to stuff the weapons and thingies they are using?”

Suffering a mild aneurysm from attempting to understand what 99111 is saying, Shining eventually responds:

“Oh? Ohhh! No no no, you can definitely play a faction that uses technology that’s partly or entirely fictional. In Battlemace, that’s sort of the point even.”

“Yessss!” 99111 punches the air, “So my guys are lings and work with the Emp- Imperium, but they’re trying to learn as much about stuffing as they can, and they don’t have to obey the Queen if it contradicts that. And the Queen can’t make them, because they have all the stuff- we need to make a distinct name, this is getting confusing.”

“High tech weapons?” Shining raises an eyebrow.

“That!” 99111, visibly excited, resumes talking, “They have tech stuff and if the Queen made them mad then she would…” it looks at 93, “Well, she would squish them but it would cost her too many lings and high ranks. And to be safe, my Mechanibugs can sometimes make tech for the Queen and the Imperium to use,” it pauses to take a breath, “How’s that?”

“Definitely interesting, especially since you thought of diplomacy and relationships between factions,” Shining writes something down again, “So, units, a champion, and a special power.”

“Angry Shiny warrior! Big Beam Infiltrator with a talky box for communication instead of the hive links so that they don’t use up love! A warrior with a bunch of metal legs on its back to smack gribblers that are crawling from above-” 99111 begins shooting out idea after idea.

93 smirks to herself, listening and thinking to herself:

Which side will I join?

Hours pass, the blackboard fills over and over, and the drones are busy examining the ideas for the unit models now stored in the drone part of the hive mind.

They may or may not have gotten a bit carried away.

“Are we the baddies?” asks 20100, cutting a discussion about the visuals of its faction’s front line suicide berserker painted with blood of enemies chopped in the name of the Queen.

“Yes,” Shining Armor resolutely nods.

*Wibble?!*

“Everyone in Battlemace is!” Shining recoils at the power of pure kicked puppiness hits him in full force, “And your Scufflestick should be the same, because it’s bad guys fighting bad guys. Everyone is just bad in a different way.”

“So… we’re all baddies and goodies at the same time?” 20100 tilts its head, attempting to crunch the information.

“Exactly!” Shining nods, “That’s why you don’t feel bad for either side… much.”

“I WANT MORE CULTIST GOOP ON MY SAW BLADE MECHANIBUG!” yells 99111 with a horrifying mix of innocence and bloodlust.

“THE BLESSING OF HIGH SCORE WILL MAKE IT MELT YOUR SILLY TECHNOLOGY!” retorts 36658, and 99380 only sighs in mental exhaustion as more and more change requests to the models it’s saving in the hive mind come.

***

“I’m baaack, Shiny! We took a bit longer than-” Cadance freezes when she sees the dim interior of the bungalow, various household items scattered over the floor in an attempt to presumably create a makeshift arena and unit markers, “You’re still not done…”

“Oh hi, Cadance!” Shining rubs his eyes as the light from the open door blinds him, “You’re back early.”

“Don’t ‘early’ me, Shiny!” she frowns, “Miss 93, I need you, as the only pony connected to reality in this game room, to end this party right now.”

“Do we have five more minutes? We can finish-” 93 stops when Cadance’s eyes bulge, she begins trotting around the room and opening the curtains.

“YOUT TOO?! I GUESS I’M TRADING MY HUSBAND FOR ONE OF MY GUARDS THEN!” she huffs, “Glintstone, to the window!”

As the crystal pony stands in the freshly let in sunlight, the drones’ eyes light up from all the rainbow colors and quickly lock on the Crystal Guard. 93 and Shining Armor exchange glances and the infiltrator stands up.

“So, no finishing the murderspider version seven?” she chuckles.

“I’ll send Glintstone out to lead the drones away and jump into the ocean,” threatens Cadance.

“You will pay for such hostilities towards the hive!” laughs 93, shaking her hoof menacingly before looking around and asking, “Do you need help cleaning up?”

“No, it’s fine,” Shining shakes his head, “I’ll be putting away Caddy’s things anyway.”

“As you wish,” 93 bows, “Thank you, Emperor, Empress, for your time and company. Drones, we’re leav-” she rolls her eyes, “Mister Glintstone, can you move away from the window, please?”

The rainbows stop, 10013 blinks, looks around, and says as if nothing happened:

“Alright, let’s follow 93. Thank you, Mister Shiny and Miss Cadance!” it smiles at both.

As they’re leaving, Cadance’s horn flashes, letting out a burst of love giving everyone a little refill which is met with more thanks and goodbyes.

Author's Note

I may have gotten a bit carried away. None of this has any bearing on plot... characters... or anything. At some point it was supposed to.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
What am I doing with this meandering?
This happens when you're goop at planning... or sticking to a plan more like.
I think I'm gonna upload the final chapter of day 6 early and then take a longer break to rethink some things, or to shove my head into the oven. Don't worry, it's electric.

Day 6 - Worky time cancelled!: 8/8

It takes 93 a moment to grow a secondary reflective membrane to shield her eyes from the sunlight, after having spent such a long time in a dark room, as she’s strolling along the pier, followed by the group of drones that’s missing only Smiley.

“Whoah, that took a lot more time than I expected,” she shakes her head and, as if she’d completely forgotten the drones until now, turns around to face them, “65536, you’re still here?”

The guard drone shrugs.

“I had a lot of fun, I told Miss Gem and Mister Blueblood where to find me if they needed anything, and they clearly didn’t, so why not? Any ideas on what to do next?”

“First things first, I think you all deserve a point for improving our relations with the Crystal Empire-”

[10013:1, 20100:5, 36658:4, 99111:3, 99380:6, 99526:3, Smiley: 6,

65536:2]

“-and as for what to do next…” 93 pauses, checking the hive mind, “The resort schedule offers several activities,” suddenly, she smirks in an unsettlingly sadistic fashion which gives all veteran drones flashbacks to the old days, “and I think I’ve figured out exactly which one to go for. We’ve spent all this time indoors, so it’s time for a change of scenery. Let’s go for a sea diving expedition!”

“Is that, umm, like swimming?” 10013 gulps.

“Ohhhhh yes,” 93 grins.

***

A small section of railing of the resort boat is beset by drones nervously staring down into the blue, gradually darkening depths. 93 is attempting to figure out how to put a diving suit on 10013 doing its best to avoid shaking. Gem is there, the tight bodysuit earning her eager stares from other attendees, working with the only willing and even excited drone which is expectedly 65536.

“-and once we jump down I’m gonna catch all the shinies!”

“Those are just reflections, 65536,” explains Gem calmly.

“I know, but they still wiggle and dance around on the water, and it’s so good that they’re not fake bitey shinies like back in the hive- or are they?” 65536 finally stops staring into the water and looks up at Gem.

“No anglerfish or anything similar,” the zebra shakes her head and raises her voice a little so that even the hive drones hear, “Besides, we’ll be protected both by this,” she tugs on her bodysuit, “as well as magic. Plus, as far as I heard, the large-scale protection spells of the resort reach even here and all the way to the sea floor. We’re not too far and we won’t be swimming too deep,” she nods towards the shoreline within comfortable swimming distance, “There will be other harmless fish, though.”

“Okay!” 65536 nods and Gem trots off towards the griffon tour guide giving out pairs of flippers to fit over hind legs.

It takes another fifteen minutes to get the hive drones suited up, and the twenty present guests are queued up with the guide standing by the gap in the railings.

“The magical goggles will cast a self-refreshing air bubble around your head as soon as you go underwater. For our pony guests, it’ll take some adjusting to only have flippers on your hind legs, but I don’t doubt you’ll want to touch the ancient temple, because I know how rare an opportunity like that is when most museums keep you as far away as possible.”

“No digging!” 93 mentally warns all drones, receiving a nervous chorus of agreements.

“I think we’re ready, the water is warm, and the sun is still high up. Let’s go in, one by one,” she pats the first guest on the back, and they jump into the water in response. A moment later, their head is bobbing on the water, floating a bit further away to avoid blocking the way for anyone else.

65536 pushes itself ahead of 10013 who is the first drone but is still visibly fighting anxiety, and boops its nose with its own.

“Watch me,” 65536 jumps, “Wheeeeee-blblbl!”

*Splat!*

65536 surfaces immediately, spitting water with a smile.

“Come on! The water really is warm and- there’s a shiny! And another! IMMA CATCH YA!” it starts flapping forward towards the nearest bright reflection.

10013 takes a deep breath, and jumps.

A moment of panic takes over as water is suddenly everywhere, but when it breathes in it realizes that it can breathe in, and confusion wins over fear. Breathing but sinking like a rock, 10013 waves its hind legs and quickly surfaces.

“It’s fine! Just breathe!” it calls out and waves at the others.

99380 is last, with only 93 behind it. When it hesitates, the infiltrator unceremoniously shoves it and jumps in a different direction so as not to land on it. The drone’s head peeks out shortly after, nose scrunched in an exceedingly grumpy manner. 93 only boops it and turns away towards the tour guide.

The griffoness waves at the group and dives down.

Once they descend a short distance through near-crystal clear water, a small backpack the guide is wearing lights up like a beacon. Several smaller lights coming out of horns or personal devices light the slowly darkening water, the most noticeable being the green glow of 93’s horn due to the color, and a small, directional lantern around Gem’s neck casting a brighter beam than the guide’s beacon.

Itchy itchy itchy!

65536 who is, unlike other grouped up drones still testing their flippers, quickly swimming around and enjoying its newfound ability to move in any direction it wants with barely any resistance, rubs its mildly stinging legs. When it doesn’t help, it bends its body to examine what could be the cause.

Ohhhhh…! The carapace changes Mister Shiny designed make us much less waterproof. Eeeee, I wish I could scratch all of myself from the inside.

“Hey, guys, is anyone itchy too?” it mentally asks the others, which is followed by a chorus of agreement, “I think Mister Shiny’s armor design has a tiny flaw.”

“Yup, a bit.”

“Nothing major.”

“It’s fine,” 10013 shrugs, “We can move so much better now, and we don’t have this weird itchy water at home. We gotta test them out with normal water, though, when we get back to the resort.”

“We could try the heat tubes,” says 99380, “I saw those on the list, and when I tried them on the ship, they were super nice. Maybe 1313 and the stripey ladies will be there again.”

“Not a bad idea.”

The descent continues, and the drones huddle up as darkness falls over them and even their eyes used to the darkness of the tunnels can only see within the sphere of light of the guide’s beacon.

And the sphere is starting to get… lively.

“Feel free to swim around,” the guide’s magically transmitted voice rings within bubbles of air from the group’s enchanted goggles, “We still have some distance to swim before we reach the ruins, and it would be a shame to miss the chance to look at all the fish and jellyfish up close,” as an example, she swims up to a leisurely floating school of silvery fish which blast off as soon as she pokes one.

“Eeee, harmless floaties!” 65536 immediately swims off towards a different group of bright blue fish swimming past and attempts to follow them when they flee before quickly realizing they’re so much faster than it is.

Several moments later, the lit up area is filled with swimming guests and gradually more and more freaked out fish.

Gathering courage, and potentially inspiration for a new Scufflestick Gribbler unit, 10013 swims over to a little less active creature looking like a glowing white cloud with tentacles. After an experimental poke, the creature only wiggles its tentacles towards the drone. Encouraged, 10013 circles around it and begins pushing it towards the others.

“10013, what are you doing?” asks 93, the magic transmitting her words to the nearby goggle wearers.

“I found a friend! It’s all jiggly and wiggly. Look!” it swims under the probably quite confused jellyfish and sticks its foreleg out, which gets immediately engulfed by its tendrils harmlessly sliding along 10013’s carapace.

“Are you sure it’s not trying to eat you? It looks like it’s trying to eat you,” 99380 asks skeptically while inching closer.

“Nu uh,” 10013 shakes its head, pulling its foreleg out to show 99380, “Leg’s all fine.”

“Can I borrow it?” 99380 pokes the jiggly mass.

“Sure, just be nice to it!” 10013 lets the jellyfish go, “I’ll go grab another,” it floats off.

***

“And there it is-” the guide calls out once she turns around and immediately gasps when she sees a bunch of floating balls attached to a drone each, “What are you doing with the jellyfish?”

“They’re great at hugging!” calls out 10013.

“Let them go, please,” she says, “We’re approaching the temple and they might get hurt if you swim past a sharp edge or something else.”

”Okay!” 10013 nods, “Guys, you heard the nice lady,” it untangles the jellyfish’s tentacles from its midsection and gently squeezes its bloated ‘head’ with its forelegs, “No one can ever say a drone doesn’t return its hugs.”

The jellyfish, of course, doesn’t answer, and begins slowly floating upwards like all the others.

“I wish we could take one home to show the guys,” 20100 turns towards 93 who is relaxing in the water nearby.

“They dry out and die outside the ocean,” comes an answer from Gem passing by.

“Idon’twishtotakeonehomeanymore!” 20100 gasps, “We must never harm other huggers!”

“You guys are bound to love the octopuses that live on the ocean floor,” Gem chuckles, “Try to find one. They’re usually hidden by the sand.”

Within a few tempos, she joins the guide who resumes swimming down before stopping one final time, taking her beacon backpack off, and fiddling with it.

“Uhh, don’t we need that?” 10013 asks 65536, the both of which have been leading the drone group during the descent with the occasional exception of stopping to mess around with the wildlife. 65536 shrugs.

The guide explains what she’s doing shortly after:

“I’m just marking a set spot that the boat will be able to find. Aaaand, go-” a thin, bright blue beam shoots upward from the beacon, reaching far further than anyone can see, “This way we’ll just swim up and when we surface they’ll be there to pick us right up. Now,” she grabs a large and powerful flashlight, “follow me and witness the mystery of an ancient civilization we still know nothing about.”

The massive structure the guide leads them to is a dome easily the radius of the apartment complex hosting the delegation retinues, and partially built into the side of a cliff. The visible bottom is a semi-circle made of a solid, silvery-white material which, like everything else, is now covered in green, squishy stuff the drones can’t identify. This circular wall is roughly ten pony lengths high, and above that there’s a shattered dome of thick glass, which likely used to be clear before unknown years of disrepair left it in its now dim, barely see-through shape.

“Historically, there is very little to say about this place because, as I said, we don’t know much,” the guide leads the group through the collapsed dome, “We assume, however, the civilization that built this predates the Redtalon bloodline and the first unification of the Griffon Empire. Despite that, this reinforced glass dome has clearly been made to withstand the water pressure, and the building process of the supporting wall hasn’t been replicated yet, and neither has been the material. The main difficulty lies in our inability to set up a scientific station here,” she laughs, “In short, we, with our current scientific knowledge, can’t build a temporary base here, while the unknown civilization built this. Feel free to swim around and explore if you want. The communication magic of the goggles will let you hear me anywhere within the dome.”

Several guests swim off, but the drones stay with the guide showing the group the more interesting spots, with the exception of 99111 who remains floating by the remarkably undamaged, smooth wall.

Its drone instinct is confused, because just a single touch reveals that the wall material is something it’s never felt before.

“10013, can you come over here, please?” it calls out, and the drone leader splits from the main group.

“What’s up?” asks 10013 quietly.

“Can you tell what this wall is made from?”

10013 pokes it, rubs its hoof against it, and finally, with extreme care, digs, shaving off the thinnest layer of the material it can.

“Whoah!” it looks at its hoof, “It’s not as tough as black-hard, but it’s definitely the second hardest thing I’ve ever dug.”

“Thanks, I was just curious.”

“No problem,” 10013 swims off to rejoin the group.

A small flash of light from its peripheral vision makes 99111 even more curious, and it floats along the wall covered in periodically repeating, thin markings looking like a series of symbols in the center of a large rectangle.

As it turns out, 99111 isn’t the only one interested in the wall. Despite there being the unidentified green layer over everything, Gem has managed to uncover a section blending with the cliffside which looks like a slightly deeper indentation. Next to it, about halfway up, sits a smaller square which the zebra is examining.

She does something with the lantern around her neck, a bright but localized flash of white light comes out of it…

…and nothing else happens.

“Shoot…” hears 99111 through the magical goggles before Gem looks around and spots it, “Oh, hello, 99111.”

The drone wastes no time pondering how she can see it, much less identify it in this underwater darkness when they haven’t even really met, and waves at her.

“Hello, Miss Gem. This is a pretty weird wall, isn’t it?”

“I’m not sure it is just a wall,” she muses, pulling a strange, metallic tube out of her saddlebag, “Perhaps I just need more? Let’s see,” she mutters, pushing the end of the tube which makes some kind of a paste come out of the narrowed front. She quickly smears it over the narrow crack in the wall, “Shield your eyes, 99111,” as the drone does so, a bright white flash visible through its eyelids comes and goes, after which Gem says, “Damn,” 99111 looks just in time to see her rub her foreleg where the paste was moments ago, “Not even warm.”

“Can I… help you? Shoot, the Queen said to not ask anypony today,” the drone clamps its forelegs over its mouth.

“I’m not sure how,” Gem sighs, “I’m not even sure what I’m looking at. I just think this is kind of a panel, not the wall itself, and there’s something behind it.”

“I could dig through it, but I’m not allowed to. 93 said so,” 99111 frowns, “Plus, the griffon lady did just say this is-”

“A national heritage protected by the Griffon-Pony contact treaty, addendum 33-B,” Gem interrupts it, referring to the non-stop stream of trivia and chatter coming from the guide through her goggles, “Yeah, I know. But you’re saying you could get through this?” she taps the potential panel.

“For sure, any drone could. Digging is what we’re for!” 99111 nods vigorously, “But the Queen and 387 said they’d do a lot of mean things to us and others back home if we break stuff.”

“Don’t worry,” Gem smiles, puts her things into her saddlebag, and pats 99111’s head, the mere touch revitalizing it, “Let’s head back to the others.”

***

*Yaaaawn!*

The first squeaky drone yawn comes from 99380 and elicits many more following ones. 93, leading the group along the promenade that’s full of creatures at this time of evening, checks their love levels and finds no particular deficiencies.

“Are you okay? Hungry or anything?” she asks.

“Nu uh,” 99380, blinking blearily, shakes its head, “Jus… tir’d.”

“99380 has been doing a lot of hive mind manipulation todaaaaa-” explains 10013, breaking into a yawn as well, “Nevermind. I guess it’s just been a very busy day full of new things. Can’t out-love everything,” it chuckles, “Who wants to go back to our room?”

Following nods and grunting make 93 smile and say:

“Alright. I’ve been wanting to check out the promenade in peak hours, so if you need anything I should be within reach.”

“Thank you, 93,” 10013 smiles back, and the drone group splits off, heading up the central road.

Roughly halfway there, 10013 whispers something into 20100’s ear.

“Do we gotta?” quietly replies the other drone, “Don’t get me wrong, it’s a great idea, but do we gotta?”

“I mean, we don’t, but you know how late they open.”

“I guess,” 20100 nods before raising its voice, “Guys, 10013 and I will be back later. We have a surprise for you for tomorrow.”

“...”

“The good kind, not the old high rank kind,” 10013 adds.

“Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaay-yawn!”

Author's Note

As I promised, here's an early chapter finishing the day off.
Now I need to take a break and re-focus because, while this is roughly halfway through day-wise, we're getting ot the final third, and I've kind of messed up in favor of just screwing around.
And yeah, regarding those guns and dwarves, and the cover art...

Day 7 - Drones? What drones?: 1/7

Rays of morning sun entirely fail to penetrate the windows of the water bungalow belonging to the changeling delegation thanks to a secondary membrane of green goop hidden behind the bead curtains. Inside, 387 is sleeping unexpectedly peacefully, mainly due to a little help from Chrysalis' mental skills, as limited as her control over the ancient warrior is.

Well, was sleeping until a few moments ago.

The Queen herself, however, is taking a steaming hot shower in the next room, not caring in the slightest about how the piping can even work here. 93 is standing next to her, currently busy with shampooing the Queen’s mane. Some things are a luxury hard to come by in the hive, and she fully intends to enjoy them as much as she can.

“Tell me, 93-”

“You do realize that 387 is listening to us, right?”

“I can’t sense anything other than his presence nearby, Your Majesty. I can’t even tell if he’s awake.”

“Heh. It does take some practice. Anyway, I’m just telling you because I want him to taste his own medicine. Report as always, but do try to sound as suspicious as possible, will you?”

“I don’t understand, Your Majesty.”

“Hmph… just do it.”

“-how is your primary secret mission doing?” Chrysalis lowers her voice only so much for it to be recognizable but still not too difficult to hear over the running water.

“It- uhh- it’s going slowly but well, Your Majesty. I’m still having trouble inserting myself into the required situations, but I… um… infiltrated the vicinity of Emperor Shining Armor yesterday and we had fun- we got to know each other on a rather intimate level.”

“Wait, really? Don’t tell me I actually did teach him something useful before the inv-”

“NOT LIKE THAT, YOUR MAJESTY!”

“What do you mean?”

“I confirmed my suspicion that what I invest myself into the easiest are events requiring tactical decisions. I believe your objectives regarding Shining Armor allow me to develop in ways I haven’t considered before.”

“Okay, now you’ve confused even me. What’s that about?”

“I enjoy tactical games, and so does Shining Armor. It’s clear that his wife accepts that side of him but can’t become a part of his hobby.”

“Ohhh, well done. Keep at it, but- wait, we’ve been quiet for a bit too long.”

“Continue pursuing that objective, but don’t forget about the others,” Chrysalis raises her voice a little as 93 begins rinsing her off with a stronger stream of water, “We need to spread our webs as far and wide as possible, to know where to pull in which situation.”

“And I don’t want a changeling whose main skill would be sitting in a cellar and huffing paint.”

“Understood, Your Majesty.”

“However, there’s one aspect in which you have disappointed me very much.”

“Y-Your Majesty?” 93 jolts. This… this doesn’t sound like a part of the game.

“Your critical mission regarding 65536.”

“So far, you have failed to develop a physical affinity, 93. Listen to me very carefully now,” Chrysalis hisses and lowers her voice this time for real, “You are an experiment, the only stable one I managed to create before we lost access to the, ugh, crusher. I don’t know what it would cause if I told the drones and 387, or sent them to re-establish the tunnels and the cavern system. Right now, the hive is running smoothly, but we won’t survive if we suffer an internal split. My rule needs to be based on success and improvements, but I must retain the underlying threat, and the crusher’s reputation does way more than its original function.”

“I’m lost, Your Majesty. I apologize,” 93 breathes out.

“Then you’ve failed to grasp the deeper structure of the hive,” Chrysalis frowns, not bothering to hive what she’s saying anymore, “And I think you might benefit from tough love a little more, 99.”

“Your Majesty?”

“That is a demotion, 99. Of course, that doesn’t mean I will feed you less, nor does it change our relationship, but smart changelings might look at drones and put two and two together.”

“Oh…” 99’s breathing quickens.

“My advice on how to shore up your position is to start working on the 65536 angle.”

“But what do you want me to DO?”

“You will figure it out if you observe the target, understand it, and analyze our conversation. I’ve given you enough clues. Oh, and try to keep your calm when the drone bends your legs behind your back.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,”

“Good. Now let’s swap and I’ll wash your-”

*Knock knock knock!*

“Motherfu-” 387, listening with his ear pressed against the bathroom door, hisses and stumbles backwards when the knocking on the door a leg’s length away from him resonates through the bungalow, “Coming!” he calls out, thankfully now having the excuse of being out of bed despite pretending to be asleep when Chrysalis and now demoted 99 went to take a shower.

Heh. Old Bugbutt needing help washing her back, my ass.

With a smirk, he opens the door which reveals a griffon wearing an armband identifying them as the member of resort staff, carrying a small notepad. The griffon gives 387 a quick bow before saying:

“Good morning, Your Excellency! As per our resort policy, I’m here to inform you about an unusual expense by your staff.”

“Staff-?” 387 furrows his brows, “The drones? How much?”

“24857 bits for room service from earlier this morning.”

“Hive almighty, be a bit quieter or-” 387 wheezes, but before he can say anything else, his worst nightmare comes alive.

“HOW FUCKING MUCH?!” screams Chrysalis, the bathroom door simply disintegrating in front of her as she stomps forward, horn flaring with green light and steam rising from her entire body.

“-ahhh, shit…” 387 facehoofs.

“I’m not paying that!” she grabs the pad from the stunned griffon’s talons, “Tell a drone to grow extra holes to work it off or somet-”

“Your Majesty, it’s been paid already. This is just a recapitulation based on our security and information policy, not an invoice,” the now trembling griffon takes a step back.

“What?” 387 bluescreens.

“What?” Chrysalis stops in her tracks.

“Your staff… paid in cash. Uhh, and casino tokens,” the griffon laughs nervously, “I guess someone just got lucky last evening, perhaps?”

387 takes this as an opportunity to remove the Chrysalis variable from the equation for this situation.

“Your Majesty, I’ll go check it out.”

“Do so,” Chrysalis turns around, “Thank you for the immediate report, griffon. You may leave.”

***

“Twenty-five grand…” mutters 387 to himself as he’s walking through the apartment complex for servants, “How did they both manage to earn and spend that much?”

His analytical instinct kicks in as he realizes that he can, with the exception of Smiley, sense all the hive drones in the same place this late in the day. Considering their usual tendency to run around the entire day, this is downright unique and possibly worrying.

As he reaches their suite he pushes the handle without knocking and the door opens, revealing the incredible mess that is the living room of the suite. Several food trolleys filled to the brim with everything from salads to smoked meat are standing by the walls, an entire freezer containing various ice creams is humming by the door, and every elevated surface is covered by bottles of liquor, ranging from the cheapest paint stripper to…

…to several crystal clear explanations of the bill.

Some of that stuff is older than the other guests in this place.

“Hi, 387!” 10013 stands up from whatever it was doing on the floor, and waves at the warrior. Other drones absent-mindedly greet him as well, with the exception of 99526 sitting in the back next to several small buckets, currently busy throwing up into one.

“-urrrgh!” it examines the contents of the bucket before looking up, all while breathing heavily but with a surprisingly accomplished, happy smile, “Hiii!”

Controlling his desire to yell at the busy drones regarding how they managed to spend that much money, 387 simply asks:

“What are you all doing?”

“We’re making Scufflestick tinies!” 20100 beams, taking a small, freshly finished figurine into its forelegs and raising it up for 387 to see, “Mister Shiny said they were called minis in the original pony game, but we drones are smaller so we’re calling them tinies.”

387 takes the figurine and examines it.

“Is that a changeling warrior with…” he spins it around one more time, “You didn’t put much thought into how this would move in reality, did you?”

“Ummm, too many spikes?” asks the drone sheepishly.

“One wrong step and you have a quadruple amputee on your now shredded hooves,” 387 winces as he turns the figurine upside down, “Anatomically correct, I see. That makes the spikes and blades all over him even worse.”

“Hmmm, I guess I can just put more spikes on the outside,” admits 20100, “Oh well, got any more of the whiskey-chocolate ice cream-strawberry mix, 99526?”

“Gimme a sec!” replies the drone, and 387 watches it with growing fascination and horror as it swallows a tiny bit of each ingredient before finding a presumably specific container and throwing up amber-colored, red-tinted goop into it, “There ya go!”

“Nice!” 20100 digs out a few spoonfuls of the goop, plops it onto a plate, and starts making a fresh changeling figurine using the original over-spiked one as a template.

“Sooo…” 387 furrows his brows, waving his hoof around, “You ordered all this to have 99526 make more resin so that you could craft these small models?”

“Mhm,” 10013 nods, “We wanted to test a whole bunch of things so that we got different colors and effects for them, so 20100 and I went to the casino and got us some shinies to pay for all the stuff we’d excrement with.”

“Experiment, please.”

“What did I say?”

“Nevermind,” 387 shakes his head, “I guess… I guess I’ll just go and tell the Queen that everything is okay.”

From his slow and weird tone of voice, 10013 reads that something isn’t as clear as it was expecting by doing all this.

“Did we do something wrong?” it asks, “We spe-ci-fi-cal-ly picked the old and stale drinks from the list so that the new and fresh ones would be left for the guests who wanted them. We tried to do the same with the salads or ice cream, but apparently those only come in the fresh variety.”

387 sighs.

They just went to the casino to get some money and they did. I’m not about to tempt fate itself by telling them off.

“No, no…” he pauses, “Here’s a point for you and 20100 for… paying for all that. Somehow.”

[10013:2, 20100:6, 36658:4, 99111:3, 99380:6, 99526:3, Smiley: 6,

65536:2]

“Yaaay!” 20100 momentarily leaves its miniature to hoofbump 10013.

“Ya want any of this?” offers 10013 with a look around, “99526 might be even better at making goop than we thought, so we haven’t used up nearly as much as we expected. Just not these, umm, please,” it points to an assortment of vegetable and fruit juice boxes, “They’re great for coloring.”

You little idiots are a headache, but also what’s making everything I do worth it. Sometimes.

387 walks around, careful not to step on any figurine or ‘raw material’, and eventually picks up a square, glass bottle of amber liquid with its neck shaped like a griffon holding a flag.

“Mind if I take this?”

“The oldest one?” 10013 nods, “Sure, we haven’t figured out how to open it anyway and we didn’t want to ruin the bottle by breaking it. There’s a bunch of fresher stuff-”

“No, this is fine,” 387 shakes his head, his eyes stopping on 99380 blowing on a miniature to harden it, “By the way, why don’t you crack open the balcony door and put the models you want to dry out there?”

“Gasp!” 99111 perks up, “That’s a much better idea than making a fire in the metal filing cabinet.”

387 fights off a sudden impending heart attack before barking out-

“NO FIRES IN THE SUITE!”

-and storming off with a bottle still stuck in his leg hole.

Author's Note

Well, my entire break idea went out of the window, so let's just keep going until I run out of buffer.

Day 7 - Drones? What drones?: 2/7

“They paid for it… by winning in a casino,” Chrysalis glares at 387.

“Exactly,” the warrior nods.

“They won a fortune and instead of giving it to their Queen they used it to buy-”

“Let me stop you right there, Chrysalis, before your ego makes you say something stupid,” 387’s voice turns serious, “They have no concept of money. They didn’t try to hide their winnings from you because they had zero idea about the value of what they got. Do you know how trading things work in the tunnels?”

“Obviously not. Don’t ask stupid questions,” Chrysalis frowns, but at this point in her and the warrior’s tentatively cooperative relationship she knows that there are certain topics on which 387 won’t be trying to screw with her.

“They can trade an emerald for a stick, because a drone who found the emerald had it for too long and wants to share it with others while trying out something new,” explains the warrior, “Value is entirely relative to them. They figured out that to make their silly little figurines they needed various ways to enhance their resin. Because it wasn’t an issue regarding the hive as such, they didn’t want to bother any of us. So they won ‘shinies’, traded those for- you know they bought the oldest alcohol only because they wanted to leave the fresh stuff for the other guests?”

Chrysalis facehoofs, her indignant anger at not being involved in decisions regarding a sum of money that could finance standard hive operations for a long time to come dissipating.

“Keep going,” she groans.

“There’s not much more to say. Right now, they’re mixing precious alcohol with ice creams, juices, and probably a fried chicken to make resins look… varied,” he glances hesitantly at the bottle still stuck in his leg hole, “They sent you this,” he puts the bottle on the doorside table.

“387, I didn’t think senility has been hitting you hard enough to believe that I wouldn’t catch that little white lie,” despite saying that, she swipes the bottle and puts it into the fridge, “Stop by in the evening. We’ll see if I’m in the mood for a bit of stargazing and… reminiscing.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. And the drones?”

“Leave them be. A stroke of luck like that doesn’t happen every day,” she shrugs, “Is that all?”

“Just one thing - can you sense Smiley?”

Chrysalis’ horn briefly flares up with green fire before vanishing.

“No, I can’t. Peculiar,” she frowns, “A brief check of the drones’ minds is telling me this has been happening since we arrived and Smiley has always returned unharmed.”

“I’ll check things out anyway. Just in case.”

“Do find some time to enjoy yourself, will you?”

Knowing whether or not it was you who orchestrated this entire trip would help…

“I’ll try to find two minutes somewhere in my busy schedule.”

“I wasn’t talking about sex, you dirty dog,” Chrysalis smirks.

“I guess I ran straight into that one,” 387 sighs, “Have a nice day, Chrysalis.”

“I fully intend to make use of this opportunity, whether it is some kind of a conspiracy against changelings or not,” she telekinetically grabs a saddlebag which jingles as it floats onto her back, “The anti-shapeshifting laws are annoying, but I guess I’ll visit the city today for some swimsuit inspiration.”

“Do you need protection?” asks 387.

“We’re changelings, 387. We can’t get pregnant if we don’t want to.”

“Oh screw you,” 387 rolls his eyes.

“You just can’t help running head-first into more innuendos, can you?” Chrysalis smirks.

Without another word, 387 just leaves.

***

As the warrior walks through the waking up resort, he ponders how to go about finding Smiley because no amount of hive link searching results in even the faintest hint towards the Silent’s location or at least a direction where to go.

I guess it’s time to bust out the big guns, even though it’s been a while to say the least.

387 finds a solitary place to sit down. Thankfully, nature interweaving with the resort roads offers nooks and crannies at every step, so he simply steps off the road down the slope, vanishes into the bushes, and quickly finds a tree with a layer of branches reaching all the way to the ground, under which he sits down, rests his back against the trunk, and closes his eyes. The natural cocoon of leaves and wood now surrounding him brings back memories he’d thought long forgotten.

“How is it going, Twinkleshine?” 387 hears a faint whisper which he knows is only inside his head.

“My duty is as harrowing as ever but, for the first time in ages, it seems as if I’m actually making a tangible difference.”

“That’s good to hear, friend.”

“I wish I could celebrate, but I’m the last one. 653 died in Canterlot last year. At least he picked a good replacement for the ‘orphanage’ before he went.”

“My condolences, but that’s one less thing to worry about now, I suppose.”

“What do you mean?”

“No need to hide our identities from Chrysalis anymore. It’s just you, and she knows about you.”

“You were always one to look for the bright side in everything. Makes sense we put you in charge. More importantly, it also makes me wonder how you’d fare if you were in my place.”

“I’d have been executed by some Queen centuries ago because I wouldn’t be able to stay silent and hidden. Likely for trying to openly save a sick changeling from being thrown into the crusher. Unlike you.”

“Do I smell a hidden reprimand?”

“No, far from it,” the voice chuckles, “You’ve proven time and time again that you can do the internal calculation right, and be detached when you need to. Different times require different ponies, and you’ve shown you’re the right one.”

“I’m still too far away from even beginning to think about… retiring.”

“That is for certain. Just like with some early Queens, this might only be a brief moment of respite.”

“Yeah-”

“However, that only means you should use it to recharge. Hope is a finite resource, just like everything else.”

“Don’t tell me you agree with Chrysalis that we should just relax and leave things be. This entire trip is a clear setup, whether by her or someone else.”

“Keeping an eye on current events and deliberately looking for trouble are two different things.”

“That is what has kept me alive.”

The voice sighs.

“Promise me one thing.”

“Hmm?”

“Take the evening with Chrysalis tonight.”

“She didn’t seem that eager to just sit and drink.”

“She offered, and she will accept if you show up. Take it, don’t try to scan her every word for treachery, and just enjoy it for what it is. If you never open up to her, how can she believe that you trust her to do the right thing?”

“Maybe because I DON’T?”

“She is trying. Failing a lot? Maybe. Does she have a different idea about what a good future is? Maybe. Does that mean she’s just leading you on? No. From all interactions you’ve had with her since the restoration of the hive I believe that’s not the case.”

“Hmph…”

“Twinkleshine, if you keep interacting with your memory of her, the image you’ve constructed of her during the peak of her rule, instead of the real her as she is right now, you will never reach an understanding.”

“Why are you against me?” 387 huffs, grumpy but without any real venom.

“Don’t be silly. Of course I’m not, but sometimes being on your side means kicking you in the right direction. Tough love and all.”

In the real world, 387 rolls his eyes and slowly breathes out as the voice in his head vanishes. Unlike the parasitic Queens who used to live in the hive mind and suck the entire hive dry, the old Flutterpony empathy simply allowed him to imagine what someone he knew extremely well would say.

And of course you’d show up to guide me just when I need it.

387 smiles. His ability unconsciously kicked in, pointing him in the right direction. After all, there are other ways to sense creatures, not as complex as hive links. As he relaxes again, he lets his mind go blank.

He can barely sense the first mental echo of nervousness nearby, but more and more emotional pulls from all over the place follow soon. Eventually, 387 re-learns to filter those.

The mix of nervousness and worry coming from the direction of the workshop. That must be the blue mare 99111 spent time with.

The busy joy coming from the apartment complex is easy to identify, so 387 takes it a step further and tries to connect the varied emotional tints to correct drones. Care and duty - 10013. A mind similar to his own, one looking for an escape in a game and succeeding only partially - 36658. One that’s not as consumed with happiness, but with gears turning - 99111. Two emotional waves which feel very similar and just purely happy - 20100 and 99380. The final one conveys exhaustion but also content from a job well done - 99526.

After untangling that mess, it becomes vastly easier to sense the late morning guests moving around, either relaxing or deeply in thought.

Hah! There you are.

Two more directions marked by the pure, innocent happiness of drone minds flash inside his own. The more complex one, happy but heavily burdened by worry and responsibility to a degree 387 wouldn’t expect from a drone, must be 65536. However, the second one is pure, simple, and from what 387 can sense it’s genuinely enjoying itself even though there’s a second emotional flux in the same direction.

At least that puts the warrior’s mind at ease, although his -and, more importantly the QUEEN’S- inability to sense its hive link remains concerning. As if surfacing from deep water, 387 opens his eyes, refreshed with a clear direction in his mind, and gets going.

***

387’s tracking leads him up a winding path towards a solitary gazebo surrounded by thick vegetation. As he approaches, he spots two figures - Smiley sitting at a central round table and vigorously moving its foreleg, and Gem who is flipping through pages of what from the distance looks like a magazine. Moments of careful sneaking later, with nothing else changing, his hive link finally acknowledges Smiley’s presence. As he gets closer, without any rock or pebble crunching under his hoof or anything, Gem turns her head straight towards him. A moment of visible surprise later, she taps Smiley on the head and points at 387.

Smiley enthusiastically waves a small, hoof-held blackboard covered in white scribbles in the air before hopping down from the chair and rushing out of the gazebo towards 387 with the board held in its mouth despite it having a string on one side, presumably for hanging on something. Suddenly braking in front of him so hard a spray of pebbles showers his legs, Smiley starts waving the blackboard as far up as it can reach, prompting the warrior to take and examine it, trying to decipher the mess of symbols, numbers, and letters and failing miserably. Even to him it just seems like a jumbled mess. However, lowering the board reveals Smiley’s proud and excited face looking up at him, so he opts against examining strange white marks on the Silent’s head.

“Well done, whatever it is,” he gives the board back where Smiley scrunches its muzzle and examines the contents again before wiping everything off, scribbling only three big, capital letters this time-

[JAM]

-and pointing at the zebra who is carefully observing 387, head slightly tilted to the side.

It takes a second to click inside 387’s head.

“Holy shit…” he breathes out, his jaw dropping, “How?”

Gem giggles and beckons 387 to approach. Temporarily too stunned by the discovery of Smiley’s mental capacity to focus on any potential danger of the situation, he does so and sits down on the bench lining the gazebo wall opposite the zebra.

Smiley hops up next to him, narrowing its eyes briefly before wiping its board again and scribbling:

[387]

“Yep,” he nods before looking at Gem again and repeating, “How did you do it?”

“I just lent a helping hoof,” she replies, leaving the central table and sitting down on the bench across the gazebo from 387. The situation seems amicable right now, but even she’s bound to need some space in case things go south, “The hard work is being done by Smiley.”

“But how? Silent’s are supposed to be just hollow shells that obey orders. Even if Smiley has been getting better since we stopped being at war- at odds with Equestria, no one has been able to get into its head to fix it. Does it have something to do with this?” he rubs one of the white lines near Smiley’s temple.

Gem takes a deep breath.

“Since you’ve interrupted our session, how about we use the time I have left for a trip?”

“Why?” suspicion returns into 387’s mind.

“Because, just as you stated, what I’m doing is incredibly difficult and slow, and the only reason it’s working is because some part of Smiley wants to be able to communicate with others more than anything,” she sighs, “But even accounting for that, getting Smiley to concentrate for longer stretches of time is still a pain.”

“But how? Where did you even start?” 387 leans forward.

“I’ll tell you, but I’d rather not waste time sitting here when I know Smiley won’t benefit from us talking, so how about we stretch our legs a bit?”

387 has to admit that without grabbing Gem and shaking her until she starts talking, which would definitely cause more harm than good even though she created this strange situation, he won’t learn anything.

Just be EXCEEDINGLY careful, 387. There are too many weird things about her.

Funnily enough, this reflects Gem’s own internal dialogue.

If I need to knock him out again, the pheromone trick won’t work out in the open. Thankfully, melding minds with Miss One for so long did teach me tricks that would work on a Flutterpony. Of course, any of that would make my cover too difficult to maintain, and I can’t afford Chrysalis learning about dad. According to Miss One, Chrysalis isn’t the best with infiltrator mental abilities, but there’s no reason to risk facing her.

Day 7 - Drones? What drones?: 3/7

“You never take a break, do you?” asks Gem quietly but still audibly enough so that 387 can hear her over the chatter of other guests of the group walking up a sloping mountain path.

The warrior, walking next to her with a little delay so that he can see the back of her head, doesn’t even bother denying that the majority of his attention is occupied by her no matter how much Smiley is running around with the occasional slowdown due to stumbling on three legs and writing or drawing on its tablet.

“You still haven’t answered how you’ve managed to do something changelings thought impossible,” he replies, “Silents don’t-”

“Are you sure any of you actually tried?” she asks with just the faintest hint of bitterness in her voice.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 387 frowns.

After a long time of walking up the slope of the inactive volcano taking up the eastern third of the island, they reach a short cliff with a staircase carved into its side, accompanied by solid railings. The guide walking first beckons at the guests and leads the way while calling out:

“We’re almost there! The terrace is right above us.”

With the guests queuing up for the final stretch of the ascent, Gem makes Smiley stop playing with its tablet and has it walk ahead of her, avoiding the need to answer 387’s question immediately. She can’t tell the warrior anything concrete, but the right mix of truth and lies should be much more useful.

One brief climb later, a vast, flat grassland stretches in front of them while the slope of the volcano continues rising several hundred pony lengths to the right. The terrace is covered with rocks and what on the first glance looks like ruined buildings, with a large, clearly maintained one far in the distance. Gem walks over to the edge of the cliff they’ve just climbed, and admires the view - the sparkling sea down in the distance, the slope covered by a mix of resort areas and well-maintained vegetation, and finally the short stretch of a much wilder jungle they’ve just crossed.

“It’s not Canterlot, but the sea and the quiet make up for it,” she smiles, whispering, “I wish you were her to see it, dad. You deserved- no, I know you’re still out there somewhere. You deserve more than dark tunnels.”

387 approaches her, but the guide starts talking just as he opens his mouth to press the issue of presumably impossible mental recovery.

“There are several terraces just like this one along the slope of the volcano, but this one is the largest. The rocks you see scattered everywhere around are the remains of a city mixed with pyroclastic debris. Care to guess what species used to live here just from the style of architecture?” the griffon guide walks over to the closest remnants of a wall and taps his talons against it. After several calls of ‘pony’, ‘griffon’, and even a ‘dragon’, the guide continues, “You’re all correct to a small degree, actually. This island used to lie on the path of dragon migrations during the time of the settlers, and inside the museum -the large building you can see standing ahead- you’ll see paintings of battles as well as scorched remains of armor and weapons. However, as far as we know dragons never settled this island for some weird reason. Both ponies and griffons did, actually, and the fusion of industrial and natural architecture, which will become more apparent as we visit the buildings which survived the passing of time in a better shape, belongs to their hippogriff descendants. In the year 248 of the second Irongrip dynasty-”

Smiley’s wings instinctively buzz as it leans over the cliff edge and gets pulled back by Gem’s foreleg. In response, it gives her a hug and trots off to keep up with the main group of the guests. Gem deliberately trails a bit behind to allow 387 some time alone with her.

“I had a changeling friend,” she says when the warrior approaches as expected, “A mentally impaired drone, albeit far from Smiley’s deficiency.”

“Had?”

“He was killed by paladins during the hunts for stragglers following the invasion,” Gem looks down at the grass, “He tried reaching out to one of them to show him that he wasn’t a threat, and he ended up with a knife rammed through his skull…”

After so much waiting to pry the information from Gem, 387 suddenly has no clue what to say.

“My condolences,” he forces out.

Gem sighs.

“Sorry, it’s not something I wanted to talk about, but I knew you wouldn’t stop. Unlike the other drones you brought with you, or definitely unlike 65536, Smiley reminded me of him and I was curious if I could make a difference… this time,” she forces a smile, “To my own surprise, I think I did.”

“But how?”

“I don’t know why, but I felt that Smiley wasn’t… I don’t know how to say it. Smiley wasn’t a blank slate that would need a complete rebuilding to begin interacting with the world, rather someone who wanted to interact with the world, but some part of its mind or body wasn’t allowing it to, so I focused on that,” she chuckles when 387 opens his mouth to say, “Yet another how, Mister 387? You’d be surprised how quickly you can earn a drone’s trust if you offer it candy that’s laced with various cognitive enhancers and work your way up from there.”

“You experimented on it?” 387 huffs.

“Nothing invasive or dangerous, I swear, although giving a drone an earthpony’s dose of caffeine was… a mistake. I’m not exactly an athlete and catching that little buggo was quite a chore. However, I soon realized that, as I said earlier, Smiley’s problem was a bit different, and I just did the basics - pictures, reading, writing, just throwing the entire kitchen sink at the problem and hoping that something would stick.”

“Your… potions and alchemy work on changelings?” asks 387 carefully.

“Hmm? I’m an excellent practical alchemist, plus I have experience with changelings, as I said. I doubt I could get past a changeling’s adaptability if they were directly resisting my attempts, but that wasn’t Smiley’s case. Look, I know I probably should have asked your Queen first, but I also heard stories about how drones are treated in the hive, both from 65536 and from my dead friend.”

“These days, it’s better,” 387 shakes his head, “Far from great but significantly better. The Queen would likely just tell you to do what you want instead of stopping you. If she was feeling particularly generous, she might assign me or 99 to watch over the process.”

“99?” Gem tilts her head, “I thought the second high rank of your delegation was 93.”

Her knowledge of the hive is worrying, but consistent with what a random surviving drone or 65536 would tell her.

“She got demoted recently,” 387 shrugs, “I wasn’t told why.”

“Huh…” is all Gem says about that, “Anyway, I’m glad I had time alone with Smiley. As I said, any disruption to its concentration is difficult to recover from, and I doubt I’d have gotten as far with it always looking over its shoulder at the nearby high rank.”

“I guess,” with Smiley found and mystery revealed to be non-threatening, 387 finds himself losing interest, but Wistful’s words regarding using moments like this to recharge return with vengeance, and he tries something he hasn’t done in ages - making smalltalk, “Nice, uhh, weather we’re having.”

Well done, 387. Well done. Truly an opening worthy of an ancient changeling.

Gem looks at him, covers her mouth, and laughs.

“Indeed. How are you enjoying the trip so far?” she counters, “Aside from the crash, I mean. It would be rather strange if that part was your favorite.”

“I’ve been through enough adrenaline moments to avoid willingly seeking out more. How… about you? What’s your favorite part of the trip?”

“Smiley, for sure, otherwise I wouldn’t have spent so much time with it, but I’m trying to get a taste of everything. Back home, I usually sit at a workbench, surrounded by bubbling beakers.”

387 measures her bombshell body from hooves to her silvery, pink-streaked mane.

“You don’t look like someone who doesn’t move around much.”

“I prefer quality over quantity,” Gem giggles, “But mostly I do have to keep a careful eye on what I eat.”

At some point during their crossing of the ruins, Smiley gallops to the duo with the tablet in its mouth, grabs it, and waves it above its head:

[o]

“Oh?” Gem tilts her head.

“A circle?” 387 takes a guess too.

Smiley darts back and forth, which prompts the duo to follow and find a big, black stone slab in the ground hidden in the corner of a random house ruin. Jutting out of the ground above it is a triangular construct from the same material, and both it as well as the section of floor are covered in indecipherable writing. What is decipherable is a brass plaque on a raised stone nearby stating “A presumed grave of an important city official. Protected by the Imperial Historical Society. Any damage is subject to a fine of-”

“Stop jumping up and down!” 387 barks at the Silent hopping directly on the smooth rectangle as he reads the punitive sum on the plaque.

Smiley waves its tablet one final time, makes the circle bigger into [O] before hanging it around its neck again and walking muzzle first into 387’s foreleg.

“Yeah yeah, it’s fine. Just don’t do it again,” the warrior pats its head which makes it cheer up immediately.

The scattered guests reunite as the core of the group reaches the museum in the center of the ruins which, according to the non-stop narration of the guide, is a replica of the hippogriff town hall this city used to host.

“-the hippogriffs later assumed a more natural way of life in the jungle covering the west half of this island after the last eruption of mount Ataraki, which destroyed this city, roughly six centuries ago and they live there up to this day.”

While the architecture and history are vaguely interesting, Gem begins examining numerous glass boxes lining the walls, some containing strange, white-ish, metallic fragments, others hosting rocks with smooth carvings, and many more curiosities. As she stops by one containing fragments which the plaque calls ‘arrowheads?’, 387 joins her mostly due to having nothing else to do.

“Oh wow,” he raises an eyebrow, “I haven’t seen this material in ages.”

“I have. Yesterday, in fact,” says Gem, “The supporting wall of the ‘temple’ on the seafloor was made of the same thing.”

“That makes a lot more sense,” 387 nods.

“How come?” asks Gem.

“The last time I even heard of this thing, it was a building material up north, even beyond the Crystal Empire. I think it had something to do with some old civilization that lived underground, but I just know scraps of what I caught in the hive mind here and there before- nevermind.”

“Underground civilization?” Gem smirks, “A competition for old changelings, maybe?”

“Not really, it’s too far north,” 387 shakes his head, “But from what I recall the northern tundra had more tunnels than solid earth, and some reached much further south. It’s not impossible that they could have spread even here.”

“Hmmmm,” Gem rubs her chin.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe she didn’t need to return to the surface after fleeing Las Pegasus. If that’s the case, I have to explore the northern tundra itself when this is over.

***

Hour and a half later as well as a good number of pony lengths lower, namely back in the resort, Gem has Smiley jump off of her back. The Silent does so but stops in front of her and scribbles a [?] on its tablet.

“387, mind taking care of Smiley for today?” asks Gem, “There’s something I need to go check out.”

“I think it’ll survive just fine on its own,” 387 shrugs.

“Oh I’m not worried that somepony will hurt it,” Gem shakes her head, “I just think Smiley will benefit from being accompanied by someone who can help it broaden its horizons.”

Smiley scribbles a circle with dot eyes and a smile and points its tablet at 387.

“Fine…” sighs.

Smiley beams, wipes the tablet and writes a [?->] on it, with the arrow pointing at a lamp post.

“That’s a lamp. It’s not ‘shiny’ now because they only turn it on after sundown,” explains Gem, which seems to be enough for Smiley who trots off to the nearest bench and points the arrow at it next, “Your turn, 387,” she smirks at the warrior before turning away, “And thank you for the company.”

“You too, Miss Gem,” he replies politely and watches her walk away down the main avenue leading towards the sea.

What did I gain from this?

He looks at Smiley patiently sitting by the bench and pointing its tablet towards it.

“That’s a bench. Ponies and griffons sit on those so that their hair or fur doesn’t get dirty. Our carapace is much easier to clean so we don’t need those.”

Smiley’s puzzled stare reveals he might have conveyed way too many too complex concepts at the same time. With a sigh, 387 says:

“Let’s go. If I have to foalsit you today, we're doing something useful,” he rolls his eyes, repeating, “It’s called a bench. It’s for sitting on.”

Smiley scrunches its nose before beaming and-

“Don’t crawl into the-!”

-pouncing into a nearby trash can. Two forelegs quickly rise from the hole, showing the arrow on the tablet pointing downwards.

387 walks over, peering into the two glowing blue eyes looking up at him.

This is going to be a long day…

Day 7 - Drones? What drones?: 4/7

“That’s a tree- yes, I know it’s a different tree than before. I don’t know which exact tree that grows in this biome it is- ohthankholesit’sthem,” 387 spots several zebras surrounding a changeling, all chilling on the beach.

Curious about what drew 387’s attention, Smiley stops darting from one thing to another and pointing at random objects using the tablet hanging on a string around its neck. To 387’s surprise, the Silent’s eyes light up when it notices 1313’s group, and it bolts ahead.

“There goes the careful approach,” hisses 387 and runs after Smiley.

Of course, neither of the duo goes unnoticed by the group, and 387 finds himself intercepted by two zebra bodyguards while Smiley is let through where it immediately pounces at Zamira and clamps all four legs around her chest and neck.

“Well hello, little guy!” the zebra smiles, patting its head, “Smiley, was it?”

“Yep,” confirms 1313, standing up and joining the two bodyguards engaged in a face-off with 387, “Is this a social visit, 387?”

387 bows before 1313, which only puts the two flanking zebras even more on edge.

“Only partially, baron,” replies 387 politely, “However, I’m not here on any hive business if that’s what bothers you.”

“Obviously,” 1313 frowns before taking a deep breath and saying, “Zaida, Zara, at ease, please,” he beckons 387 to sit down with him in the shade of a beach umbrella. The zebras let them pass, but 387 can’t help noticing that one sits down in his blind spot and the other by 1313’s side.

Professionals. One is ready to get 1313 away in case of trouble and the other to get me from the back. Still, a significantly better start than with ‘Ten’.

Smiley darts to them, pointing one by one at the zebras with its tablet reading [JAM->].

“What’s this about?” 1313 pats Smiley’s head with a confused smirk.

“It turns out that Gem has been radically successful in awakening Smiley’s brain power. On one hole, its progress is unbelievable. On the other, I’ve been dealing with this since morning,” explains 387, tapping the Silent’s side, “No, they’re not Gem. They’re zebras… striped ponies.”

Smiley wipes its tablet and remains watching the black slate for a while.

“Honey, you know how I said earlier I was thinking I might want to adopt one?” Zamira sits by 1313’s side in a way which 387 immediately recognizes as body blocking his access to 1313.

Even his wife or whatever she is is his bodyguard, and apparently a good one.

“Yes?” 1313 looks at her.

“Now I know I want one!” she pulls Smiley into a hug. Surprised at its sudden wriggling and resistance, she lets go immediately. Once Smiley grabs the tablet still lying in the sand and hangs it around its neck again, it returns and curls up between Zamira’s forelegs.

387 smiles.

That’s a downright creepy smile, but damn if I can sense anything other than love from her.

“I can arrange that,” says the warrior, “We don’t hatch that many new drones these days, mostly due to the improving survival rate, but I can persuade the Queen to let one live with you.”

“Zamira has a soft spot for grateful creatures who’ve gone through Tartarus,” 1313 takes a jab at his wife.

“Well, you would know,” she immediately shoots back.

“Yeah,” admits 1313 with a smile.

“It wouldn’t be difficult to find a drone who suffered an injury which puts it in more danger in the tunnels than others,” clarifies 387, “When I said ‘improving survival rate’, I didn’t mean that the hive started planning a retirement fund.”

“I guess as long as it’s not an infiltrator in disguise,” 1313 shrugs and sees Zamira’s grin grow from the corner of his eye.

“I’m pretty sure you would recognize one unless they were around my rank and, quite honestly, the Queen wouldn’t waste someone that high up to plan some San Palomino takeover. Get on the waiting list for the Canterlot nobility and then we might talk.”

1313 sighs.

“You never know what’s inside her head.”

“I agree, but-”

We both know which version of Chrysalis is inside OUR heads.

“-as little as I trust her, at which point do I start focusing on what she’s doing right now rather than on what she did before the… invasion?”

“Solid point,” 1313 replies after some thought, “Fine,” he grins at Zamira, “But we can’t let my wife do the picking or you’ll end up swinging a pickaxe yourself due to sudden lack of available dronepower.”

“Har har,” Zamira pouts, “I’d just take one… three maximum… five if they’re too hurt. I CAN HUG THEM ALL!” she waves her forelegs in the air, startling Smiley scribbling on its tablet.

[ZZZ?->]

It points at Zamira, Zaida, and Zara in sequence. Faced with stares devoid of understanding, Smiley frowns before wiping the tablet, hucking out a fresh chunk of goop and rolling it into a stick.

“Can I?” 1313 reaches for the goop chalk stick and the tablet. The concept of giving permission to a high rank is rightfully alien to Smiley so it just watches and wibbles slightly as 1313 takes it, “I’ll give it back. Don’t worry.”

After a moment, he returns the tablet now covered in small writing to Smiley.

[Zamira, zebra, (((]

[Zaida, zebra, (((]

[Zara, zebra, (((]

[387, changeling, oo]

[1313, changeling, oo]

Smiley scrunches its nose, lies down over the presented tablet like a sphinx, and starts studying.

“That might give us some time. So, what’s the business part of your visit, 387?” asks 1313.

“Oh right,” 387 taps his hoof against the sand, “It’s about the ship crash,” he notices everyone tensing up a little, “You used tools to build the shelter you used on the beach, right? A saw, specifically.”

“Yes, pieces of my carapace,” 1313 nods.

“Did you lend those to anyone or did you see anyone else use tools?”

“Wouldn’t work,” 1313 shakes his head, “My pieces don’t last long when they’re detached from my body.”

“Ah. And did you see anyone else using tools?”

“Nope,” 1313 looks around, which is answered by the zebras shaking their heads, “I don’t think I heard woodworking noises either.”

“We were practicing our survival skills, though, not watching other groups,” adds Zamira.

“What’s this about?” asks 1313.

“I found the remains of the shelters that were built for the guests, and there were a whole bunch of saw marks and fragmentation caused by axes. Plus, the crash site was pretty well cleaned up.”

And the caches deeper in the jungle, but 1313 doesn’t need to know that. At least some of us should enjoy a ‘vacation’.

“That’s due to legal reasons. The cleaning, I mean,” replies 1313, subtly reminding 387 that he’s talking with an infiltrator who did his fair share of scouting, “The resort has a treaty with the native hippogriff tribe that they’re not supposed to do logging or mining operations on the island. As for the tools, though… my transformed carapace isn’t tough enough, so our saws were more on the brute force side rather than precision equipment. If the marks you saw were clean cuts then those weren’t made by us.”

“Thanks, I appreciate you talking to me,” 387 nods, and looks at Smiley who is still crunching its new reading assignment while Zamira is absent-mindedly scratching it behind one ear, “I won’t bother you any further. Let’s go, Smil-”

“You don’t have to leave right this moment,” 1313 glances towards Zamira as well, before offering 387 a bottle from an ice-packed cooler box sitting in the shade of the umbrella, “Lemonade? We’ve got three flavors here - lemon, strawberry, and uhh… blue blast.”

Momentarily stunned by the proposition, 387’s mind starts reflexively running through ambush scenarios before he asks:

“Lemonade? Most guests I saw around had beer or even wine, as stupid as it is to drink that on a hot beach.”

“Girls hate the smell of regular beer,” 1313 nods to the zebras, “and I must say I agree. You can get more lemony flavors here, but they’re seriously expensive.”

“Expensive? Aren’t you a noble?”

“Northern San Palomino isn’t exactly a gold mine, 387,” 1313 laughs, “Besides, I tend to invest in development rather than hoard bits, so we’re not going on any shopping sprees on this trip either.”

“I’m sorry,” 387 looks away, “I can’t help but keep forgetting that you’re an infiltrator, not just some pony noble with an overblown ego like most guests here.”

“Wouldn’t that be a good thing for you?”

“Huh?”

“You’re not anyone’s target for once. No lower ranks aiming to kill you and take your place, no games of politics aimed towards the hive because, let’s be honest here, neither of us is important in the grand scheme of things, not even Chrysalis.”

“Aside from our yet unexplained presence here in the first place,” 387 corrects him.

“Obviously,” 1313 nods, “Look, I’m telling you this because I’ve been talking to nobles a lot over the course of this trip. You know, doing the same scouting you were doing -oh yes, I noticed. You’re not that inconspicuous- but in different circles. My guards as well as my wife did the same and we found nothing. What’s the chances of this actually being Chrysalis’ plan to relax in a luxurious place that wouldn’t let changelings in outside of a diplomatic contact?”

“I don’t know,” 387 sighs, “Yes, I considered that possibility, but I haven’t managed to get anything concrete so far. She doesn’t trust me because she knows I’m not her obedient goon, and no one else trusts me because they think I am exactly that.”

“That’s precisely why you need a place where you can just let go and shut down, even if it is just for an hour or so,” 1313 reaches into the cooler, “So, lemon, strawberry, or blue blast?”

387 glances at Zamira booping Smiley, who scrunches its nose, pointing at her stripes, and then at the ((( on the tablet. The Silent’s jaw drops in amazed realization.

“Give me that blue thing, please.”

***

Strolling along the promenade roughly an hour and a half later, 387 isn’t particularly interested in the daily life of the resort. However, keeping an eye on Smiley who is running around with seemingly limitless energy and definitely a limitless amount of chalk goop, busy with its newly discovered primary source of enjoyment which is pointing its question-marked tablet at everything.

“That’s an ice cream stand,” replies 387, now more automatically rather than with any concern about Smiley understanding it or not. Like with every answer since leaving 1313’s group, Smiley just points its tablet at something else next, “Do you want some?”

Smiley sits down, processing.

“Nevermind,” 387 queues up behind the current shopper.

“Hiiiii, 387!” the friendly, chipper voice of 65536 greets the warrior from behind.

“Hey,” 387 raises a hoof in greeting before noticing Blueblood standing by 65536’s side and his voice loses its friendliness, “Your Highness…”

Blueblood gives him a blank glance before looking at 65536 and asking:

“Can you take this one?”

“Umm, yeah,” 65536 scratches its head, “Blueblood is kinda in trouble with Princess Celestia and everyone else, really, and there are a bunch of things I don’t think I’m allowed to tell you, but right now we’re getting ice cream. Blueblood, this is 387. 387-”

“I know who he is, and I know what he did,” 387 narrows his eyes. To his surprise, Blueblood lets out a short, barking laugh.

“I doubt that.”

“Stop that, BB!” 65536 pouts, “I know you can deal with a situation like this diplomatically. Miss Gem believes in your skills, it’s the rest of you that was the problem. Take this as a chance to exercise a new, better you,” it looks up at him and smiles encouragingly.

“I’m going to minimize the amount of air I breathe,” Blueblood rolls his eyes.

“Don’t bother,” 387 turns around and faces the stand owner, “One mint and one chocolate and vanilla mix. Both cones.”

“Coming right up,” the vendor begins preparing the ice creams.

“Mister 387,” Blueblood clears his throat, “I know what I did, I won’t make any excuses, and I’m fully aware I haven’t paid nearly enough. The best I can do right now is to avoid causing more harm. I would apologize, but I’m not stupid enough to believe you would accept it.“

“I don’t need your apology,” 387 takes the presented cones and shoves them into leg holes on one foreleg, “I wasn't the one outfitted with an explosive collar, nor one of the many whose heads ended on spikes.”

Blueblood takes a breath for a presumably long reply before breathing out again and simply saying:

“Understood.”

387 presents his foreleg to Smiley, saying:

“The brown and white one is for you.”

After sniffing both cones for some reason, Smiley takes the correct one, leaving 387 still guessing if it understood his message or just picked at random. However, when 387 starts licking its own, the Silent scribbles a [:)] on its tablet, puts it back around its neck, walks over to Blueblood, and offers him the ice cone instead.

“What?” the ex-prince breathes out, blinking in surprise.

“Smiley thinks you’re a friend, I guess,” 65536 beams.

“I-” Blueblood shakes his head, “You know what? I’ve met enough of you little weirdos to know what you’ll do if I refuse,” he takes the cone, “Thank you.”

Smiley brightens up again after the moment of uncertainty while 65536 trots by and orders two more cones, one for itself and one which it gives to Smiley.

“A trade is a trade,” it says, “You gave BB your ice cream, BB did something good, which is something that I wanted, so I gotta give you something for everything to be fair. Just be careful, it’s-”

Smiley shoves the entire cone in its mouth and starts chewing.

Smiley’s eyes twitch and blink out of sync.

It grabs its head with both forelegs and silently opens its mouth.

“Every time,” 65536 shakes its head wisely, “Our weakness to noms strikes again. Don’t worry, it’ll pass soon,” it pokes 387 who has started habitually observing their surroundings and assumed his resting ‘I will murder you if you as much as hint at being a threat’ face, “By the way, what were you two doing together? I thought you’d be scouting as usual and Smiley would be with the others.”

“It’s a long story,” 387 shrugs.

“Well, are you in a hurry?” 65536 raises an eyebrow.

“I guess not right now,” 387 smirks, “So, it all started with Gem successfully teaching Smiley to write and-”

“WHAAAAAAAT?!”

Author's Note

Welp, my AI pony drawing experiment was a total failure, so I guess it's back to pixels.

Day 7 - Drones? What drones?: 5/7

“You want to spar?” 387 snorts in disbelief, “Are you serious?”

“Why not?” 65536 smiles back at him, “It’s not like we’ll be fighting for real, and I need some practice with this new carapace. I did my pushies last night and ooof, I was gooped.”

“Heh, I can just imagine how the fight goes,” Blueblood chuckles, “Look, 65536, candy! Where? Crunch!”

“For your information, a pony did try to bribe me once with shinies and I told him no!” 65536 pouts at him, “Mister Sharp would be so disappointed if I took it.”

“Let’s ask an impartial judge,” 387 looks at Smiley riding on Blueblood’s back and playing with his mane, “Smiley, you don’t want me to smack 65536 around, do you? In play, not for real.”

*Process…* *Scribble scribble scribble*

[play]

“Yaaaay!” 65536 cheers.

“Fiiiine,” 387 sighs, “So where do you want your ass beat? I suggest somewhere out of the way so that I don’t get accused of abuse.”

“There are a ton of open spaces around the sports area, and we can get there quickly if we go straight up from here.”

“Sure,” the warrior shrugs and the group picks up the pace while taking the nearest narrow path straight up the slope. Their opportunity arrives even sooner when the path splits off to a grassy clearing to the right, similar to where the gazebo which Gem used to teach Smiley was. The resort is clearly full of nooks and crannies where someone can relax undisturbed, “How about we do it here instead?”

“Sounds good to me,” 65536 nods and heads right.

Blueblood drops Smiley off by the clearing’s edge and sits down while 65536 and 387 face off.

“No digging,” states the warrior, “I’d like to avoid potential real damage. I’ll hold back on the strength, but don’t expect me to go easy on you as far as technique goes.”

“Agreed!” 65536 nods, bouncing up several times, “As I said, I need to try out these new body changes.”

For reasons unknown to Blueblood, Smiley is now interested in his ribs visible under his coat, prodding and sniffing him. To avoid more tickling, he grabs Smiley’s foreleg and points it at 65536.

“You were the one who wanted to see that exercise in futility, so watch,” he says quietly.

Smiley obediently turns towards the two “opponents” warming up with some basic movements, hucks out a glob of goop, and starts scribbling on one foreleg with the goop stick fastened inside a hole in the other.

Amidst stretching his back like a cat, 387 suddenly darts forward to simply trip 65536 up with a wide swipe which the smiling drone hops over, unfazed. A following backhoof swing for a trip attempt number two gets blocked by 65536’s own foreleg, resulting in a loud crack of chitin against chitin. That, however, leaves 387 on three legs with the right foreleg outstretched far to the left which 65536 immediately uses to grow a hook on its leg, stick it through 387’s nearest leg hole, and pull.

A perfect maneuver like that would end up with any other opponent on the ground. Unfortunately, 65536 is fighting a changeling warrior who is physically strong enough and experienced enough to maintain his balance even in such a crazy position and simply raise his outstretched foreleg despite the weird angle, leaving 65536 hanging from it.

The little drone doesn’t give up, though, dissolves the hook which makes it drop, uses one wing to spin in the air and finally, landing on all fours, darts under 387’s belly. As it punches up, the underbelly rises along with the warrior who now floats in the air, smugly smirking at 65536.

The drone takes a deep breath. Air battle is something it doesn’t want to take.

“Mister Sharp wouldn’t let an evildoer get away like that,” it whispers, and jumps up, wings buzzing.

This proves a critically bad idea almost immediately.

387 jumps through the air around 65536, as if everywhere his hooves touched was a solid surface allowing him to run not just circles but entire spheres around the drone who is barely able to turn in time. Easily getting into 65536’s blind spot, the warrior reaches for the drone’s hind leg from below to pull it down and-

-his hoof gets kicked away before 65536 stops its wings, drops like a rock, and kicks its other hind leg, once again trying to strike 387’s belly. This time, though, the warrior grows claws on his foreleg, grabs the leg, and throws 65536 away with a quick swing. It bounces off of the ground, but what stands up is a completely unharmed, smiling drone.

387 notices a brief flash of green around 65536’s hooves but spots no visible difference until the point when the drone rushes at him at over twice the speed that it was moving before. 387 was expecting many things, but not that he would actually have to focus. As he does so, a warrior changeling’s dramatically lowered reaction delay kicks in and he casually flicks his hoof to simply tap 65536 who by all means can’t be able to control its momentum at its high speed.

Somehow, and even the warrior has no idea how, the drone dodges to the side as if no laws of momentum existed at all, dirt spraying in 387’s face. He feels a tap on his swinging foreleg, hears a brief buzz of wings, and-

-snaps his jaws down around 65536’s neck, who is flying directly at his face, foreleg cocked for a punch. A quick twist of his head causes the punch to miss entirely and 65536 is left hanging almost like a cat being carried by its mother. 387 spits the drone out and they face off one more time.

65536 is fast, 65536 is agile, 65536 is tough, 65536 is strong and, most importantly, 65536 is smart…

… for a drone.

Both 387 and 65536 know that no amount of training or time would change the dynamic of this sparring. Any amount of skill gained by the drone would always be countered by 387’s physical superiority, vastly greater love storage, the ability to improve its reflexes beyond the drone’s potential speed, and if everything else failed - simple mind control, barring Luna’s protection. And digging? You can’t dig what you can’t touch.

And yet there the little drone is, breathing heavily and smiling as if it’s having the time of its life.

“My turn,” 387 smirks.

And there it is - a miscalculation, a tiny detail the warrior failed to account for.

Someone with as much of a kind heart and life experience as a drone would be vastly more used to being attacked rather than attacking someone else, doubly so with guard training.

As 387 lunges forward, something careless which he would never do against an opponent whom he’d consider dangerous, 65536’s hoof glows, but it doesn’t dig at 387, rather at a small patch of grass where 387’s left foreleg would step on, creating a deep groove in an instant. The warrior, of course, has the reaction time to move his leg mid-air to the edge of the hole…

…which crumbles under it. Sensing its chance, 65536 strikes forward at the falling warrior’s face.

Somehow, he has enough presence of mind to use his unsteady leg to push himself sideways and spin mid-drop with a quick buzz of one wing. The positional change makes 65536 barely graze his barrel while 387 swings with his right foreleg during the same motion, knocking 65536 away.

“That was a neat trick,” comments 387 when he stands back up and helps 65536.

“Thanks,” the drone smiles up at him, “Goop, I really thought this could work, though it might have been cheating because, you know, no digging.”

“I did mean digging at me while setting the rules,” 387 shakes his head before wincing as he glances at the hole in the well-maintained lawn, “although now that I see it, I think we should refrain from ruining this place further.”

“After watching you two go at it for a while, it’s clear even to me that nothing 65536 can do will succeed,” asks Blueblood, “Why do you waste your time on trying over and over?”

“Don’t look at me,” 387 shrugs, “I’m just supposed to relax for today, and this falls into the category. Besides, 65536 did manage to surprise me with nearly everything it did.”

“But there’s no way to win,” exasperation creeps into Blueblood’s voice as he looks at the drone, “Why do you keep trying when you’ll never be good enough?”

65536 walks over to him, rises on its hind legs, and barely reaches up to the ex-prince’s nose to boop him.

“I can become better than I’m now,” it beams, “When we started, I was barely stopping my legs from shaking when a high rank like 387 looked my way. Next, I tried fighting. Now all I’m trying to do is last longer. I’m fighting against myself, against every wrong instinct of my body yelling at me to lie down and hope I don’t get eaten, or to just run away and hide. I’m not fighting 387, he’s just there to help me reveal my real enemy - myself.”

“Did Mister Sharp say that?” 387 walks over, rubbing 65536’s head.

*Automatic blep!*

65536 slurps its tongue in.

“Yes, he did say something like that, and it made sense to me and it stuck. On top of that, if I get good enough then I can show tricks to guys back home that can help them not get munched by tunnel monsters,” it pauses, now looking at Blueblood with sudden smile of amazement which makes the prince slowly lean away, “Imagine how awesome YOU will be if you take all the learning chances you have now! You’d be like our High Score!”

Blueblood gives it a wok-slaying look.

“That was the nicest way possible to tell me that I’ve screwed up my entire life.”

“Let’s add one more failure to that pile then,” 387 says firmly, “Namely your assessment of our fight. Yes, 65536 wouldn’t win in ninety-eight percent of situations, but if it was allowed to use its digging ability on me, coupled with its quick thinking, it could be the first drone ever to have a chance in those two percent of cases. That is a miracle,” 387 briefly looks at the drone.

“I’m just doing what High Score would do,” 65536 beams back with pure honesty.

“My pile of failures is beyond fixing even if I started taking all the chances you think I have yesterday,” Blueblood slumps.

65536 sighs.

For a moment, it sounded like a breakthrough.

Smiley pokes Blueblood, showing him its tablet, and pointing with its other leg at him: [:)]

“You don’t know me.”

Smiley fiddles with the tablet: [Pat?]

Rolling his eyes, Blueblood pats Smiley’s head. To his surprise, Smiley redraws [:)] on its tablet and this time, with both forelegs, pokes him with it.

“Smiley has no idea what you did, it only knows what you’re doing now,” explains 65536, “And you did just pet it so you’re a friend. I can’t know what it remembers from the old days, but if it’s even close to what I do, it’s a lot of kicks going our way.”

Some buried instinct, or maybe a diplomacy lesson long forgotten, surfaces before Blueblood can say anything bitter, and he pets Smiley again while opting for:

“Don’t you have some futile exercising to do?”

387 faces 65536.

“There is some truth to what he’s saying - wouldn’t it be more useful to spar with someone more around your level?” he asks.

“I would, but this is an experience too,” 65536 shrugs, “I was practicing with Mister Bright Star, but the paladins took the resort boat and went away early in the morning to inspect the place where our ship sank.”

“I see,” 387 pauses, “Are you feeling up for another round then? Do you need a recharge?”

“Yup!” 65536 stretches, “And nope! I gotta rely on myself because baddies won’t wait for me to get ready.”

“Exactly!” from standing still, 387 takes a swing at 65536 mid-word which the drone barely dodges by jumping sideways, wincing as it lands. 387, of course, notices, “Are you okay?”

“Worry about yourself, evildoer!” 65536 points directly at him with a smile, pronouncing loudly and clearly, “You’ll pay for your crimes, and the prize will be an amount of bits fair and proportional to your transgression!”

***

While Blueblood watches 65536’s repeated fruitless attempts at even scratching 387, Smiley finishes its drawing, stands up, wraps a strand of Blueblood’s mane around its foreleg, and softly pulls on it.

“Hmm?” the unicorn looks sideways at the Silent whose body is now lined with white stripes everywhere it could reach, “Are you a zebra now or something?”

Smiley points at its tablet on the ground which states: [JAM]

“Oh-kay?” comments Blueblood slowly, clearly lost.

Smiley frowns, looks at the tablet, frowns harder, and writes [jamzebra].

“I understand the zebra part, but what’s with the jam? Do you want something sweet? Are you hungry?” Blueblood tilts his head. Whatever this is, it’s more interesting than 65536 being bounced around by 387 like a ball of yarn belonging to a hyperactive cat.

His pronunciation of jam gives Smiley a pause, and it wipes the slate off after a brief consideration. Instead, it draws a simplistic happy face on it again, walks over directly to sitting Blueblood’s chest, and starts fiddling with his unkempt coat.

“I’m afraid I don’t swing that way,” he mutters, slowly pushes Smiley away, and sighs when the Silent walks over to his side again and resumes being fascinated by his mane. With nothing better to do, he lies down and returns to watching the sparring. Smiley immediately climbs on his back to get more of his mane to play with… and chew, apparently.

Unlike at any point earlier, 65536 entirely fails to dodge a sideways swing this time, which knocks it over onto the lawn where it stays lying on its side, all four legs moving as if in slow motion.

“Crap!” curses 387, leaning over, “Are you okay?”

“Uhhh, I’m not sure,” replies the drone in a puzzled tone, “I feel okay, but my leggos seem to need a break. They just kinda… stopped working.”

“Ooookay, you’ve had enough,” 387 grabs the drone and stands it up on all fours, upon which its legs immediately buckle.

“Oof! Good thing we’re so bouncy,” comments 65536, its voice muffled by its muzzle buried in the grass, clearly fine aside from its limbs, “I’m thinking it has something to do with what Miss Cadance told 10013 yesterday - that our old carapaces kinda did our weight-supporting job for us. Now I’m a lot more mobile, but my leggos gotta catch up to the rest of my body. Gimme a month or two of doing my pushies and bendies and I’ll be as good as old!” it wiggles its legs ineffectively again, “Uhhh, BB, could you please carry me off to Miss Gem’s wooden shack? I might be stuck in brick mode for a while,” it chuckles.

“If it’s a muscular problem,” Blueblood makes a suggestion, “how about you hit the hot tubs, some sauna, follow it up with a massage, and see where you go from there? I usually had servants do it for me after an annoying day when I was still… when I still had them.”

“That sounds like a good idea, actually,” 387 nods in approval, “How about that, 65536?”

“Not sure what that is, but if you two think it’s a good idea then lead the way, BB!”

“I didn’t mean myself,” Blueblood shakes his head, “I haven’t earned it, like anything else. Setting that limit on myself is the least I can do now.”

“But I gotta keep an eye on you, and if you’re not coming, I can’t go-”

“Don’t worry about me,” says Blueblood, “If there’s something I can do, it’s lie down and rot. I promise you’ll find me in our suite in the evening still in one breathing piece.”

“Hmmm, I don’t think Miss Gem would like me just leaving you like that,” 65536 shakes its head as 387 picks it up and puts it on his back, “Hey, how about you take care of Smiley for the day? It seems to like you.”

“Are you SURE about that?” 65536 immediately hears 387’s mental voice as, under the warrior’s control, their internal time stops, “Even I know about what he did.”

“I’m not sure, but I think it might be worth the risk… for both of them,” replies the drone and, after a brief silence and a sigh, 387 says:

“You’re one of a kind, you know that?”

“I’m not special, 387. I was just lucky to get an opportunity none of the others got. If 10013 or High Score were in my place, I can’t even begin to imagine how far they would have come.”

The flow of time returns along with their focus on the real world.

“I had a cactus once. It died of lack of water,” grumbles Blueblood, “I fired a servant for that.”

“You’ve already got the petting part down,” 65536 says encouragingly, “And we drones aren’t high maintenance. Just show it around and send it back to the other drones later. It’ll know where to go,” 65536 gives him a hopeful smile, “Pleeeease?”

“I don’t know-”

*Wibble?*

“Oh for Celestia’s sake, FINE!”

Day 7 - Drones? What drones?: 6/7

“This might be a challenge,” a bulky griffon masseur examines 387 lying on his belly on a massage table, “Can you even feel anything through that armor?”

“Oh right, one second,” mutters 387, and a green shimmer passes through his carapace, “I should be soft now. Other than the carapace and wings, our physiology is pretty much the same.”

Experimentally, the masseur presses down on his hind calf and, despite the strange feeling akin to smooth leather under his talons, finds himself in a much more familiar territory.

“Good to know,” he says, raises 387’s hind hoof, and begins massaging its underside.

Holes… when we get home I’m sending a drone to pony land to learn this. I bet this is one thing Chrysalis will back me on without objections.

A brief knock on the door is followed by a female griffon peeking inside, and whispering:

“Psst! Hey! Got a minute?”

387 immediately tenses up, paranoia returning with a vengeance. She was the one who took 65536 next door a short while ago.

“Did anything happen?” he turns around and sits up.

“Oh, umm, no- well- maybe,” the griffoness scratches her head, “The little changeling fell asleep before I realized you guys are… uhh, tough on the outside.”

“65536, wake up!”

“Whozzahwoh?! Imawake! Didn’tfallasleeponthejob! Owmyleggos…”

“65536, you need to make your carapace soft so that the massage can happen.”

“Ohhhh, okay!” one brief pause later, “All soft and bendy now.”

“Fixed,” says 387 out loud, earning two confused looks, “We can communicate through magic and I told 65536 to make its carapace soft like I did.”

“Uhh, thank you?” she says.

“No problem,” 387 lies down again, the two griffons exchange glances, the masseuse leaves, and the masseur returns to doing his job.

***

Not feeling any desire to be around other creatures, Blueblood took a random nature route leading away from the center of the resort after splitting from 387 and 65536. Unfortunately, at least from his point of view, there’s still one creature left in the vicinity that’s refusing to leave.

“That doesn’t look like a zebra,” he comments on Smiley trotting a bit ahead, turning around, stopping, and pointing at its face, “That looks like one of those day of the dead celebration masks.”

The black changeling with somewhat random white smudges and lines covering its face tilts its head. Blueblood sighs, looks around, and spots a square, marble basin coupled with a drinking fountain standing by a bench nearby.

“Let’s sit down over there and I’ll fix it. Not sure why you’d want to be a zebra anyway-”

*Quick scribble!*

[jam]

“Ooof course,” he points on the bench, saying, “Sit.”

Without any complaints, Smiley hops on and sits down, eagerly awaiting further development. Blueblood fills the basin, wets his forelegs and wipes Smiley’s face clean.

“Now you’re clean,” he points at the water. Smiley looks at its reflection, then at Blueblood, and finally raises its leg with a chalk goop stick stuck in a hole, “No, give me that,” Blueblood pulls the stick out, “Good. Much less disgusting than I expected. Now face me and sit still,” he sits on the bench next to Smiley, and starts drawing on its face.

Work, activity, anything… but the changeling was wrong. Running away, not thinking about it, that would be less pain. I don’t deserve less.

“Good thing one of my- one of the zebras who used to work for me was shaving her mane or I wouldn’t know how the stripes go,” he mutters, tracing white lines on the black head, “You’re already inverted so it looks weird.”

Smiley looks up at him, making him draw a stripe across its face.

“Oh for buck’s sake!” he curses, “I told you to stay put.”

Smiley lowers its head, ears drooping. Seeing that, Blueblood takes a deep breath, lets it out, grabs Smiley’s head and makes it look up at him.

“If you want your zebra stripes done properly, stay still, okay? If you don’t do your part you’ll get nothing.”

Smiley blinks.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he reaches over the changeling, wets his hoof again, and wipes off the skewed stripe, “Now, it’s not just lines. The stripes change thickness as they go as well. Trust me, I watched my bodyguards’ plots more than enough.”

He pauses briefly.

“I guess it doesn’t matter if anyone hears me anymore,” he bites his lip, drawing blood, before resuming coloring Smiley’s carapace, “I did much worse than just watch. A prince and his bodyguards. I’m pretty sure if it wasn’t my father paying for them I’d have done worse than just groping… or taking a bath with them… massages. Or at least much more often,” he barks out a laugh, “And do you know that’s the most innocent thing I did? If your changeling friends knew a tenth of the things I did they wouldn’t leave me with you. Not that I would do anything of that sort to you. You have neither the proportions nor the holes…”

Hearing a concept that it recognizes, Smiley raises a foreleg, showing Blueblood a leg hole.

“Not what I meant. I meant the holes I sentenced a unicorn to death by hanging for. Yeah, I bet my aunt didn’t tell that story to anypony. I thought everypony would want a prince, and that that bat pony was only playing hard to get. Next thing I know, her coltfriend or whatever is beating the shit out of me. Of course I didn’t say what happened at the time. Is that surprising to anyone?” he pauses, sighing, “They hanged him for attacking royalty. Some time later, somepony looking just like him beat me up in an alley and stomped my balls into pudding. Divine justice? Probably,” he shrugs, “I wish he’d just killed me. So many things would have been better for so many ponies.”

Blueblood realizes that he’s having trouble seeing due to tears. Weird, he doesn’t feel sad or anything, it’s just coming out as he’s talking.

“Sorry, give me a moment or I’ll screw up even something as simple as drawing white lines just like I did everything else,” he wipes his eyes, “And yet I’m still here because much better ponies thought I had value. Now I can’t even have foals to be married off for diplomatic reasons.”

Another pause followed by more fixing of white lines on Smiley’s face.

“And you know what’s the worst part? I know I would keep doing that had I not been punished. I can’t fix anything because I’m not a good pony. I’m a bad pony who, right now, is having a moment of retrospection because they’ve been punished hard enough for it to get through. What will I do once the metaphorical pain goes away? Even if I survive long enough so that… somepony thinks that I could start again, what will I do on instinct? How do I avoid slipping back into being… the real me?”

“Intriguing…” comments a voice, making Blueblood look around with his heart suddenly jackhammering in his chest.

***

“I don’t know whether it’s a changeling thing, but you’re incredibly tense,” says the masseur now working 387’s hind thighs.

“Everyone keeps telling me to relax,” grumbles 387 into the head hole in the table, “Even you, the griffon who I’m surprised isn’t recoiling in disgust at touching a changeling.”

“I’m a professional first, sir,” the griffon digs deep, making 387 go ‘Nhhhgh!’, “You’re a customer, a unique one, and in what seems to me like an amazing shape. It’s not every day that I get to work on someone as interesting. Most days here it’s either lazy or downright horny nobles.”

“I’m not familiar with griffon standards but I guess it’s your fault for looking so physically top notch,” 387 once again demonstrates his excellent conversational skills.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It was one. I’m bad at smalltalk.”

The griffon moves from 387’s thigh up and pauses.

“Any places where I shouldn’t go?”

“Away,” mumbles 387, making the griffon chuckle, “Otherwise don’t worry. I’m a changeling. Caring about decency isn’t exactly a thing for us.”

“As you wish.”

Just as the griffon’s talons dig deep into 387’s backside, the session is interrupted once again by knocking.

“One second, please,” the masseur leaves, lighting up 387’s paranoia again.

As 387 turns around, he sees the masseuse who took 65536 carrying the snoring drone with one foreleg.

“Umm,” she whispers, “Mister changeling? You know how you said that you magically told your friend here to soften up. I think they might have overdone it a bit,” sitting down, she takes 65536’s small foreleg with her free one and rolls it like a boiled noodle…

…into a spiral. She lets go and 65536’s foreleg flops down again.

“Oh…” 387 blinks.

“I was afraid something bad would happen if I used some force-”

“Good thinking,” 387 tries to calm the obviously nervous masseuse down, “Hey, 65536,” he raises his voice.

“Iwasjustrestingmyeyes!” its head immediately shoots up, looking around, “NotasleepMisterSharp!”

“At ease, dummy,” says 387, “I told you to soften your carapace, the rest of you has to stay normal. You’ve freaked out the nice griffon lady.”

“Oh,” 65536 concentrates, which is followed by green flicker passing through its body, visible only through the gaps in its carapace, “My bad. Is that why I’m here?” it finally notices it’s hanging on the masseuse’s foreleg, “Sorry,” it turns its head and smiles at her.

“That’s, umm, okay,” she bows, still holding the drone, “Thank you again.”

Once she’s gone, 387 and the griffon resume the massage.

“Since you’ve been so open about a full-body massage,” the griffon asks with hesitation, “Would you like to hear about our full service? No extra charge.”

387 doesn’t even open his eyes this time. Once the shock of touching a changeling had subsided, the griffon’s interest had only been growing along with some side effects, and he would be a pretty unskilled changeling to not have noticed.

Relax. It’s not a trap. Probably…

“Show me what you can do,” 387 eventually breathes out, which prompts the griffon to spread the lying warrior’s hind legs, sit down between them, and begin to massage his lower back with deep, upwards strokes, almost lying down on him each time.

“You won’t regret it,” he breathes out into 387’s ear as he pauses during one, his muscular barrel resting on 387’s back.

He would be quite shocked if he could hear 387’s thoughts, because those are far from sensual.

Relax, warrior, that is not a concealed weapon. No, he’s not Chrysalis or 99 in disguise. PROBABLY not an assassin. Yes, he is just very happy to see you.

***

Chill runs down Blueblood’s spine. Of course he didn’t care who heard his confession to Smiley, or at least he thought so, but the rush of panic he felt when the voice talked and he realized someone else heard him conjured up images of…

…his aunt. Not his mother and father, but Celestia who would be the one to suffer blackmail for it.

Things only get stranger when the speaker walks out from behind a tree and reveals herself to be that grey-maned changeling from the hive delegation.

“Why are you sneaking around?” asks Blueblood, “If you intend to blackmail me about what you heard, don’t bother. I’ve been entirely disowned by both the crown and my family.”

99 slowly approaches.

“I was much more interested in why Smiley was alone with an unknown party, but when it didn’t seem in imminent danger, I decided to observe. My Queen, of course, will learn about what I heard whether I tell her or not. Since we’re not hostile forces anymore I don’t think there’s need to worry, though,” 99 attempts diplomacy, “May I join you?”

“You can go wherever you want. I don’t own this place,” Blueblood shrugs and deliberately turns again to Smiley who is sitting still and waiting for more face scribbling.

Heh, having no value to be exploited and not caring if she bites through my jugular does feel strangely freeing.

She sits on the bench behind him as he resumes drawing stripes on Smiley.

“Very lifelike,” she says, looking over his shoulder, “How did it come to this, by the way? I’m asking just in case you really foalnapped a changeling drone to use as canvas.”

“And I would for sure tell you if I did exactly that,” Blueblood turns Smiley’s muzzle sideways to reach better behind its ear, “Besides, don’t you bug- changelings read minds or something? Why even ask?”

“Smiley is a special case, and not in a good way. So?”

“No, I didn’t foalnap a changeling to use as a substitute for a zebrican coloring book,” Blueblood rolls his eyes. When 99 remains silent, he adds, “As far as I heard, Gem was teaching it something when your warrior found them and she unloaded it on him because she had something else to do. Then 65536 and I met them, the two sparred for a while, and finally left this one with me for the day. If you want to take it, you’re more than welcome to.”

“I thought you said they left you with a changeling, but all I see is a cute, little zebra,” she sticks her tongue out at Smiley who looks at her without moving her head whatsoever. It can’t resist, though, and sticks the tip of its tongue out as well.

Blueblood sighs.

“And I thought you heard what I said before you showed up.”

“I did,” says 99, pauses, and adds, “I guess I have to keep an eye on events if Smiley is with such a dangerous unicorn.”

Blueblood ignores her.

“You know,” 99 stops looking over his shoulder, “I can relate to your situation.”

“I sincerely doubt that.”

“Not in scale, that’s for sure, but in principle,” says 99, “I’ve been demoted. Just this morning, actually. It was for a mission I didn’t know I had, that wasn’t explicitly specified for me, but one I should have been smart and skilled enough to understand from context clues my Queen gave me.”

“I see where you’re coming from, but getting demoted and rightfully losing all your possessions, titles, rank in society, everyone who knew you personally now knowing the full extent of all you did is still not even remotely there,” he counters with a level of calm surprising even himself.

“Oh really?” 99 laughs with genuine amusement, “In the hive, losing rank means losing favor, losing access to love, and thus power. The power to defend yourself when others always want to devour you to boost their own and increase their rank.”

She tilts her head when Blueblood laughs too.

“Just like court politics.”

“Even the death part?” 99 asks, taken a little aback.

“Assassinations? Those are a bit more unusual these days but far from unique. I’m pretty sure my grand-grand-uncle died during a hunt when a hired tracker falsely reported a wounded Whitetail boar and he went to finish off an enraged and barely scratched beast.”

“Well, in the hive it’s a lot less cloak and dagger,” 99 channels all she heard from time before the invasion and Chrysalis’ change, “No one will protect you and no one will care if you die. If you do, you were weak and would have failed sooner or later anyway.”

“Hmph,” Blueblood huffs, “Are you telling me this so that I feel like I don’t have it so bad?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” 99 shrugs, “You might even absolutely deserve what happened to you, or worse, just like you believe should have happened but… what does that have to do with anything?”

“What do you mean?”

“What happened is what happened, not what you really deserved or believe you deserve. Why bother thinking about the past you can’t change?”

“To learn from it, and what I learned is that I can’t be better, that I’ll be the same if anyone shows any leniency towards me.”

“Hmmm…” 99 ponders what to say. One reason is because this unicorn’s situation is mildly interesting, and another is because it’s helping her explore her own situation somewhat, “And do you want to be a better pony?”

“What I want or don’t want doesn’t matter.”

“Not really what I asked. Do you want to?”

“I can’t. I know I’ll screw up again, that’s the problem.”

“Still not answering me. Do you want to become a better pony?”

“Yes!” Blueblood finally growls, “If only to get you off my back…”

“Heh,” 99 chuckles, “So, what now?”

“Now I’ll keep drawing stripes on a weird changeling that thinks it’s a zebra… or wants to be one… or something along those lines,” he grumbles.

“And then?”

“I think I’ll go lie down for a bit. For a certain reason sitting next to me I’m starting to get a headache.”

“Will that make you a better pony?”

“Lying on a sea floor, tied to a rock, would make me a better pony than I was but a certain somepony is refusing to allow me that liberty.”

“That one wasn’t aimed at me, was it?” 99 looks over his shoulder again, this time genuinely confused.

“No…” Blueblood sighs, “Look, why are you still talking to me? I won’t harm your changeling, so you can leave.”

“Just passing time and thinking, mostly. Not just about your situation but also mine.”

“Can’t you do that anywhere else?”

“You’re unexpectedly good at controlling your anger,” she changes the topic entirely, voice now flat and analytical, “As we were talking, I checked the hive mind for knowledge about you. I know what you did to 1313, what he heard about you forcing yourself on his bodyguards, and much more. And you know what I heard before I approached you? Someone coming to terms with their nature and wanting to be more than that.”

“Nature, that’s the problem.”

“My nature is hunting down lonely ponies, sucking out their love, mesmerizing them into giving me their worldly resources, leaving them broken, and moving onto the next target. Yet still, here we are, talking while you’re drawing zebra stripes on a changeling whose ‘nature’ is digging holes until it gets devoured. What you want doesn’t matter, I agree, or at least doesn’t always have to matter, what you do does,” she stands up, finally realizing what her own course of action should be now, “So let me ask you one final time - what now? If you, just for a brief moment, forget everything that happened up until this point, and if you really want to be a better pony, no matter how little your intent might mean or how impossible that goal might seem, what do you do next? Humor me. Think of it as a mental exercise, if nothing else.”

Blueblood stops drawing on Smiley, puts the chalk stick down, closes his eyes, and just breathes.

This is stupid. This is stupid. This is stupid. It’s just so that she finally goes away.

I WOULDN’T EVEN KNOW WHERE TO START!

Anything. No matter how small.

What does that nosey little changeling guard always keep saying about Sharp Biscuit? Something something fresh air and exercise?

He sighs.

“I’ll ask 65536 if it has a good Sharp Biscuit quote for the situation. It always seems to think of something.”

“What a coincidence! I’m supposed to be looking for the drone myself,” 99 smirks.

“It and that green warrior said they were going to order a massage. Now off you go.”

“In due time. See? I got information out of you and I didn’t even need to hypnotize or bite you. Nature defeated,” she walks hops off of the bench, circling around Smiley, “You missed a good chunk of stripes here in the back.”

“And what would you have done if you first saw me rubbing chalk on a face down plot up changeling, hmm?” Blueblood facehoofs.

“Good point. Smiley, more goop!” she orders.

*Puzzled face?*

“I’ll help the ex-Prince finish your fresh coat of paint in a way that doesn’t label him a molester even further.”

*Puzzled face…* *Happy face?* *HAPPY FACE!*

When the Silent, now grinning in disbelief that a high rank is getting involved in a non-kicky manner, hucks out and rolls another stick, she adds, “I’ll do the back, you keep going with the front.”

“387, can you hear me?” asks 99.

“I’m a bit busy here, but yeah,” he replies instantly.

“How long until you’re done with the massage? I need to talk to 65536.”

“Give or take an hour. Want me to send it your way afterwards?” he doesn’t bother asking how she knows where they are.

“No, I’ll find it on my own. Enjoy yourself, you deserve it.”

“Uhh, thank… you?”

She disconnects.

Author's Note

As the most depressing time of the year sets in, time to write me some suicidal character. Where are the good old days when writing Blaze was natural, required no planning, and it just went on without caring much what anyone thinks... not really. Life is hard when you're supid.

Day 7 - Drones? What drones?: 7/7

“Thank you for your patronage,” the griffon masseur waves at 387 as he’s wiping the oil off of everything, “Feel free to come again.”

“It’s been a pleasure,” 387 gives him a courteous bow, “I’ll see if time and the Queen allow.”

The masseuse taking care of 65536 meets up with them, carrying the drone lying limp on her back.

“You can stop being a noodle, 65536,” says 387, the corner of his mouth twitching up.

“Umm, that’s not a transformation, 387,” 65536’s foreleg twitches as it tries and fails to raise it to scratch its head, “I think my leggos want an early sleepy time.”

“Alright, I guess I’ll take it from here in that case, literally,” 387 chuckles, taking the drone onto his own back, “Thank you for being patient with it,” he nods to the masseuse.

“Thank youuuu!” moans 65536 softly, “I’m too wobbly to wave.”

“See you next time!” she walks over and pats its head.

They’re barely out of the door when 387 feels all his tension return with a vengeance. There, on a bench across the road from the massage parlor entrance, sits Blueblood wearing a more hounded expression than usual, the source of which must be 99 sitting on the other end of the bench and right now…

…throwing a frisbee to Smiley covered in white zebra stripes who tries to catch it with its mouth and fails. It bounces off of Smiley’s muzzle and drops on the flagstones where Smiley picks it up and returns it to 99.

“Don’t look at me, this was all her idea,” grumbles Blueblood.

“Now now, what did we practice?” 99 snickers, standing up.

“Why are you both here?” asks 387, “Trouble?”

“Not at all,” 99 remains smiling despite facing 387’s stern look, “Hey, 65536. How would you feel if I and the ex-prince right here joined you for your daily training?”

“What the holes are you playing at 99?!” hisses 387, leaning towards her face.

“A friend,” she boops him with her own muzzle, “You should try it too, sometimes.”

“Yaaaaaaaaay,” 65536 wobbles its legs hanging from 387’s back, “Everyone’s friends now,” it pauses while 387 back away from the infiltrator, “But I don’t think I’ll be moving any time soon.”

“Then how about you direct us?” offers 99. On the bench, Blueblood sighs and stands up, “To be exact, I meant me but since Blueblood didn’t object in time he’ll be joining us in addition to what he originally wanted from you.”

“Wanted is pulling some serious weight around here,” he says in a low, tired tone.

“That’s like what Mister Sharp did back at home sometimes!” 65536 raises its head, cheering up, “With the new Guard recruits!”

“By the way,” 99 beams, showing both fangs, “Do you have any saying from ‘Mister Sharp’ for ponies who’re really bad at something, and I mean aaaawful, but want to get better?”

“I do, actually!” 65536 nods, “Listen, maggots! Imagine you’re Princess Celestia standing in front of a continent-sized cake! Would she give up? No! She would devour the whole thing, one bite at a time! NO MATTER HOW LONG IT WOULD TAKE!”

99 jabs Blueblood’s side.

“Motivated now?”

“To take the quick way out? Sure,” Blueblood breathes out, “Just point me to the nearest cliff.”

“Imma wibble!” 65536 looks at him in a drone version of ‘threateningly’.

“For the view…”

387 looks over the absurdity unfolding in front of him one final time before shaking his head.

“You take 65536 then. I’ll see what fun I can have in this resort and then… and then… I think I'll pay Chrysalis a visit.”

***

It took 387 a forced visit to the various water slides, a shooting range -even though 387 was impressed to see the current state of griffon weaponry- and a trip to the city to attend a seasonal seafood cook-off to kill enough time for the sun to set and for the warrior to finally persuade himself that visiting Chrysalis would be an even remotely good idea.

And now, standing in front of the bungalow with yet another bottle he swiped from the still busy drones on the way here, he’s once again not sure of that.

She’s probably not even here. That hive link signature is just a decoy so that no one could track her. Holes, she’s probably somewhere else, surrounded by a harem of various species-

The door opens.

“Stop tap dancing on the damn wood and come in,” Chrysalis nods at him and walks back into the bungalow without waiting.

“99 isn’t here?”

“Last I heard from her, she was with Blueblood and 65536, trying not to die while performing something called a… bench press. Took her too damn long to realize that just being smart and tactical won’t save her ass.”

“The demotion?” asks 387, while Chrysalis opens the back door onto the veranda where there are two comfortable, weaved armchairs waiting, each on one side of a square table already holding two empty glasses and the bottle he brought in the morning. He adds his bottle to the original one and waits for Chrysalis to sit down first.

“Yes,” seeing the year on the new bottle, Chrysalis winces at the presumed price, but pours out of the more expensive one first anyway, “Sit down, or I might take you being on edge around me personally. We both know I can’t get into your head and-” she pauses as she sits down, “No, seriously, why are you so… what do you think I’ll do - suddenly start beating you with a chair or something?”

387 sighs but sits down.

“Some habits die hard. Especially ones that kept me alive for so long,” pausing to take a sip of his drink, he looks at the dark sea, “And I don’t want to get rid of something critical that I might need again.”

“Afraid I’ll go full Shroud again?”

“Yes,” he openly admits, “And if not you, then whoever comes after.”

“Who says you’ll outlive my glorious self?” Chrysalis smirks.

“The twelve Queens who came before you,” 387 smiles a smile bereft of any joy.

“I must give you that one,” Chrysalis looks into the darkness ahead lit only by the lamps on the roof of the veranda, “Tell me, what would make your life easier?”

“We can go through the list back in the hive. I’m sure there will be some small adjustments to make after drones tell everyone about what they saw in this place.”

“No, I meant you. Your life. I already don’t send you on missions, you don’t get guard duties in the upper tunnels, and your share of hive’s love is pretty much second only to myself. That clearly isn’t enough. Don’t take this as me trying to prove something to you, take it as… me recognizing that you’re more useful to me alive and, more importantly, thriving.”

“I don’t think you understand, Chrysalis-”

“That’s why I’m asking, dipshit. Answer directly,” a hint of annoyance creeps into the Queen’s tone, which she hides by taking another sip.

“Directly? Alright then,” 387 finishes his own glass and gives Chrysalis a brief, surprised look when she pours another for him and refills her own, “Four years is far too little time for me to evaluate who you are trying to be after seven hundred of who you were and another eight hundred of who the combined mental mass of your teachers were,” he says, expecting a biting remark at least.

However, Chrysalis remains silent for quite some time before asking quietly and slowly:

“So, what is the hive going to be then? Me representing the hive to the outside, barely stopping warriors and infiltrators from fighting for power while protecting the drones, and doing all that with you staring daggers at me from the back, looking for a weak moment to organize a rebellion the second I can’t juggle all that while smiling and speaking softly?”

“I am not trying to organize a rebellion.”

“Right now? Sure. You’re no threat and neither are the drones. But give it ten years, let’s say, where drones learn strategy, tactics, and combat digging. At first under the guise of protecting themselves from monsters, and next when they decide that the stories the old ones tell them can’t be allowed to happen again. Now they’re learning that their resin can be used to extinguish fires. How long, in case of bad times and me having to lower love rations, before a patrol steps on a goo mine?” this silence lasts even longer than before until Chrysalis adds, “Thinking about it, aren’t you?”

“Yes, and I’m having trouble not laughing,” 387 sighs, “Chrysalis, you’ve spent too much time surrounded only by infiltrators and warriors too high on the totem pole that their thinking is indistinguishable from infiltrators. Too much time with other Queens’ voices screaming in your head. Was it too long to ever recover from it? Maybe. Hopefully not,” he pulls his armchair closer to the railing and puts his head on it, fighting every instinct telling him he’s putting his head under a guillotine, “You asked me what would make my life easier. Do me a favor then, will you? It will make your life much easier too.”

“Hmm?”

“Spend some time in the tunnels, regularly. Transform into a fresh drone or something-”

“I can’t dig, moron. At least not without wasting an exorbitant amount of love.”

“They don’t just dig. Join a drone or two, carry some eggs, play a game with them, trade a ‘particularly bendy stick’ for a chunk of iron ore, and trade that for an uncut diamond afterwards,” 387 looks at her with a bitter smirk, “You’ll quickly learn that your worries regarding them are just in your head. Mine regarding you aren’t.”

“Hmph!” Chrysalis huffs but doesn’t say anything. She just eases into the armchair, puts her hind legs on the railing, and starts looking directly up at the starry sky.

387 decides to change a topic as it doesn’t seem like Chrysalis is about to continue in this one.

“Care to tell me more about 99’s demotion?”

“Mission failure. She was supposed to develop both her mental and physical capabilities, and she entirely failed in the latter despite us being halfway through our little… vacation.”

“Hmm…” 387 frowns, “So because she didn’t succeed in-”

“Because she didn’t try,” Chrysalis cuts him off.

“Oh.”

“She has responsibilities critical to the hive, and one of those is attempting growth. This is not just a fun trip. Drones are supposed to learn, and so is she. I was really hoping you’d give it a shot as well, but at this point I’m feeling a bit silly. You know, old dogs and new tricks.”

387 decidedly ignores the jab at him.

“How could a rank 93- well, rank 99 infiltrator even grow here? What challenge could this place even pose?”

“So you haven’t figured her out?” Chrysalis smiles, “I guess I’ll keep that one to myself then. It’s more fun that way.”

“See? This is why-”

“You can’t trust me?” Chrysalis stands up, walks over to 387, grows a set of claws on her foreleg with which she grabs his chin, makes him look at her, and scowls, “387, I will not be notifying you whenever I wipe my ass. Is that clear? If that is your bar for trusting me then say so and we’re done.”

The warrior doesn’t back down, though.

“If you want her to grow her skills enough to easily mind control griffon or pony royalty, then we are done!” he hisses, “And the next thing on my list will be setting up yet another way to get willing changelings into safety before we’re at another pointless war. Last one left less than a thousandth of us alive.”

Chrysalis’ grip tightens as she takes a deep breath, but she releases him while slowly breathing out and returning into her armchair.

“I guess I’m not the only one whose mind has been twisted beyond repair by the old Queens, am I?” she says bitterly, “They did a number on you even without direct influence.”

387 stares at her, realizing that she’s saying a very similar version of what his empathic memory of Wistful told him earlier today.

“Then tell me, Chrysalis. If we assume we learned from everything that happened, if the only important thing isn’t what dug the hole in which we find ourselves in, and if we somehow pretend we have a chance for a fresh start… what do we do now?”

She smiles and for a reason 387 doesn’t understand his empathic senses catch a wave of deep sadness from her despite her hive link remaining decidedly stoic.

“I guess we’ll heed the wise words of Sharp Biscuit and start eating that continent-sized cake.”

It takes 387 a second before he bursts out laughing.

“You heard that?”

“I felt 99’s reaction so I tapped into her to check what’s going on.”

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!*

They both look through the glass door of the veranda and through the living room and see golden shimmer coming through the crack under the door and through the bead curtains of the windows.

“I’ll go check it out,” says the warrior. Something about the forceful knock, however, makes Chrysalis follow him.

The door opens, revealing Glorious Quest accompanied by three security members, numerous armed griffon resort guards, and finally Sun Hammer, Bright Star, and Ten, all three paladins in full gear. An official-looking griffon steps through the wall of armed creatures, announcing out loud:

“Queen Chrysalis, you and your delegation stand accused of attempted assassination of countless members of Equestrian and Imperial nobility.”

Chrysalis just rolls her eyes.

“What, again?”

Author's Note

I've been mega sicks since Saturday and this is my last buffer chapter, so no promises on the next one coming on schedule.

Day 8 - Smiley's hole: 1/7

*Boing!* *Boing!* *Boing!* *Boing!*

Smiley has discovered the trampoline.

*Boing!* *Boing!* *Boing!* *Boing!*

“Twenty-seven,” counts 65536, “Come oooon, I know you can do thirty. If you do, I’ll give you a super hug,” it sweetens the deal.

The drone is lying prone on a padded bench inside a gym that’s empty this late with the exception of it, Blueblood, and 99. The prince is lying on the floor in a pool of his sweat while 99, roughly a pony length away from him, is currently trying to push herself up on legs wobbling with exhaustion and failing.

It would be so easy if she was allowed love enhancements, but both she and 65536 know that would entirely defeat the point of the exercise.

“I… can’t…!” she hisses through gritted teeth and falls to the floor as her legs finally buckle under her, “Crap.”

“Normal hug only it is, then!” 65536 slides from the bench and limps over to her, lowering itself down next to her and briefly nuzzling her neck, “You too, BB.”

“Hmpmhh…” moans the barely conscious white unicorn pile when two small legs wrap around its neck.

*Boing!* *Boing!* *Boing!* *CRASH!*

The loud crack of chitin against the stone floor makes the two look up, only to see a black blur accompanied by rapid clip clop of hooves before the sudden hug pile gains a third member.

Seeing Smiley land on Blueblood and 65536, 99 breathes out a sigh of relief. In her current state, she’s not sure if she could withstand the momentum without something getting crushed.

A moment later, Smiley is pushed off by 65536 standing up and trotting off to a door in the back of the gym.

“Guys, I’ll grab the mop and you try to shuffle over to the showers. I’ll be there soon. Smiley, you’ll help me,” the drone calls out, making Smiley stand up too, grab its writing slate from the bench, and trot over. 65536 hangs a bucket on the top of Smiley’s head, grabs the mop, and the two return to the area of their final exercise.

As 65536 gets to mopping the floor, Smiley watches it for a while before writing a message on the slate and poking 65536 with it.

“Up arrow, down arrow, repeated three times, 99, BB, question mark,” 65536 mutters to itself as it’s reading, “Why did I have them do the pushups- uhh, the up-downs?” it looks at Smiley who smiles back and nods, “Because they’re one of the healthiest exercises ever. They make you stronger all over, they warm you up, they make you breathe properly, and after the first few neither of them had anything else on their mind than going up and down without passing out. They’re overall great.”

Smiley scratches its head and then experimentally does a few pushups.

“Yup, you should regularly do some too,” 65536 finishes the quick mopping, “Being stronger will make you use up less love when running from the baddies back home. But you did a good job on the trampoline too. It helps to make your hoofsies stable when you need to jump or run.”

Smiley processes the message with a happy smile as they join Blueblood and 99 sitting in the same shower, the prince staring at her with a disbelieving expression and the infiltrator washing her carapace, seemingly unbothered. Seeing that, Smiley immediately rushes into the stall too.

“Neat, a sitting hug pile!” 65536 heads in too.

“What is this and why is it happening?!” croaks Blueblood, squeezing himself into the corner to avoid any potentially misconstrueable contact.

“Hmm?” 99 turns her head, “Anything wrong?”

“Why are we all in one stall? This is one of the richest resorts in both Equestria and the Empire, so why are we sharing one shower?”

The changeling exchange looks.

“Avoiding wasting resources is ingrained pretty deep in us,” replies 99 and 65536 nods. Smiley blows some bubbles out of its soapy leg hole, “And I’m not particularly versed in pony customs.”

“Quick lesson - showering together is intimate as hay and a massive taboo otherwise!” explains Blueblood quickly, “How does a member of a species whose job is infiltrating our society or the present GUARD not know that?”

“Umm, Nightguards normally shower together,” 65536 tilts its head, “And Luna likes to take a bath with me.”

“You’re like her foal. That doesn’t count,” Blueblood rolls his eyes.

“Oh, are you worried this might turn into a sexual encounter?” asks 99.

“No, I don’t have any money or status for that anymore,” replies Blueblood, “I’m worried someone might see me showering with two changeling equivalents of foals and a mare I previously had no contact with. My aunt doesn’t need to deal with accusations of pedophilia on top of everything else, and at this point no one will believe they’re not true no matter what any of us says.”

“Alright, let’s split it up,” 99 stands up and grabs Smiley.

Blueblood gives her a surprised look.

“What?” she notices.

“Just like that?”

“You’re making a lot of sense, and you have knowledge that I don’t,” 99 shrugs, “It’s a perfectly viable request in my mind.”

“See?” 65536 grins at Blueblood, “You can do good work if you try.”

“Hrmph…” the ex-prince resumes soaping himself, “I just wanted some space.”

“Suuuuure,” 65536’s grin grows even wider before it trots off to a free stall.

“99, get the holes over here right now! Grab 65536 too.”

Chrysalis’ sudden mental call is so strong that even 65536 overhears it. It and 99 shoot out of their respective stalls, exchanging puzzled looks.

“We gotta go! BB, please clean up after us!” 65536 recovers first, foam and water still streaming from it as it puts on its saddlebag.

“What’s going on?” asks Blueblood, visibly confused but the sudden rush without any trigger he can see.

“Trouble!” 99 quickly limps after the guard drone, “Take care of Smiley! Smiley, stay with Blueblood!”

With a slam of a door they’re both gone.

Blueblood leaves his stall and finds…

…Smiley cowering in the corner of its own, curled up into a ball and hiding its muzzle in its hooves.

“What the hay spooked all of them so much?” after watching Smiley for several more seconds, he mutters to himself, “Nevermind that, private BB, you’re not paid to think. Things go wrong when you think. You have your orders.”

***

Rushing as quickly as their exhausted and battered bodies allow them, 99 and 65536 reach the water bungalows and spot the armed squad of griffon resort guards, the trio of paladins, Quest Security members, all surrounding Chrysalis and 387.

“What’s going on here?” asks 65536, frowning.

A trio of griffons fan out in front of it and point their spears at the drone.

“I would advise you to very carefully rethink what you just did,” says Sun Hammer, loud just enough for everyone to hear.

“It’s another one of them, we can’t-” the apparent griffon leader gets cut off almost immediately by the Paladin Acting Grandmaster.

“You have just pointed your weapons at a member of the Equestrian Nightguard. According to the United Establishments treaty C298, article 6, civil service ranks of both countries apply on this island during problem resolutions while nobility ranks don’t.”

“So?” the griffon puffs out his chest.

“That means that unless the Acting Grandmaster or Bright Star want to take over, 65536 outranks everyone here, dipshits,” growls Ten, nodding to 65536 staring down the trio of griffons, “So shove those spears up your asses.”

“I will not listen to a bug, especially in a situation like this!” snarls the griffon back at him.

“I’m afraid that the paladin assessment is correct,” Glorious Quest chimes in, “No matter-”

“Or to a glorified pavement pounder!” the griffon cuts him off.

“Do you mind at least telling us what’s going on?” peeps 65536, attempting to walk past the griffons towards the main group and stopping only when the three spears touch its chest.

The sun suddenly darkens as if heralding an incoming eclipse. Nearly everyone involved looks up and spots nothing, even though light seems to be seeping out of the world, until they somehow sense a gentle flow of reality leading towards Sun Hammer’s horn which is now outlined with an eclipse-like black, yellow-rimmed light.

In the next instant, the three armed griffons hiss in pain and back off as their spears evaporate into clouds of steam and ash in their grasp.

Everything returns to normal with everyone now staring at Sun Hammer.

“Let’s start again and stick to the law, shall we?” she rumbles, staring eye to eye at the leading griffon, “The Nightguard asked what’s going on, I shall answer, and you shall be quiet.”

The griffon finally cracks under her glare, gulps, and nods.

“Excellent,” Sun Hammer turns towards 65536, “We have spent the entire day performing magical examinations of the sunken cruise ship and discovered that it is unlikely to have been an accident. The edges of the breach were bent outwards, hinting that the breaking force came from the inside.”

“Hey, that’s what 10013 said!” 65536 blinks, “It said that the lightning strike came too late and that it looked like something exploded from the inside,” when everyone looks at it, it adds, “10013 was resting high up on the observation platform. We don’t really mind rain like you ponies do. After we landed on the beach, it asked me how lightning and thunder worked because what the official story said didn’t seem to match up.”

Sun Hammer nods, looking sideways at Quest who shrugs.

“I went with my available information at the time and, even if I suspected sabotage, I wouldn’t have publicly said it to worry the guests.”

“Understandable,” Sun Hammer nods and continues, “So, we found the wreck surprisingly close to the island and spent the day using whatever detection magic we could to examine it. Now for the part that made our griffon companion here so… reckless - the breach connected several areas heavily connected to the hive delegation. On the nobility deck it was the hive delegation’s hoofmaiden cabin hosting 387 and 93-”

“99 now, sudden demotion, go on,” interrupts 99 briefly. Sun Hammer continues as if nothing happened.

“-or 99. On the servant deck, the crack went through a storage room in which we detected a faint changeling presence-”

“Let me stop you right there,” 387 shakes his head, “I spent the entirety of my time on the ship scouting out the place in case of trouble, because I know how everyone sees us changelings. On top of that, the drones were running around all over the place. If your proof is ‘faint changeling presence at random places’ you won’t get anywhere.”

Sun Hammer just nods and continues.

“On the service deck, the crack coincided with a dumbwaiter leading from a kitchen to the top deck where two of your drones were confirmed to be working,” she pauses, “Nothing this time?”

“Those were 20100 and 36658,” says 65536, “As far as I know, the Queen gave them an option to gain points by being helpful to improve changeling image which they could use to redeem favors from high ranks.”

“Favors such as a love refill or a little bit of time off, or maybe money to buy a treat,” explains 387.

Heh, ‘them’. It doesn’t want to be associated with the hive to avoid not being seen as an impartial judge. After our sparring today, I really shouldn’t be surprised by 65536’s intelligence anymore.

“I see,” Sun Hammer glances at Chrysalis who looks more tired than anything else, “I’m coming to the main problem, however, which is the presence of three changelings in the maintenance tunnels, two of those, as you can probably guess by now, near the bottom of the breach.”

“I received an incident report regarding a changeling by the name ‘Smiley’ being stuck behind a maintenance door and another changeling 10013 seeking out a security guard to let them out,” says Glorious Quest, “According to the explanations the changelings gave, the door was open when said Smiley wandered inside. That should explain one presence, and I can attest that we resolved said security incident and the responsible security member was found. I know nothing about the detected presence of another two changelings.”

“One of those must have been me,” admits 387, immediately facing the glares of everyone. Aside from the griffons and Chrysalis, everyone seems genuinely surprised, either by him being there or by him admitting it like this.

“Must have?” asks Sun Hammer.

“I think I was following someone, but the last thing I remember is going down the stairs near my cabin, and next I woke up stuffed behind some pipes in the maintenance tunnels. I heard someone coming, so I transformed and escaped through an air vent. I can’t recall anything else and, believe me, I tried. I have no idea who would be able to do something like that to me,” 387 frowns.

“And we are supposed to believe that?!” huffs the griffon leader.

“Whether you believe it or not, we have a statement from those presumably involved. Our job, for the foreseeable future, will be questioning everyone,” Sun Hammer shrugs, “Legally, the one leading this effort should be 65536-”

“Ask a criminal to investigate themselves-” grumbles the griffon.

“-but I would ask for permission to be in charge.”

“Yes, sure-” 65536 nods with visible relief, “Umm, granted, Acting Grandmaster.”

“How can we know that you’re not compromised because of it?!” the griffon points at Ten.

“Ten has both the alibi as well as the reputation. If you wish to accuse a paladin, I’d like to refer you to article 13 of-”

“You know A PALADIN is not what I meant!” hisses the griffon, “It’s a bug. Their Queen could be mind controlling him as we speak.”

“Umm, I don’t think so,” peeps 65536 before anyone else says anything, “I have a protective spell cast on me by Princess Luna which the Queen tried to get through on the ship and it didn’t go well for her. I have no doubt Ten’s situation is similar,” 65536 looks at Chrysalis, and she senses a faint mental message.

“Could you please confirm that, Your Majesty? I know it’ll make you seem weaker but it would really help everyone right now… I think.”

“Hmph,” Chrysalis scowls, “Yes, I almost drowned because I was incapacitated due to the mentioned… attempt, and no damn security guard even tried to get into my cabin. Besides, you creatures can't find the ones I actually do, and keep accusing me of the ones I don't. Do I need to be sloppier to get proper recognition?”

387 facehoofs.

“I confirm that Ten is under magical protection specifically tailored against changeling mental interference,” says Sun Hammer in an attempt to avoid Quest and Chrysalis derailing the conversation, “We will go through the facts during our investigation. For now, however, we should make sure there’s no future tampering with witnesses.”

“There is a small but secure prison in the resort. There occasionally is someone stupid enough to attempt an assassination,” the griffon smirks at Chrysalis, “It would be bit of a squeeze, but I think we can shove all the changelings in there.”

“No,” Chrysalis immediately replies in a tone which sends chills down everyone’s spine. Even Sun Hammer narrows her eyes at her.

“Chrysalis, please, don’t make this about your ego now-”

“Shut up, 387. You’re getting on my nerves.”

Chrysalis returns Sun Hammer’s glare, takes a long breath, and growls:

“Put me wherever you want but don’t touch my drones.”

387’s jaw drops.

99’s blinks repeatedly.

Ten’s looks at Chrysalis with open suspicion.

65536 beams from ear to ear.

“Don’t you dare set conditions-” the griffon snarls at her.

“Changelings who are not associated with the hive,” Sun Hammer raises her voice, “How do you rate the potential threat here?”

“Umm, do I count?” asks 65536.

“Yes,” she nods, “but let Ten start, please.”

65536 looks at the changeling paladin-in-training who ignores it.

“I know better than most that Chrysalis is a dangerous manipulator who cares little for anyone other than herself. I only have two things in regard to everyone’s safety.. Number one - if you decide to put Chrysalis under lock and key, you need to lock 387 and 99 as well. If they are out and about then there’s no difference between Chrysalis stuck in a block of concrete or without any chains at all. Mind control is a bitch,” he pauses briefly, “And number two, there is no reason to lock up the drones. They have no power, nor the ability to effectively fulfill anything complex Chrysalis might need.”

“Not like she can just mind control them too and have them shapeshift into-”

“No, she can’t. That is why I specified my first point, you speciesist birdbrain,” Ten slowly fries the griffon leader with a ‘look’, “Drones are drones. Even if she took control of one, she can’t make it do anything beyond the capacity of their body. Transform into something big? They’d burn out and collapse. Try to use infiltrator skills? Burn out and collapse. Attack someone? They would still be fighting off a drone without that much love. An untrained civilian can defend themselves long enough for any help to come. If she wants the drones to avoid all this mess and simply enjoy a resort stay full of fun, I see no reason to deny her other than sadism.”

“65536?” Sun Hammer asks over the visibly seething griffon.

“Ten said everything that needed saying,” 65536 shrugs, “Although I would prefer not sticking Queen Chrysalis into prison either. Miss Sun Hammer, do you have some of those anti-shapeshifting supposit- suppressors they use in Canterlot? That way, all three high ranks could move around and our griffon friends could stop worrying.”

“Yes, we brought several,” Sun Hammer’s horn flashes, and three brass rings materialize in front of her, “For contingencies. With these, we will be able to track you, you won’t be able to shapeshift, and if you move too far from the location I set up they will paralyze you. Just your motor function, nothing lethal.”

“Give it here,” 99 steps up first, raising a hoof.

“I guess we’re doing this again,” 387 rolls his eyes, doing the same.

“If I accidentally swim too far into the sea, at least send some steamy lifeguard to come get me,” Chrysalis does the same.

Moments later, they’re outfitted with a ring locked in a leg hole each. Afterwards, Sun Hammer informs them:

“I will find a location where I can affix the spell so that you can move around the entirety of the resort. The rest of the island will be off limits, however. That way, the griffons should be at ease regarding the risk to the island population and you won’t be too inconvenienced in case all this suspicion proves to be unwarranted.”

“Meh, I’ve been in the city once already and I don’t need to see some tribal jungle hicks in person,” Chrysalis says in a distinctly unimpressed tone, “But if I even hear about a griffon giving one of my drones a skewed look I will find a way to make them pay and no chain will hold me. 65536, keep these overgrown chickens away from them, will you?”

“I believe the griffons got the message, but I’ll tell the others to inform me or anyone else if there’s trouble.”

To everyone’s surprise, one more time this evening, Ten speaks up:

“Call me if you need to, but only if there is literally no one else to ask. Got it? 1313 comes before me, any friend you may have made so far comes before me. I’m your last resort.”

“I’ll tell the others,” 65536 nods.

“Then I believe we’re done here,” Sun Hammer ends the conversation with a look at the griffon leader who huffs but salutes. To her, of course, not to 65536 or Ten, “We’ll begin conducting interrogations tomorrow. Goodnight, everyone, and I regret it had to come to this.”

“Thank you for your cooperation,” Glorious Quest and his ponies leave.

“Thank you, Miss Sunny,” 65536 smiles at her, “Law or not, this wouldn’t have worked without you here.”

“Speak softly and carry a big stick,” she bows to 65536, “Ten, Bright Star, come with me to help me set up the fixation spell.”

“Goodnight, Your Majesty, everyone,” 65536 sighs, “Sorry things are suddenly kinda bad.”

99 and 387 look at Chrysalis.

“Goodnight, 65536,” she says, “99, why don’t you come sit down with 387 and me? We have one unopened bottle left and apparently a lot to talk about.”

Author's Note

I managed to do something over the weekend! But damn, the week of brain fog flew by crazy fast. I can barely remember doing more than waking up, sitting in front of a computer, and making tea on repeat. I couldn't even play anything until Friday.

Day 8 - Smiley's hole: 2/7

65536 enters the apartment where it and Blueblood reside. Technically, either of them can use the water bungalow for the royal guests, but Blueblood was against using the ‘more comfortable option’ for himself when they were introduced to this place and, after what just happened, 65536 decided that being closer to the drones would be a good idea.

The drone lets out a sigh of relief when it finds Blueblood lying on the floor, alive and well, next to Smiley who is occupied with its drawing tablet. One wide motion of Smiley’s foreleg later, Blueblood sighs:

“Let’s not attempt cursive. Your best bet is to be as clear as possible. Short and snappy.”

Whether Smiley understands any of what he said is a mystery, but it starts wiping its slate nonetheless. Hearing the door close, Blueblood sits up and asks 65536:

“What was all that about?”

65536 walks past, sits down on the bed, and in a heavy voice recapitulates the entire past half an hour to Blueblood. Strangely enough, while Smiley stops playing with its tablet and listens as well, it doesn’t seem worried nor does its hive link generate the expected sequence of puzzled or worried faces, leading 65536 to think that the situation might be too complex for the Silent. Holes, it’s too complex for 65536 and it’s been working as a guard for multiple years now.

“So, what do you think?” 65536 finishes its recap.

“Why are you asking me? I was just curious why you rushed out of the showers. You should know better what goes through your Queen’s head. Last time I was even in the same city as her it was Shining Armor’s cock.”

“BB, please,” 65536 hops off of the bed and nudges the sitting ex-Prince with its head, “I know we didn’t do it, but who could? You know diplomatics!”

“Diplomacy.”

“That, yes.”

Faced with the pleading stare of the drone, Blueblood rolls his eyes, closes them, slowly breathes in and out, and puts his mind to good use for once - namely to run through his knowledge of court politics.

“The way I see it is that there are three ways to look at this,” says Blueblood after a while, “The less likely one, especially if you are so sure that none of the drones blamed for being the extensions of Chrysalis’ will actually did make and plant whatever bombs they’re imagining blew up the ship, is that Chrysalis would know she would be the first suspect in case of any mishap and would use it to say - you’re just blaming me because I’m a changeling and you don’t like us. The second possibility is that somepony else thought exactly the same and tries to get away with a mass assassination attempt, knowing that you changelings will be forced to take the fall. Option number three is that it really was a weird magical accident. Near-impossible but worth mentioning.”

“And what do you think?”

“Number two, definitely. As in the hive changelings being in deep shit, especially this close to the Griffon Empire.”

“But this island doesn’t belong to anyone, right? Miss Sun Hammer specifically said that.”

“Proximity is nine tenths of the law, 65536. If the griffons can get military presence to this island in one tenth of the time it would take Equestria it means their law applies. And griffons in general don’t like changelings, in case you missed that tiny detail. You can simply disappear and they can make up a viable cover story in the time it takes for the first investigator from Equestria to arrive,” Blueblood pauses, “Well, probably not you specifically, because Luna would literally drop the moon on the Empire and end all life on Equus if that happened, but you know what I mean. I hope.”

65536 sighs and plops its butt on the carpet right next to Blueblood.

“I’m a guard. I should be able to help them, find the bad guy, and clear their name, and I have no clue where to even begin.”

Blueblood shakes his head.

“You’re thinking about this in terms of petty crime. This is politics, the biggest crime of all, and it operates on completely different principles. Getting involved, even with the best intentions, can end up making things much worse.”

65536 lowers its head with another sigh.

“Are you saying I shouldn’t do anything?”

“I’m saying that there is way too much you’d have to learn before you could even begin applying your simplistic idea of ‘finding the bad guys and clearing the changeling name’. Right now, if I were the hive changelings, I’d either stay put in one place or maybe even visible in public so that I have an alibi for every minute of the day, do that until this trip is over, and don’t give anyone any reason to even think I’m doing something shady.”

65536 pouts at the floor, but something in Blueblood’s voice is telling the drone that this isn’t just ex-Prince’s lack of hope talking again.

The thoughtful silence only grows when Smiley’s constant scribbling stops. The Silent looks at Blueblood, tilts its head as far as it can in an attempt to see him upside-down, and finally shuffles over to 65536, rubbing its nose with its own.

“Smiley? Whatcha doing?” 65536 can’t help smirking at the bent Silent.

“Pretending it has my aunt’s neck,” comments Blueblood.

Presumably dissatisfied with its effort, whatever it was, Smiley straightens up, shakes its head to make the sudden weird sparks in its eyes go away, and grabs its slate again. After a moment, it scribbles-

[<- :)]

-and pokes 65536 with it.

“What?” the drone blinks in surprise.

“Clearly, Smiley is learning magic and this is a cheer up spell,” Blueblood crosses his forelegs on his chest, visibly amused… which is something 65536 hasn’t seen since being asked to go on this trip, “Smiley, cast punch- OW!”

Even he can’t be annoyed with the Silent grinning from ear to ear who rubs its face against his chest like a cat after quite gently jabbing him, so Blueblood just massages his ribs.

“Only if you cheer up too, I guess,” 65536 smiles back.

Smiley scribbles on its slate again, and this time the message simply reads [?-_-].

65536 rubs its head, making Blueblood lean closer and say:

“I have absolutely no idea what this means.”

“Hmmm… sleepy time?” 65536 takes a guess. Smiley nods and yawns, “Ohhhh! Sure, you can go back to the other drones. It’s pretty early, but we just wanted to keep you around until we knew nothing bad was going on. Good night, Smiley.”

Smiley gives it a hug and doesn’t leave even Blueblood out, and finally trots out of the suite.

Several minutes later, it enters the hive delegation’s suite which had been thoroughly cleaned up at some point. There are only a bunch of cardboard boxes of various sizes in the living room, some overturned with a hive link one or two coming from the spot signalling someone is under the box. Most open ones are filled with Scufflestick tinies, and the only openly visible drone is 99380 sleeping in an armchair next to the table with a quietly chatting radio. It’s still two hours before normal sleepy time but if the others are okay then no one will likely be mad at it if it goes to sleep too. Plus, 65536 didn’t mind, and 65536 is a great number who knows a lot of important stuff.

Some examination of the cardboard boxes later, Smiley concludes that these portable holes are perfect for sleeping in, hops into one, curls up, and quickly falls asleep.

***

To its own surprise, 10013 wakes up refreshed and much earlier than usual.

It’s still dark outside. How long was I-? Huh, even shorter than the sleepy times during the old days. I’m feeling great, though.

The drone stretches- or attempts to and accidentally throws the overturned cardboard box off of itself, having entirely forgotten falling asleep under it.

Okay, still dark anyway.

10013 stretches this time for real, once again noting how different the new carapace feels.

Perhaps I should try doing the yoghurt thingy with Miss Cadance again?

Judging by the amount of glowing eyes and the activity of hive links around, the falling box woke up only the veterans used to going from zero to full alert at any noise in the vicinity. 99526’s link is barely present, the drone sleeping off its exhaustion from throwing up for a full day. 99111, buried under a pile of flat pieces of cardboard, seemingly tried to build something out of the boxes earlier and failed miserably. 99380 just mumbles incoherently and resumes drooling on the armchair.

“Heya, guys!” 10013 greets the awoken drones peeking out from their respective boxes.

*Happy, yawning face.*

“Hi!” 20100 waves at it.

“Good morning! Whoa, not morning, actually…” comments 36658, rubbing its eyes.

“Sorry for waking you up with all that noise,” 10013 rubs its head.

“It’s fine. I’m a bit dizzy, but it feels like my leggos want to get moving,” 20100 examines its situation and stretches.

“We spent the whole day just lying around, messing with goop figurines, and doing head and thinking stuff,” 36658 hops out of its box, lies down, and stretches all four legs at once, “I don’t think we’re built for that and our leggos want a turn too.”

*Scribble scribble scribble!*

*Eager face!*

Smiley holds up its slate showing [o].

“The letter o?”

“Zero?”

“A circle? Maybe a blank face?”

As the trio hazard their guesses, Smiley thinks for a moment before a small correction: [O]

“The big letter O?”

“Open mouth!”

“A hole?”

*HAPPY FACE!*

Smiley nods and beams at 36658, the winner of the guessing game.

“You know, that’s not a bad game,” says 10013, “We could call it the draw-guess game and show the guys back home.”

“True,” 20100 shoots Smiley an excited glance, “Wanna get some practice in? I can draw a whole bunch of things.”

Smiley shakes its head.

“Alrighty, maybe later,” 20100 shrugs.

Smiley decides to rethink its strategy and scribbles [->O].

“We go to the hole?”

“You wanna show us a hole?”

“We point into the hole!”

Smiley rubs its head briefly before a slow nod. Some of that sounded… right.

“Since it’s too early to do anything else, let’s go explore Smiley’s hole!” 10013 makes the executive decision.

Leaving its box, the Silent trots over to the balcony door, cracks it open just enough to leave the room and, followed by the veteran trio, flies into the air where it remains hanging until 36658 closes the glass door behind itself to prevent the outside noises from waking the other drones up. After that, the four drones take off to the north, nearly invisible black dots set against the still dark sky.

***

The sky has brightened considerably despite the sun still not being visible by the time the four drones land by one of the many unremarkable ruins of walls scattered all over the volcano’s terrace which Smiley previously visited with Gem and 387. To be specific, it’s the ruin where a plaque identified a black rectangle on the ground as a “Grave of a city official”.

Smiley waves its slate in the air, hopping on the grave again, albeit this time much more carefully.

“A hole…” mumbles 10013, tapping its hoof on the soft soil next to the heavy, black stone. The faint tremors only a drone would sense spreading from the point of impact reveal to it that while the surrounding ground is just normal soft soil that most of the surface world known to 10013 seems to be made of, the black stone is covering an empty area leading deep down as far as the drone’s senses can reach, “Huh, there is a tunnel under that grave thingy.”

“It’s a weird material,” 36658 taps on the grave itself, “Not as hard as black-hard, but close. I haven’t seen anything like this anywhere else.”

“Guys, I don’t like the amount of shinies these scribbles are saying we’ll have to pay if we break anything,” 20100 rubs its head, reading the plaque with the potential fine, “Last time I got that many we nearly got thrown out of the casino.”

“I don’t think anything past direct digging would even scratch this thingy,” 10013 steps on the grave and begins examining the headstone, “See?” it stomps on the grave and leans down to examine the smooth, black surface. As it leans so close, its stubby ears twitch, “Can anyone else hear buzzing?”

*Beep!*

“Aah?!” with a jolt, 10013 steps backwards, staring at a newly opened, narrow, black slot at its eye height in the headstone. The only reason none of the drones are flying off in synchronized panic is that all this time everyone has been assuring them that they’re not in any danger and their own experiences confirmed that so far.

A green shimmer passes through the slot from left to right and then back, the glow scattering into a triangular shape to encompass 10013’s full stature.

“Language recognized-” states a disembodied and distorted voice seemingly coming from the headstone.

“Whosaidthat?!” 10013’s head snaps from side to side.

“Sounds like it’s coming from the upright triangle thingy,” 36658 walks over while 20100 instinctively turns away from the duo and scans the dim morning light for any signs of an ambush.

Smiley starts waving its slate covered in [?????????????], which is accompanied by a repeating chain of:

*Worried face!* *Spooked face!*

“-biometric data match. Welcome -bzzt-! State your rank,” the weird voice continues, clearly unbothered by the drones’ panic.

36658 jabs 10013’s side with a knee.

“Uhh, 10013?” replies the drone.

“Processing. Unable to establish database connection. Local profile data storage successful. Access denied -bzzt!- access to the outer facilities granted under emergency restoration protocol. Please, step away from the hatch,” the voice confuses the drones even further.

“You guys heard all of that too, right?” 10013 looks at 20100 and 36658 who both nod.

“Please, step away from the hatch,” repeats the voice.

“Anyone got any idea what it means by hatch? I can’t see any eggs anywhere,” with neither 99380 nor any high rank in reach, 10013’s knowledge suddenly feels unpleasantly limited.

I suppose we’ll be seeing a lot of unidentifiable “thingies”.

“Please, step away from the hatch.”

“Step away from where you are now, maybe?” says 36658, taking a step back itself and proving once again that sometimes even a drone can fight off blind panic and think clearly.

10013 hops off of the black stone and, as soon as it does, the stone somehow folds like fabric into the bottom of the probably-not-a-grave’s probably-not-a-headstone, revealing a tunnel seemingly made for someone slightly larger than a drone containing a narrow and steep staircase leading into complete darkness.

“Please, follow the -bzzt- lights,” says the voice. As the four drones look into the dark hole, something in the distance flashes, buzzes, and bursts into a shower of sparks before going dark again.

Safe in the knowledge that they can always dig themselves out, 10013 asks:

“Up for some adventure, guys?”

“This doesn’t look like one of the attractions. It definitely wasn’t on the map,” comments 36658 with hesitation.

“Maybe it’s a secret one!” says 20100.

“It’s not impossible,” admits 36658, “There is a lot of strange stuff around this island.”

“Smiley, what do you think? This was all your idea in the first place,” 10013 nods to the Silent.

Smiley waves its question mark filled tablet and starts climbing down the stairs. Come to think of it, the tunnel seems to be more suited to its size than that of normal drones.

After a final exchange of shrugs and glances, 10013, 20100, and 36658 follow Smiley into the darkness, and the strange black hatch unfolds after their passing, blocking their access to the surface.

Author's Note

Happy New Year.

Day 8 - Smiley's hole: 3/7

Smiley, 10013, 20100, 36658 descend in a single file through the dark tunnel.

Occasionally, they pass a working light embedded inside the wall in the form of a short, narrow, glass tube that buzzes in a way similar yet different to griffon light bulbs. The overwhelming majority of the tubes equidistant from each other and lining the entire tunnel, however, are either not working or downright visibly broken with glass shards littered around.

Overall, the drones’ trip down the dark staircase takes the better part of fifteen minutes, with the voice being silent despite them asking for it out loud several times, and eventually leaves them in front of a metallic barrier which they guess serves as a door. Next to it, comfortably within reach, sits a dark, glassy panel roughly three hooves tall and a hoof wide with a tiny red dot glowing in a bottom corner. On top of it, however, is something that 10013 finds actually familiar - a circle of tight, black mesh of some kind.

“This looks like the talky piece of 99380’s radio,” it comments, examining it up close, “Maybe this will let the voice speak to us again?” it calls out loud, “Hello! Mysterious voice?”

In response, the mesh circle buzzes, hisses, and crackles before a voice different from the previous one says:

“Excellent. You made it all the way here.”

“Hello, new voice,” 10013 gathers all its leadership and takes charge, “We talked to your buddy upstairs and it sent us here.”

“It is still me,” replies the voice, “The intercom I’m talking through right now offers a much higher vocal quality than the device outside.”

“Ummm,” 10013 rubs its head, “I’m sorry, voice. I kinda don’t know a bunch of words you’ve just used. We can go to the resort and ask the Queen or someone smart-”

“That won’t be necessary. I’ll adjust my speech pattern to match yours. You are using a version of common language similar to what the griffons on this island use. Besides, the fewer times anyone uses the emergency hatch, the better.”

“How come?”

“I will explain once we meet,” the voice pauses, “The camera above the door isn’t working. Is the door open?”

“There’s no door, just this smooth metal blocking our way,” says 20100 who has been poking and prodding the material while 36658 remains staring back into the tunnel they’ve descended through with pure paranoia.

“There must be a wiring problem,” says the voice.

“We can dig through,” says 10013, “But the Queen told us we’re not supposed to unless someone asks us and only if it’s super important.”

“That shouldn’t be necessary, and in the long run it could cause more harm than good,” replies the voice, “There should be a square plate in the wall to the right, near the ceiling. It will be difficult to find even with night vision-”

“Got it!” reports 20100 with a smile, face pretty much pressed against the wall.

“If you are certain, press up against the ceiling right above where you found it and the plate should slide aside-”

20100 does so and everything happens as the voice said, revealing some kind of a triangular handle.

“-to reveal an emergency unlocking mechanism. It’s a lever which can be pulled downwards.”

As 20100 keeps following the instructions, the metal sheet reveals to be a perfectly tightly fitting door made of three pieces, two sliding to left and right respectively and one behind them sliding upwards.

“It opened!” says 10013, “What now?”

“The speaker system of the facility itself seems mostly functional, so I will be able to talk to you all the way. Follow the lights.”

20100 peeks into the much wider but still pitch black tunnel into which they’ve just opened the door.

“No shinies to be seen, voice!” it calls out, its voice echoing through the darkness.

“Strange. The diagnostics system must be damaged in a way its redundancy modules can’t identify.”

“Well, if you can hear us and talk to us, then you can guide us, right?” asks 10013, “We can see a bit ahead just fine and we know left and right… unless changeling left and right are different from your left and right.”

“That will be sufficient,” agrees the voice, “However, move slowly and only where I guide you. Do not explore on your own. There are security devices on separate control loops which could take too long to override or cause damage to both you or the facility.”

“The words I understood were not good words,” comments 36658, gritting its teeth.

“As long as you follow my directions you will be safe,” says the voice.

Everyone looks at 10013. Oh, the joys of responsible leadership!

“Alright, guys. I go first,” decides the great leader, “36658, watch out back. 20100, keep an eye on Smiley so that it doesn’t run off-”

*Apologetic face.*

“-Sorry, Smiley. I know you mean well but sometimes you can get carried away. Try to focus.”

*Determined face!*

“Good job,” 10013 pats Smiley’s head and leans towards the ‘intercom’ thingy, “Voice, we’re ready.”

“Excellent. Enter through the door and head right.”

Taking a deep breath, 10013 leads the way.

They pass numerous branching corridors and walk along large glass panes set in the walls in a short span of time.

This place is packed. Not like home that’s full of splitting tunnels and dead ends, but room after room. Or cavern after cavern?

“Voice, are these rooms or caverns?” 10013 taps on the glass section of the left wall of the corridor.

“Rooms. Caverns are natural underground formations. Everything here was built ages ago,” replies the voice.

“Thank you,” answers 10013 politely. It never hurts to be polite.

A while later, their hoofsteps stop being the only noise in the otherwise silent hallways, as they’re joined by weird… humming?

Humming mixed with buzzing, swishing, and… slurping.

“...those are bad noises…” whispers 36658, “...very bad…”

It’s coming from the direction the voice is sending them in.

Smiley quickly scribbles a sharp, edged line on its tablet accompanied by a mental *worried face*.

“Have you stopped or are the microphones in this section damaged?” asks the voice, “I’m not hearing any hoofsteps nor detecting any obstruction in your way.”

The noises grow nearer, but even the drones’ perfect night vision can only reveal so much with their only light source being their bioluminescent eyes.

“...voice, something is coming our way…” whispers 10013, which doesn’t seem to be loud enough for the voice to hear.

“Ooookay, do we run now?” asks 36658 mentally.

“No, you three back off,” replies 10013.

“Are you crazy?” asks 36658 while Smiley and 20100 obey and start shuffling back.

“36658, for all of our existence we’ve been running away to live- no, to survive. We are here, on this island, to show the drones back home what more is out there. YOU know better than anyone how critical it is to show everyone that there’s more to life than digging and carrying. How do we become more if we flee the second something feels off? Yes, this might be dangerous but that’s why you back off right now and if anything bad happens, you run like all holes.”

“I’m not leaving you,” 36658 frowns and instead walks past 10013 directly towards the noise, “You back off. I’m the one who beat a sticky biter to death.”

And you are more valuable.

10013 has already been left behind, so it doesn’t argue with 36658 and shuffles back to join 20100 and Smiley. Their plan remains the same, after all, no matter who the scout is.

“Changelings? Talk to me! Is there a barrier I can’t detect?” asks the voice from multiple speakers around them as well as some from further down the hall and the corridor they came from.

Taking a deep breath, 36658 knows the whipping and sucking noise must be almost in its cone of vision, and it quickly swallows two agonyslayers it has saved in its leg hole. Not Miss Gem’s remaining stuff, but something basic that should help it shrug off the pain of a small wound while still being able to flee.

It can now identify that the mix of noises is coming from near the smooth floor, and only the tunnel echo is what’s making it seem as if even the walls and the ceiling were crawling with these humming, swishing, and slurping monsters..

36658 braces for what it’s about to see, ready to bolt at the first sign of teeth.

Oh, that’s what Smiley drew.

It comes.

36658 lowers its body, legs bent and primed.

Three discs, roughly two hooves high and small enough to fit between a drone’s four legs when standing each, slowly slide towards the drone. They’re spread out to cover the entire width of the tunnel, betraying that they possess some level of intelligence. The whipping noise seems to be coming from under them, specifically from some kind of a tentacle the tip of which 36658 can see in the front.

36658 shuffles closer to the wall, testing if they’re targeting it or if they’ll just move past. Two discs do so but 36658 has to step over the third one, misjudges its speed, and it softly bumps into its hind leg. 36658 jumps forward, rolls, and quickly gets back up.

“Did you all see that?” it asks, receiving two mental pings through its hive link as a response that 20100 and 10013 have been watching through its eyes.

“Those don’t seem like gribblers,” comments 10013, splitting from Smiley and 20100 and approaching, “But stay in the back just in case, you two.”

The drone leader lowers itself to the ground to examine the three discs now circling around where 36658’s leg got bumped into.

“Voice?” 10013 decides that they’re likely not in serious danger.

“Yes? Why did you stop communicating? Did anything happen?” replies the voice immediately.

“We got spooked by three moving discs that make noises we know from back home. Very bad noises. ‘A drone is about to get eaten’ kind of noises.”

“Discs? Let me run through staff and equipment specifications. The only result I’m finding is a cleaning unit. They are entirely automated, and have no offensive capabilities. They just sweep and wipe the floors.”

“Are you sure? They seemed kinda… angry when they bumped into 36658,” 10013 comments with hesitation, “They started swarming around the area.”

“They were readjusting their location,” explains the voice, “They detected a barrier which shouldn’t be in their path. They’ll just recalculate and continue.”

“Phew,” 10013 breathes out, “Alright, guys. I think we’re okay.”

After 10013’s confirmation, 20100 rushes over with Smiley in tow, and pokes the nearest slowly approaching disc. It briefly pauses before resuming its rolling along on two small wheels near its edge and some wide spinning thingy in the front.

“Other than the noise, they’re kinda neat,” 20100 beams, putting a hoof in front of the cleaning unit. It bumps into the leg once, twice, three times, before turning around and starting to circle around it, “Just like you used to be, Smiley,” it gets out of the way and boops Smiley.

Smiley puffs its cheeks before bumping into 20100 with its forehead, backing off, repeating it two more times, and finally sticking its tongue out at the other drone.

“Alright, guys, let’s keep going,” 10013 catches up with 36658 standing ahead and listening for anything else coming their way, “We can play with the cleaners once we listen to what the voice wants.”

“You are almost there,” replies the voice, “You will soon reach a loading corridor to the right which will be wider and sloping down. At its end will be a heavily reinforced door. Once you are there, touch the control panel next to it.”

The drones soon see exactly what the voice mentioned, and find themselves standing in a roughly three times wider tunnel, in front of the mentioned door set in a hefty frame which sends a clear message that either no one gets in or nothing gets out. 10013 puts its hoof on the panel next to it as instructed, and the door opens. It reveals a large, square room with somewhat functional lighting filled with mechanical debris, most of which seemingly originates from heavy, metal racks collapsed on the floor, on which there seem to be hanging… metal… ponies?

“Come in,” says the voice, “Feel free to look around but don’t touch anything that would seem to be buzzing or sparking without asking. The diagnostic systems say that there shouldn’t be any live areas but we’ve already established that there’s something wrong with those.”

The drones enter, relieved that the door doesn’t close behind them. They could dig themselves out and they wouldn’t get lost running back in case this has all been a ruse, but the veterans know full well that in case of trouble seconds are everything.

“What is this place, who are you, what are these ponies, and why did you want us to get here?” asks 36658 sharply, “It’s about time we got answers and if we don’t we’re leaving immediately.”

“I’ve gathered all the information I can share and I’ve run it through security protocols,” says the voice, “Question number one - this is a dwarf weapons research facility. During the great war and before the REDACTED project, this site was the base of experimentation with controlled volcanic flows and using the pressures and heat for material research. Core research of refining the void-spawned material we call istrium originated here, but in the final years this site was fully dedicated to forging the REDACT- bzzt- security protocols overridden under the Emergency Restoration Act and user authority A2,” the voice pauses.

“Are you okay, voice?” asks 10013, poking the nearest pony made of white-ish metal.

“My apologies. System warning seems to have bled into speech subroutines. As I said, in its final days, this site was dedicated to the construction of the Universal Wavelength Reforger, a device which could detect and alter any wavelength or-” the voice pauses, “You have no idea what I’m talking about, right?”

“Like… sea wobbling?” 20100 takes a guess.

“Ah…” the voice takes a moment to gather itself, “Extremely simplified, it could detect and transform any energy, from simple heat to the wavelengths in the ‘magical’ spectrum.”

“Waaaaaaait, does that mean love too?” asks 10013.

“Yes. Love, as in biological emanations in the magical spectrum caused by chemical reactions in the brain. The enemy in the great war were biological creatures whose unnatural evolution was caused by an extremely specific set of primal energies, and the Reforger was supposed to help overcome some of their abilities granted by said energies. With the war over, the Reforger must be… secured.”

“So these… dwarves won?”

“It is the only logical conclusion,” answers the voice after a brief pause, “Ponies, griffons, and changelings still exist in biological forms. Had we lost, that wouldn’t be the case.”

“Alright, so you made weapons here. Like stabbies, slashies, armors, all that stuff,” 20100 nods, now prodding a collapsed mechanical pony.

“We used different weapons, but your broad idea is correct. The robot you are currently engaged with is one of such weapons.”

Caught in the act of waving the robot’s leg in the air, 20100 lets go and innocently shuffles away.

“You said you couldn’t see us!” it objects.

“Two of the ceiling cameras are functional. I can see you just fine.”

“Then we would really like to see who we’re talking to!” 36658 has no clue what a camera is, but immediately starts scanning the ceiling for anything different.

“Question number two then - I am the Assistant Intelligence of this facility. My duty is to assist in day-to-day operations, orchestrate data mining and transfers, and- I’m the caretaker of this place now that there’s no ongoing research or staff. Your analog would be a partitioned off section of your hive mind dedicated to one specific use. That’s why I don’t have a physical body in a sense which you understand.”

“You seem to know a lot about changelings,” comments 10013.

“Changelings were the only species the dwarves mingled with on occasion. Your minds and certain genetic predispositions appearing in some individuals made them excellent scientists. Three such individuals worked in this facility during its lifetime, which is why the biometric recognition of the emergency access hatch responded to you. They lent us their talents for the assurance of safety from the rest of your kind and for the promise of not being research subjects.”

“387 sometimes said that he helped drones and any willing changelings escape the hive under the old rules. So three super smart drones made it here?” 10013 beams in excitement.

“I have no background on how they got here or their biological caste designations, but otherwise correct. Their specific talents were beyond explanation without deep research, but at the time we had much more pressing problems.”

“You called these pony things weapons,” says 20100, once again messing with the robotic pony’s chassis on the floor, “Are they dangerous?”

“Yes, but there are only several of the fifty stored here which are still functional, and they can’t be activated by manual handling… so feel free to keep doing what you’re doing,” a hint of force creeps into the voice, “Changeling, please stop poking the working ceiling camera. It’s delicate and I already told you I had no physical form for me to show you.”

36658 stops fiddling with a small, black dome set in the ceiling and floats back on the floor while asking:

“Let’s get to the final question then - why did you want us to come here? I understand you were walking about drones before, but the special talent of none of us is being super smart. Smart for a drone, maybe, but that’s more from our longer life, nothing special.”

“Gotta admit that,” 20100 shrugs, “I got my talents figured out and my smarts is around the decidedly average.”

Smiley smacks a collapsed robot with a slate covered in smiling faces in an attempt to make it feel better. When that fails, it gives the robot a hug.

“I’ve got my cooling foam goop,” 10013 nods, “Doesn’t seem like much, but it’s pretty helpful sometimes.”

“No, I’m not attempting to enlist you for research purposes. I need help and you were the first in ages I believe I can rely on with any kind of success rate,” replies the Assistant Intelligence, “The Universal Wavelength Reforger must be destr- destr- secured.”

“Aaaand this neatly brings me to questions five through, uhh, more,” 36658 looks directly into the camera, “Why can’t you do it yourself? Why are we specifically the ones you can rely on? And- and- and I’ll think of something else in a moment!”

“You don’t trust me, which is acceptable,” says the AI, reading 36658’s agitation, “I can’t do it myself for two reasons - number one is the extensive damage caused to this facility by the eruption of the Ataraki volcano 638 years ago. Normally, dwarf facilities were built to withstand a surface eruption of such scale, but the necessity of using magma flows directly for the previously mentioned material research required a more open construction of the facility, which allowed the damage to aggregate into levels which I can’t manage without trained staff. Reason number two is… the fact that I have nowhere to move the Reforger, and the destruction of such advanced technology which took centuries of research goes against every scrap of programming in me. However, even if I could still use the robotic bodies at this point, I wouldn’t be able to get to the Reforger anyway. One of the eruptions caused a collapse which split the facility into sections inaccessible to me via standard means.”

“It makes me think,” 10013 rubs its head, “If this place is collapsing on itself, why not just wait for the wobbly leg- wave frog- thingy to be buried underground?”

“The Wavelength Reforger,” the AI corrects it, “This neatly brings us to the main problem. Your idea would be absolutely correct were it not for the fact that for the past six years there have been griffon military units attempting to access the site from several angles. I sectioned off and locked up every place that I could but the damage to the facility is preventing me from activating a full self-destruct protocol. Thankfully, the rougher of their initial methods collapsed some entry points without my interference as well. However, the griffons will eventually dig through the istrium shell and access the Reforger site even if I thoroughly destroy this section of the facility.”

“We can dig through pretty much anything,” offers 10013, “If you tell us where to start, we can just tunnel into the other part of this place.”

“That would be extremely unwise. In case of an unauthorized breach and movement in the facility, the closed loop security systems will engage. The diagnostic system reports that there are enough defense options still working for this approach to be the last resort at best.”

“We’re not really good at fighting anyway,” 10013 shrugs.

“Since you triggered the outside scanner, I’ve had time to devise a plan,” says the AI, “A staff member with the correct identification will be able to enter the facility through the main entrance, thus not activating its defenses. I believe I can repurpose one of the robots in this room for such a mission and your task would only be to escort it in secret to the main entrance of this facility which is on the surface. I just need you to find a chassis that’s in one piece and wire it up according to my instructions. These robots are for menial labor and maintenance so some should still be in working order.”

“Worky bots! That’s like us!” beams 20100.

“Find an unbroken metal pony, got it!” 10013 nods, finally happy to have something to actually do.

The drones start examining the various robots scattered around the room.

“Why is it so important that griffons don’t find the refrogger anyway?” asks 20100, busy near the racks which seem to have hosted the bodies before collapsing, “You know, since us finding it is okay.”

“The Reforger prototype is incomplete. Several of the project milestones are marked as finished, but the device isn’t fully operational. According to my historical records, griffons are a naturally warlike species second only to the minotaurs. However, unlike minotaurs, the development path of their civilization diverged from tribalism into heavily scientific industrialism most similar to dwarves of ancient times. Since the Reforger’s use lies in manipulating… energy of all sorts,” the voice clearly decided against trying to use more detailed language there, “it’s possession by the griffons would inevitably result in their domination of the globe and subjugation or genocide of other species. Whether they would take centuries or millennia to reverse engineer its current state and finish it or build something else based on the technology, the end result would be the same. By doing this you are inevitably saving the world.”

“That’s bound to be a lot of points. At least a hundred,” 36658 punches the air victoriously, “Choke on that, 99111!”

“I guess now’s the time then,” 10013 looks at the other drones, “Thoughts?”

“I gots some bouncing around my head,” 20100 nods.

“And those are?”

“That we should help with the wobbly leg frog. We might save the world AND 36658 can get its points!” 20100 pulls 36658 into a hug.

“36658?” 10013 nods to it.

“I said my piece. I’ll do anything to make sure High Score isn’t forgotten,” says 36658 with absolute conviction.

“Alright, voice! We heard all we wanted to and we’re in!” 10013 looks towards the ceiling camera with a nod.

“I’m glad to hear it, but you lost me for a moment,” says the AI, “You were talking about points?”

“It’s a hive thing,” says 10013, “We’ll explain when we’re not in a hurry.”

“Speaking of which, how much time do we have?” asks 20100, “We’ll be leaving the island in four or five days. I’m not sure how long the boat trip takes without sinking.”

“Judging by how careful the griffons have been in their digging and ingress since their first failures, they should be entering at some point within the next decade…” the AI pauses, “That means over ten years.”

“Woooow, that’s so long!” 20100 breathes out and Smiley waves its slate now showing multiple zeroes, “We’re all only six years old!”

“Oh…” is all the voice says.

“Well, you still haven’t answered why the Retarder thingy is okay to be with us or… you know… ponies who might take it away,” says 36658, “By the way, this machine pony looks in one piece,” it pushes a chassis away from the unsorted pile on the floor.

“Simply put, my knowledge projects that zebras would be the second to understand the Reforger, but much slower than the griffons. However, even if they did partially reverse engineer it and built protective devices on its basis, the balance of the world wouldn’t swing so far because griffon technology doesn’t rely on magic. Yes, it would disrupt electronic devices and many more things, but gunpowder-based projectile weaponry, the core of military technology the griffons seem to be headed to, would still be effective. My projection also shows that even if united pony tribes were to fall, the griffons would become the counterbalance to zebra power. And if ponies came to the possession of the Reforger, the same applies. Besides, neither pony species with the exception of the pegasi is particularly warlike, so the end of the world scenario is unlikely.”

“And us? I don’t want to say mean things about the Queen because she’s gotten a lot nicer since the new rules, but if she got the super magic thingy things might not be as good,” 10013 says nervously, looking around just in case of sudden Chrysalis coming to bite its head off.

“The device is entirely incompatible with changeling bioengineering. By the time you successfully reverse engineer the Reforger, other species should be beyond our own level of technology.”

“HAH! Suck it, ponies and catbirds!” 20100 laughs, “You’re too smart to save the world!”

“That’s an unexpected reaction…” comments the AI, “Wait, 36658. Before we continue, let’s begin testing the robots for suitability. Now, listen carefully-”

It takes three untouched robots but the drones’ ability to grow claws on their legs for careful manipulation as well as the new carapaces designed by Shining Armor for agility eventually lead to one of the robots successfully reconnected to the collapsed rack to suddenly buzz with electricity. Segmented red circle appears inside its eyeball, projecting on its surface, and the short horn made of red crystal on its forehead shimmers.

“Calibrating,” its mouth moves and speaks with a voice similar to the AI’s.

“Eep!” 10013, who has been circling around the robot, jolts and backs away. 36658 jumps between it and the robot, hooves shimmering green in preparation to dig. 20100 just stares, and Smiley approaches the robot which is of its own size, presenting its tablet with [:)].

“Is this some sort of hieroglyphics?” asks the robot.

“It’s just Smiley’s scribbles. It’s the only way it can talk and we’re still getting used to it too,” says 10013, now approaching the robot as well, “So, who are you?”

The ceiling answers:

“I copied a small fraction of my programming into the maintenance unit. This will allow it to move beyond this complex and access the separated part of the facility through the main entrance. Let me test the projector-” the robot’s horn glows brighter and a picture made of light which is portraying some sort of a long stick made of pink crystal with a black handle appears hanging in the air, “This is what the Universal Wavelength Reforger looks like- Smiley, please stop that!”

Smiley stops waving its foreleg through the projection with an expression of pure amazement.

“Sure, great, but what do we call you?” 20100 taps on the robot's chassis and flinches when it looks at it, “We gotta be all sneaky, so we can’t just say ‘Hey, robot thingy!’ around all the griffons on the surface.”

“I can provide several hundred dwarf names, if you want to pick one that suits you.”

“Guysguysguysguys!” 20100 beams with excitement, “We should choose a changeling name! That way we can say this guy is a drone transformed into… uhh… walking statue! Because reasons!”

“I did see some zeroes and ones in its eyes when it was waking up,” comments 36658, “Maybe 10101? That way it doesn’t outrank 10013, but it’s smart and it could be that high.”

“You sure there wasn’t a two somewhere?” 10013 rubs its head.

“Two doesn’t exist in a binary code. I accept the designation 10101 for this unit. Overriding its serial code,” says the newly named 10101, “What is Smiley doing now?” it turns its head to Smiley vigorously rubbing its goop stick on the robot’s white-ish metal chassis to no avail.

“GASP! Being a genius. That’s even better than my idea!” exclaims 20100, “10101, do you have any paints or crayons or anything that would stick to that weird metal carapace?”

As 10101 points its horn and projects a narrow cone of light towards a tubular section in the corner of the room, 10013 sits down, pondering the situation.

I’m not sure what’s happening, but what we gotta do is clear. Get the weird glow stick thingy and either break it or hide it somewhere deep back home. Everything is deep back home so that part should be easy!

Author's Note

Booo! More dwarf stuff? We already had some! We want cake now.

Day 8 - Smiley's hole: 6/7

Chrysalis huffs and measures 36658 through narrowed eyes when she’s done searching the drone’s mind. Despite her annoyed tone, her digging has been much quicker and vastly less uncomfortable and draining than 387’s previous mind reading.

“Hmph, another changeling who thinks the changeling Queen is the one to change the least. If you don’t believe that things have changed then I invite you to examine why you still have a head and why you haven’t been executed to send a message that the traitorous thoughts in your head aren’t the smartest idea,” she smacks the back of 36658’s head and transfers a small amount of love during the contact, just enough so that 36658 can keep going through the day, “Now for the important things-”

She looks down at the still shaking 36658.

“I’m not going to disappear you or the other derps I took on this trip unless you really piss me off somehow,” Chrysalis rolls her eyes, “I’m entirely aware that learning new stuff will have you compare your life with what’s up here, and I still brought you because this guy,” she nods towards 387, “had some ideas I considered beneficial to the hive as a whole and drones are part of those. So, are you going to stop shaking and focus? Neither me nor 99 and 387 can move freely now and if we want to get out of this without major consequences then we have very little room for error, got it?” she leans closer to 36658, looking the drone straight in the eyes.

And at that point, as it’s looking into the glowing green, slit eyes, something finally clicks within 36658. Never, in no world under the old rules, would it be in this situation, would the Queen be talking to it without it being followed by torture and painful death. They owe High Score and its work with 387 in the logging camp so much more than they’ll ever know, and so much more than it can even tell in a believable story.

“What do we do, Your Maj- Majic- Queen-ness?” 36658 just asks and waits.

“Good,” she pats 36658’s head, “First thing first then - is there a way we could use the Reforger?”

“Chrysalis!” 387 shoots her a disbelieving glare.

“I didn’t mean in a military sense. There’s like ten and a half of us overall in the hive these days. Even if we wanted to use the device in some way all it would take would be a short-term treaty between ponies and literally anyone else and we’d be history, this time for real.”

“According to all we’ve heard so far, the device doesn’t work anyway,” 387 shrugs.

“Wrong!” Chrysalis shoots 387 a crooked smirk, “The machine very carefully danced around the subject but it does something, just not everything it’s supposed to. That means we’re taking it.”

“For the love of holes…” 387 facehoofs.

“Hey, the machine offered!” Chrysalis pouts at him, “We can either take the Reforger away or destroy it. It even accounted for the eventuality, so we’re in the right here. I wish I could talk to it…” she huffs in annoyance.

“Umm, 10101 is in our room,” says 36658.

“I know, but I can’t communicate at that distance to have a chat through one of you,” she explains, “And I can’t just sit for an hour by the main entrance or visit you straight up now that all three of us ‘under arrest’ have eyes following us twenty-four seven. Pretty sure Ten would at least think that I’m working through you and you’d all end up locked in some hole,” she scowls at a wall as if realizing something, “Hmph! And in the same way 1313 and Ten can just read your minds and learn everything. No, we’re getting that Refoger now and figuring out what to do with it, if anything, later… and we’re doing it in secret. Is there an advantage we have?”

387 taps his hoof against the floor.

“Ten did read the drones’ minds last night before all this while we were being questioned,” he says, “So-”

“So he won’t have a reason to do it again unless we give him one. Excellent,” Chrysalis pats 387’s head and the warrior growls at her, “This means we can’t help directly, and I don’t doubt that the drones managed to get out of the resort and back in unnoticed only because everything was fresh news and they picked the best time of the day to do it by complete accident. From now on we should act as if all of us, even the drones, have eyes on us at all times. That means no group actions related to the Reforger, having witnesses at all times, and not doing anything suspicious whatsoever.”

“I’d just like to say that even if the drones succeed they might be bringing the device directly into griffon talons. Come on, they can just destroy it without a trace by digging on the spot. Actual disintegration. Poof, device gone,” says 387, “I know you said you wanted it even if it’s partially functional, which is a massive leap of logic based on the semantics of someone you know nothing about in the first place, but we have zero technology. We would need to enlist top tier scientists, and by enlist I mean mind control and give them the device because it’s not in our power to build, staff, equip, and keep in secret a fully operational research facility.”

Chrysalis shrugs.

“Who knows? You get lucky with one correct drone-” she rolls her eyes with a sigh, “No, I want it. That’s an order, or we’re not risking our slowly improving reputation and potentially our lives for it. Understood? It wants our help, we’re not doing it for free.”

By now, 387 does know roughly how far he can push when going against Chrysalis and right now his face is scraping the wall. 36658, as a drone, knows full well that it has no say in a situation like this. If Chrysalis said no to this whole idea then it would be tough luck for 10101 no matter what. This way, the plan is happening but they just have to take the Reforger back with them.

“So, how do we do it?” asks 36658, “We asked Mister Shiny to borrow Miss Cadance’s awesome map and 10101 can help us figure out better where the entrance is.”

“Do that,” Chrysalis nods, “What it looks like from that scribble you have now is that it’s in the jungle but not near the tourist route. 99 took a guided tour yesterday and it looked fairly safe. However, you’ll have to go at night and you’re changelings, so who knows if the natives will be only… evasive.”

“I might have a better idea,” says 387, “Any movement at night will be suspicious, but late in the evening? Everyone is drunk, yelling or singing and also sneaking around. From a guard’s point of view, if a bush moves when it shouldn’t it could be a changeling but it could also be two nobles, who can’t be seen in public together for whatever reasons, banging.”

“Hmmm, not bad,” Chrysalis nods, “but let’s not stroke your ego too much. We can’t rely on that.”

“We could help that, maybe by luring some big names into an area with us? That would bring increased security as well and make it easier for the drones to slip out of the resort. But whom could we persuade without telling them what’s this about?”

“Umm,” 36658 raises its leg, “Mister Shiny likes playing Scufflestick with us. Maybe someone else who is important would like to try too?”

One moment of silence later, 387 starts laughing like a maniac.

“...was just an idea…” 36658 slumps with a frown which lasts only until 387 finally manages to push some words out through the laughter.

“Shining Armor versus Chrysalis, the battle of the century! The score is one for the Queen for her victory in bed, and one for the promoted Prince for kicking her army out of Canterlot. Best of three - It’s the finale we’ve all been waiting for!” the warrior hollers, making 36658’s eyes widen and its mouth to drop in amazement.

“YESSSSSS!” the drone immediately beams at Chrysalis who facehoofs, her irritation matched only by 36658’s re-ignited excitement.

“Are you seeing this, grandma? They wouldn’t dare pull this shit if I wasn’t trying to be all good and proper,” she grumbles into her hoof before stomping with a crack loud enough to make both 387 and 36658 twitch, “Fine! We’ll need to ask some favors of the few friends we still have to make this happen. 387, get ready to visit 1313 again. Promise his wife the drone she wants so much if you have to. Or an egg if she wants to get kinky, I don’t really care. 36658, send me 65536 and, while you’re already there, tell 99 who’s with it that I fully intend to torture her for this entire trip and she knows why, and that her job will be to rope Shining Armor into this,” she looks at 36658 who is barely standing after two full mind reads, one not exactly perfect, “99 will need to read your mind for our conversation so that we don’t waste time recaps. Here’s your free love refill, don’t get used to it.”

***

After grabbing 65536 at the gym and relaying Chrysalis’ message to 99, 36658 returns to the drone suite. There’s no one in the living room, but there’s audible talking coming from the heretic bedroom, so the duo follows the commotion. With the expected exceptions of Smiley and 10013, everyone is inside. 20100 is drawing symbols on a large blackboard according to 10101’s instructions, 99380 is copying them into the hive mind, and 99111 is sitting by the table next to the robot over the once again disassembled radio.

“Woooow!” 65536 immediately trots over to 10101 and starts poking it, “You look like Mister Bucket, only smaller. Sorry, I got carried away. I’m 65536,” it backs off and offers a hoof to shake which the robot takes.

“Your friends named this unit 10101. Are you aware of what help I asked of your friends?”

“Yup, 36658 brought me up to speed and told me the plan,” 65536 nods.

“Plan? I didn’t know we had a plan already,” 20100 floats down from the top of the blackboard, “Nice! What is it?”

“How about we take a quick break while I explain?” asks 36658, “10013 decided that telling 387 and the Queen would be the way to go, and…” it hesitates, “I agreed with its arguments.”

“Alrighty,” 20100 shrugs, “We could use a short rest. Right, 99380?”

The newbie drone nods and smiles.

“It’s getting easier and easier to save all that stuff, but my thinky ball still hurts.”

“See? Let’s take a breather,” 20100 sits down with an expectant look at 36658, “So, what are we doing?”

36658 explains the Queen’s idea regarding the late evening distraction in full detail. It’s slow and some pieces require repeating but in the end it’s much less draining than mind sharing and they’re all going to need all the love they can get. While it does so, 10101 studies Cadance’s map and measures it several times before pointing out a much smaller area of what it calls roughly fifty of its ‘standard units’ in diameter.

“Hmmm,” 65536 rubs its chin, “387’s idea is good but I think we can improve it.”

“GASP!” 99111 leans back.

“I agree with 99111,” says 20100 carefully, “That’s not something you usually get to say twice.”

“No no no, lissen!” 65536 lowers its voice conspiratorially despite there being absolutely no reason, “While it would be easier to search with all of us, the narrowed down area is pretty small so we should be okay if there’s only a few of us, maybe those who already know what they’re looking for and me, because I have experience walking through the Everfree forest on hoof.”

“I really, really want to go,” says 99111, “There must be so much to see!”

“Not really,” 36658 shoots it down, “We won’t be entering without 10101, so if you want to learn more about your mechanical stuff you can keep talking to 10101 while we search.”

“Oh,” 99111 glares at 36658 for a moment before saying, “...grumble grumble you’re right grumble grumble…”

“10013 and I should go,” suggests 36658, “We know what to look for, 10013 knows the best way to explain to others what we find, and I… can fight a bit too. 20100, 99111, and 99380, you can keep doing what you’ve been doing.”

“No, that’s where we can do my improvement,” says 65536, “You see, I think we can use the fact that normal ponies, and much less the griffons, can’t distinguish between us to make them think we’re all still here in the resort while the three of us sneak out. The only ones who look a bit different are Smiley with its size and you, 36658, with your scars, and Smiley is the easier one to make out.”

“True, so how do we use that?”

“We’ll have to forgo an evening of drawing blueprints, which is okay because if 99380 keeps doing this the whole day it’ll be exhausted anyway, and doing only thinky stuff all the time can’t be healthy,” 65536 shakes its head, “We’ll leave 10101 in the suite. Sorry, 10101, but I don’t think we can keep you hidden in plain sight, and if the griffons are trying to get into the underground tunnels to find these robots we shouldn’t just parade you around.”

“A sensible choice,” replies 10101.

“Thank you,” 65536 continues, “So I want everyone to be as visible as possible and move around as much as you can,” it beams, “Enjoy all the attractions, be loud, be happy, have fun and, most importantly, be seen! If you do it well enough and if we are sneaky enough then no one has to know we ever left the resort.”

“And if they do?” asks 20100, “You know, it’s always a good idea to have a plan B.”

“Ha! But I already have a plan B, and it is… waaait for it…” 65536 doesn’t lose the tiniest bit of its cheer, “It is that we’re not doing anything wrong, we just don’t want to get followed. The Queen and the high ranks are the ones under house arrest, not you, and we won’t be taking 10101 with us.”

One by one, the drones exchange stunned looks.

“Oh…”

***

“REPRESENTATIVES OF THE CRYSTAL EMPIRE!” 99’s voice booms over the promenade. She’s been following the duo for a while, polishing her idea and waiting for the best time to spring the trap. Shining and Cadance turn around while Prism covers Cadance’s back and Glintstone takes his place by Shining’s side. Of course, every guest, vendor, and resort guard in the vicinity looks their way with various degrees of openness, “IN THE NAME OF THE QUEEN, I CHALLENGE YOU TO A DUEL!” 99 points at them with an intense expression.

“I’m sorry, what?” Shining steps forward, one eyebrow raised.

“A DUEL OF STRATEGY AND INTELLIGENCE,” calls out 99.

“She isn’t talking about that drone game, right?” asks Cadance quietly.

“O ho ho,” Shining allows himself an evil grin, “If she is…”

“A BEST OF THREE GAMES OF SCUFFLESTICK IN A PUBLIC SQUARE THIS EVENING!” 99’s voice cracks by the end and she starts coughing and walking closer to the duo, “I’m sorry for yelling, I just wanted to make this as public as possible,” she smiles, “The Queen saw how enamored the drones were with their game and, since this trip is mostly for them, wanted them to see their game played out in public in front of others.”

“I don’t mind playing against Chrysalis,” Shining shrugs, casual poker face activated.

“The Queen, however, is challenging Empress Cadance,” says 99, “Let me quote her - I got her husband, she decimated my army. Let’s settle this once and for all,” Shining chokes on his saliva while Cadance’s eye twitches. While 99 isn’t yelling anymore, she’s still loud enough for creatures around to hear easily and she knows that if Cadance refuses… well, it’ll be a joke to tell at some party at worst. To guide the duo through their shock and towards conflict, she adds quietly, “Don’t worry. She said she’d let you win and allow herself to be publicly humiliat-”

“We accept and I will crush her insect ass fair and square!” Cadance retorts, yelling at 99’s face, “Also, don’t take offence at the ‘insect’ part. You are a changeling citizen of Equestria, your drones are adorable critters, but your Queen is a love sucking insect parasite who deserves a Raid enema!”

“I… will make sure to never tell her that,” 99 blinks, backing off from a smile so obviously forcibly plastered on Cadance’s face.

“So, Caddy, I get that we’re doing this?” asks Shining.

“Pff,” Cadence lets out a fake, hoity-toity laugh, “It’s just a game, Shiny.”

“A game no version of which you’ve never played while she’ll have 99’s and the drones’ knowledge in her head,” he objects.

“You’re silly, Shiny. How hard can it really be?” she waves her hoof dismissively, “You move some pieces like when you oversee the Crystal Guard drills and you roll the dice a bunch.”

Shining’s head finally catches on. He knows his wife and he also knows that others often see his wife as a dumb bimbo, an empty figurehead. If she’s playing into that perception, somepony is in for a nasty surprise.

“Well, 99,” Shining nods, “I think you can tell your Queen that we accept. A fair, best-of-three match, no throwing.”

99 bows deeply, mostly to cover her victorious smirk. When she rises up again, her poker face matches Shining’s and Cadance’s.

“Thank you. I’m sure the drones will appreciate it to no end.”

“Of course,” Cadance nods politely, “Anything for the little ones.”

***

“Another day, another eight hour shift on the beach?” asks 387, approaching 1313 sitting under an umbrella with Zeri who tensed up the second she noticed the warrior and hasn’t relaxed yet. In the distance, Zamira and the other two zebra bodyguards are swimming as tiny dots. One of the zebra dots makes a circle around Zamira, points towards the beach, and all three zebras start swimming back.

“What can I say? Zamira loves swimming,” 1313 shrugs with a smirk, “Perhaps I should invest in a pool back home. Holes know we have the space,” he hums to himself, “A public one, maybe?”

“Well, from all I’ve heard about you you seem to be doing alright, so I won’t be plugging any of my urban development ideas,” 387 chuckles, “May I sit down?”

“Sure,” 1313 pats the sand next to himself, “And while I’m getting used to the company of some of your rank you can get straight to business. Or did the unthinkable happen and you’re not working?”

“Heh,” 387 sits down, “Always working, 1313. The hive never sleeps.”

“You had so many ways to not make this sound creepy, yet you went with that one.”

It’s taking 387 some serious self-control to not shuffle around when he knows that Zeri moved into his blind spot during the conversation.

“Sorry. I guess I now know how Chrysalis feels because she does that all the time,” 387 sighs, “Let’s get to business then - I need a favor. Technically, a rather strange thing happened today, unrelated to the ship incident, and I’m still not sure what to think of it myself, but…” 387 stops and tries to gather his scattered thoughts, “It’s nothing… I need… we…” 387 facehoofs, “Look, for a strange reason we’re trying to make a Scufflestick game between Chrysalis and Shining Armor happen. I don’t want to tell you why, but I obviously know you can read the drones’ minds about our current… weirdness. Feel free to do it if it counts towards your help, but you won’t be allowed to tell anyone, not even your wife.”

“You’re sounding beyond suspicious, you know that?”

“Yes!” 387 kicks the sand, “It’s stupid, but I promise that it’ll make sense… some parts of all this, if you read the drones. 1313, I know it’s hard to believe but you’re genuinely not on the Queen’s radar. If you share what you find in the drones’ minds, you will be.”

“And we’ve arrived in the threat territory. Took a little longer than I expected, but we’re here.”

“No! No,” 387 shakes his head, “I’m sorry. We just need this - you, this evening, at the Scufflestick game. Preferable with some friends. I need eyeballs there, that’s all. Nothing else, nothing suspicious, all we need is a mob watching the game.”

“On one hole, it does sound harmless,” 1313 rubs his chin, “On the other - Chrysalis.”

“What’s going on here?” asks Zamira, still dripping water all over, who finally made it back from the sea.

“387 wants our help in organizing a flash mob audience for a board game of Chrysalis against Shining Armor, the more eyes the better,” summarizes 1313, “And I’ll supposedly figure out whose movement he wants to hide and why if I read the drones’ minds but I won’t be able to tell anyone. Is that about right, 387?”

Infiltrator to the bone. I guess thinking he wouldn’t figure it out was optimistic at best.

“You hit the nail on the head,” 387 nods and leans closer to 1313, “Look, you know we had nothing to do with sinking the ship, I know you checked the drones’ heads the second you heard about our house arrest, but what we’re dealing with now is completely unrelated, we just can’t let griffons watch us. You won’t even be doing anything illegal or even morally wrong, and you might get to see Chrysalis get taken down a peg in a game of tactics.”

“I know Chrysalis wouldn’t send you without a bargaining chip.” says 1313 after a moment of thinking.

“The drone you wanted,” 387 looks at Zamira, “Chrysalis is willing to send you either a newly hatched drone, one hurt beyond healing who would be in a much greater danger in the hive, or… an egg directly implanted by her… with all the bells and whistles, for any or both of you. She’s a 700 year old infiltrator Queen, I’m sure she knows tricks with both males and females no matter the species that no one else does. That’s what Chrysalis offers.”

“Zamira? I think this is more your choice than mine,” 1313 looks at the zebra, “I don’t mind helping and, from what I’ve gathered so far by linking up through 99380, they’re not lying.”

“As tempting as it would be to see what a changeling Queen is capable of, pregnancy is the one part I’m not looking forward to and I already have the changeling I need,” Zamira leans against 1313, “So if 1313 believes this isn’t dangerous for us then I guess we can help. In the name of diplomatic relations, right?” she winks at 387.

“I’ll relay your answer to the Queen and we’ll discuss the drone later,” 387 stands up, bows, and leaves.

“Zami, any ideas on how to organize a mob?” asks 1313, “We’ll need some bigger names to draw the attention of the griffon guards there.”

“Future aunts, how do you feel about using your feminine wiles?” Zamira looks around at the trio of bodyguards.

“As long as you promise not to call me a future aunt again, I’m in,” smirks Zaida.

“Honey, I know how happy this will make you as long as we don’t get some disguised spy, so let’s draw some attention,” Zeri winks at Zamira.

“You two play honeypots, I’ll keep watching the lovebirds here,” Zara nods, “Juuust in case.”

“You too, Zara,” Zamira shakes her head, “I can’t be getting all lazy and unaware so I’ll do the bodyguarding myself for the evening.”

Day 8 - Smiley's hole: 7/7

The crossroad where the promenade intersects the main road leading north and up the hillside through the resort and down to the beach now hosts a set of mobile bleachers. Deck chairs are everywhere and vendors are getting record sales. A large, circular table with four chairs sits in the center of the crossroad, presumably for Chrysalis and Shining Armor as well as anyone who wants to watch up close. The table is set up to be the Scufflestick battleground for the evening, with banks, cover, and tunnels made from dirt, grass, and several small barricades made of wood. Finally, there’s a dais in the right beach corner with two folding chairs, a table with several drinks, and Bright Star paired up with Trixie. The paladin’s horn is glowing as he experiments with versions of illusion spells which would best allow him to project the battleground into the air for everyone to see. Contrary to the usual paladin attire, Bright Star is wearing a multicolored Hawaiian shirt, a shade on his forehead, and a pair of sunglasses propped on his horn, all while sipping a cocktail in a plastic cup through a straw. Sitting on the second chair is Trixie wearing her usual star-decorated, purple hat, her matching cloak hanging from the corner of the podium due to the heat.

”TESTING, TESTING! ONE, TWO, THREE!” Trixie’s voice booms over the gathered crowd and street vendors who moved their booths from further parts of the promenade.

“I must say, this isn’t the most professional look,” the crowd parts before the huge mass of Sun Hammer as the Acting Grandmaster finds her way to the podium.

“On the contrary, Sunny!” Bright Star takes his hind legs off of the podium, beaming at Sun Hammer, “We’re off duty, so you should be the one relaxing, and you aren’t,” he shakes his head before leaning to Sun Hammer’s ear, “Besides, I’m in the perfect position to both keep an eye on our suspects and a protective hoof over them in case it’s all a set-up. Plus, 65536 called in a favor. You don’t just refuse that, and we still haven’t figured out a wibble resistance spell. Curse that infernally adorable power!”

Sun Hammer sighs and looks at Trixie doing vocal exercises.

“And her?”

Trixie shoots her a defiant glare.

“I got paid a bunch by one of those little weirdos to use my showmareship talent and draw some attention to this event. Plus I’m running a betting pool. Don’t look at me like I’m doing anything wrong, I know my rights and we’re in international waters… on an international island… something along those lines,” she pouts.

Sun Hammer decidedly turns her head back to Bright Star.

“Do you require my assistance here?” she asks.

“I doubt it. Both Chrysalis and Cadance are in this willingly and have had some time to prepare, so while I expect them to fight as dirty as this game allows I’m sure nothing dangerous is going to happen,” Bright Star shrugs and takes a sip of his cocktail, “I could use your company, though.”

“Bright Star, I have no idea what’s going on here other than there are way too many way too drunk creatures around.”

“Sunny, it’s a tactical board game. 65536 explained the basics to me and I really think you’d enjoy it. You could maybe help Trixie here commentate,” he nudges Sun Hammer, “She knows how to hype something up for sure but an actual tactician could do wonders to pull the crowd in. This has to be better than that mystery novel you’re reading.”

Sun Hammer looks around from the raised dais. There are nobles and servants everywhere, the crossroad is pretty much crawling with griffon guards and security ponies, and some of the hyperactive changeling drones are around. So far, she’s counted three but she’s sure she saw one among the creatures walking down the central road.

“When does all this start?” she asks.

“In about five minutes,” replies Bright Star, “Give or take ten more because we’re dealing with high royalty. Oh? Nevermind, I spoke too soon. Sunny, want me to go grab you a deck chair-”

“No need,” Sun Hammer steps off of the dais, “I’ll bring my own. Besides, I doubt there will be any tactics happening in the first few minutes,” she straight up walks off towards the beach,

Bright Star recasts his projection spell, making the enlarged board reflect off of the sky. With all its prepared obstacles it genuinely looks like a three-dimensional map of a real battlefield. While Trixie’s amplified voice calls out Bright Star’s questions about the visibility of the board’s projection and the two deal with “There’s nothing there yet!” replies as well as proper answers, Chrysalis flanked by 387 carrying a box of miniatures and 99 examining the surrounding crowd walks in through a gap which opens just for the changelings.

“Will you need me here, Your Majesty?” asks 99 mentally. Doing so with the suppressor causes a minor pressure in her head, but up this close it’s barely an inconvenience.

“Got a business meeting I wasn’t invited to? We’re doing this nonsense to cover our drones, we need to be in one place,” replies Chrysalis in a biting tone.

“No, Your Majesty. I thought I could go see the commentators. The friendly paladin is there, so maybe I could help them talk about the match since no one in the crowd knows the rules.”

“Go, just don’t bore them away by reciting unit statistics.”

99 splits off while Chrysalis sits down on the chair by the board and has 387 unpack the pieces. A few moments later, the projected board shifts and starts showing a rotating Ling warrior, all of which is followed by Trixie’s:

“A FIERCE AND TERRIFYING LING WARRIOR, ARMED AND READY TO PUNISH ENEMIES UP CLOSE WITH-”

The entire Crystal Empire delegation arrives accompanied by the crowd bursting into cheering from the direction of the beach. Shining Armor and Cadance in the front with Prism and Glintstone behind them, one of the Crystal Guards carrying a box of models as well.When Chrysalis spots them she suddenly feels kinda…

…shabby.

Shining, Shining is fine in his simple white shirt with buttons made of reflective crystals, but Cadance is wearing a simple, sleek, dark purple evening dress, and her mane has been styled into something that to Chrysalis looks like a tiered wedding cake. Chrysalis keeps up appearances and simply stands up, and gives the two a courteous nod with a polite smile.

Just… don’t say it out loud. Besides, looks won’t help her when I wipe the floor with her. Even if they took this seriously and spent the day preparing for this, I know everything about this game. Thank holes for mind-reading, because nothing could keep me awake if someone tried to explain what’s going on. Speaking of which, 99 has quite the commentating hurdle ahead of her.

“Ah, I see you were informed that I accepted your challenge, Your Majesty!” giggles Cadance, her voice magically amplified, before returning the bow.

Make this a show, Chrysalis.

“I admit I was surprised when I learned that Emperor Shining Armor was into tactical simulations, but even more so when I learned that this talent isn’t exactly appreciated back home and reciprocated,” Chrysalis internally breathes out when the amplification spell catches her voice as well, “So I, in trying to be the good diplomat, decided to offer you a lesson in ‘marital duties’.”

The crowd bursts into laughter at the idea of the Princess of Love and her consort spending time playing board games. Cadance’s title and aspect have always been prone to… misinterpretation, and she’s grown used to it. However, the way her face freezes just for a brief moment tells Chrysalis that Cadance’s mind went back exactly to the moment of her being imprisoned in Mount Canterlot caverns while Chrysalis ‘fed’ on her husband.

However, where the changeling Queen expected an outburst, none comes, and Cadance’s perfect smile returns as she says:

“I regret to inform you that you’re not going to have it so easy, Your Majesty. As per royal dueling traditions, a willing defender can fight in my stead, and I know one who wouldn’t hesitate to wipe the floor with you,” Cadance nods towards Shining, “Honey?”

“Always ready and willing,” replies Shining, which is met with someone from the crowd cheering ‘With a wife like that I would be too!’.

“Then I would like to-” Chrysalis immediately looks at 387 but Cadance shakes her head.

“Nu uh, that’s not how it works. After all, what good would duels be if a challenger sent others to fight in their stead?” Cadance sits down on a chair previously brought by Prism, “You can’t send somepony else to do your dirty work this time, Your Majesty.”

Whether that dueling rule is true or not, Chrysalis realizes that backing off and having 99 play for her would be a sign of weakness worse than losing outright.

Well played, Cadance.

“THE MIGHTY EQUESTRI FORCES AGAINST THE IMPERIUM OF LING!” announces Trixie with 99 now squeezed onto the small dais with her, Sun Hammer, and Bright Star, “AAAAND THE INITIATIVE GOES TO THE IMPERIUM OF LING! FIELD YOUR FIRST UNITS, YOUR MAJESTY!”

***

20100’s original idea of drawing schematics according to 10101’s descriptions didn’t last long, specifically up to the point when it learned what a schematic was and drew one. It quickly became clear that its drawing talent wouldn’t be necessary, so it left 99111 and 99380 with 10101 in the suite, grabbed an easel, several brushes, and some tubes of paints from the workshop, and now it’s sitting on a bench near the starting Scufflestick match but far enough where the crowd is already thin, easel with a blank canvas next to it.

It worked on the ship by complete accident, but maybe it can help pull more guests towards the crowd so they’d watch the game as well as making itself visible.

“What to draw? What to draw?” it mumbles, turning its head.

“Hey, you, little bug- changeling!” a haughty male voice somehow manages not to get drowned out by the chatter of the crowd.

Some curious looking around later, 20100 spots a vaguely familiar griffon pushing through the crowd towards it and waving. Not familiar in any particular sense, though, so it must have been one of the many creatures who at some point talked to it either on the ship or after it finished its drawing in the dining room. Gasping and rushing, the chubby griffon squeezes past the final few resort guests blocking his way, slumps onto 20100’s bench which has remained empty despite the crowd, and tries to catch his breath.

“Hello, Mister griffon!” 20100 smiles at him, “And I’m a drone changeling, not bug changeling. How would that even look? We don’t have two head noodles, just a stubby horn,” it bonks its forehead.

“You’re -haaa- the -haah- the painting -haah- one, right?”

“Mhm,” 20100 nods, “Want me to draw something? I’ve got time.”

“YES!” the griffon chokes out, “How much?”

“How much what?” 20100 grows claws, grabs a paint tube, and begins mixing paints similar to the gradient of the griffon’s light brown coat.

“Gold, gems, slaves! I’ve seen your work. Name your price.”

“I, umm, don’t think the Queen would sell me,” 20100 rubs its head, “I like it back home. So… maybe you just give me some shinies and I paint a picture of you?”

“Yesss!” the griffon punches the air, “How many… shinies will it be, then?”

I don’t exactly need shinies right now, maybe just a little bit to recover what I paid Miss Trixie… waaaaait…

20100 gets an idea, a wonderful idea.

“Hmm, could you bring some of your friends here so that I could paint them too?” 20100 is figuring out the details as it speaks, “I… I’d like to try, uhh, a new way of painting, umm, a quick way. So… I’ll do it, uhh, for zero or maybe only a few shinies, it just won’t be as detailed as I normally draw.”

“You would do this for exposure?!”

***

With even the topmost arc of the sun’s disc disappearing over the horizon, the sea finally stops sparkling and the two changelings and one zebra sitting in the waves near the beach cease splashing one another with water.

Zamira looks at Smiley who starts gently slapping the water’s surface with a vacant expression on its face.

“Honey?” she nudges 1313 sitting in the third point of the triangle and watching the beach from the corner of his eyes.

“Hmm?” 1313 leans over and kisses Zamira’s cheek, whispering afterwards, “There are two griffon guards watching us.”

“Shoot!” Zamira smirks and slaps the water with a pretend frustration, “I noticed just one. Good eyes, honey. Do we pack up and leave? The water’s still warm but I think our little changeling might be stuck,” she waves her hoof in front of Smiley’s face, receiving zero reaction, “Is anything wrong?”

1313 taps into Smiley’s hive link and immediately withdraws.

“Uhh, mind-reading Silents is… not a pleasant experience,” he says, “The only thing I gathered was a mention of the best number. I have no clue what that means and I’m not digging deeper in its head. How about we wake it up the old way?” he boops Smiley’s nose which makes its ears twitch and tongue slip out of its mouth.

“Are you okay, Smiley?” Zamira can’t stop herself and pulls at the tongue with the frog of her hoof. With a weak but visible jolt, Smiley seemingly returns to reality and, after a few surprised blinks, hugs both 1313 and Zamira, “That doesn’t answer my question. In fact, that actually makes me a little more worried.”

Smiley nuzzles her neck with its nose in response.

“I guess that’s the best answer we’re going to get,” Zamira hugs back, “How about we go see how many onlookers the girls managed to pull towards Chrysalis game then?”

“Sure, why not?” 1313 shrugs, “How about that, Smiles?”

Smiley ignores him.

“Smiley?” he tries again and it turns to him immediately, “Alright, no nicknames,” 1313 chuckles and pats Smiley’s head, “Let’s grab our things and-”

Before he even finishes the sentence, Smiley is already bolting towards two deck chairs on the beach with a drink cooler and a backpack.

“-go see the game,” 1313 finishes just as Smiley pulls out its slate hidden under Zamira’s backpack, draws the string over its head, and squeezes it tightly against its chest with a sigh of relief.

***

“I REGRET EVERYTHIIIIIIIIIIING!” screams 99111 as it rockets along the beach at blinding speed, tightly hugging the handlebars of the jet ski borrowed under the impression that technology can only be good, “I PROMISE I’LL NEVER EVEN THINK ABOUT TINKERING AND TECHY STUFF I’LL JUST DIG AND CARRY AND USE GOOP AND WHY DID I DO THIIIIIIIIS?!”

Center of balance slightly forward, hind legs pressing together, grip the handlebars tightly, keep them straight.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

Despite all the panicked screaming, begging, overall incoherent yelling, and 99111 internally repeating the instructor’s words to itself… it’s doing a pretty good job for a first time rider. On top of that, it’s definitely doing a fantastic job in its original task of drawing attention considering the two griffon guards circling above it and one watching from the beach.

***

One wouldn’t expect a changeling drone at a firing range.

*BOOM!*

That might be a good idea.

“Ow ow ow ow ow ow!” 99380 drops the griffon gun, stumbling backwards on its hind legs before falling over on its butt and staring at the claws on its forelegs hurting from the recoil of the heavy pistol.

“Dumbass,” a laughing griffon wearing a protective vest, goggles, and earmuffs walks over to 99380.

“Whaaat?” 99380 looks at the griffon’s beak moving before it realizes it’s wearing earmuffs as well and reaches for them. The griffon shakes his head, pushes the drone’s forelegs down, and points behind himself.

99380 gathers itself from the floor and follows the griffon into a soundproof booth in the corner of the firing range. When the griffon takes his earmuffs off, 99380 finds it safe to do so too, revealing its drooped ears.

“Sorry,” says the drone, “Did I break the boomstick? I… it was so loud… and it moved on its own-”

“That’s what you get for starting with something of Talon 13’s caliber, especially with shattershot,” snickers the griffon. When he sees the drone’s blank look, he adds, “The gun you fired and the ammo you loaded.”

“I, uhh,” 99380 rubs its head, “I just looked at what the others were doing and picked up a boomstick that was left in a free shooty spot.”

The griffon facepalms.

“Emperor-damned nobles!” he rolls his eyes, his jovial tone gone, “Thinking they can do what they want without learning proper firearm etiquette.”

“Sorry,” 99380 hangs its head.

“Now that I know what happened I’m not about to chew out a total newbie who just did what they saw others doing, I’m pissed at the guy who was shooting there before you wandered in and didn’t unload and re-rack the gun. Do you want to learn to shoot properly, little… bug guy?” asks the griffon.

“I, umm, sure?” 99380 perks up at the offer, “I don’t think I’ll ever do this back home, but I’m supposed to try a whole bunch of new things and tell other drones what the surface looks like and what surface creatures do for fun.”

“Then let’s start with something that won’t break your talons,” muses the griffon while heading out of the booth, “Come and put the earmuffs back on.”

99380 follows him outside into the thankfully muted noise of various firearms. There’s a rack of openly accessible weapons on the back wall of the range itself, filled with several copies of various guns ranging from small to something 99380 thinks it would have to carry on its back.

“Can you hear me okay?” the griffon raises his voice and 99380 nods, “Good. Let’s start with this,” he takes a pistol that's a third of the size of what 99380 fired before, grabs a few bullets from an open box nearby, loads one into the pistol from the top, and leads 99380 into the nearest free spot on the firing line, “Single-shots like this one are the only variant of a gun that’s available to the general public. Everything with a higher rate of fire is reserved for the police forces or the military in case of the newest tech. Of course, the nobles here can get their talons on the mid-tier stuff but it’s against the Imperial laws to buy, sell, or own military hardware and the definitely-not-real Black Ops take it very seriously. We can’t have untrained and undisciplined civilians with access to something they can wipe out a city block with. Guys who go to the range regularly, though, can try out some serious firepower even on the mainland, not just in this rich folk’s playground,” he shakes his head, “I got a bit carried away. Anyway, let me show you how to do this properly.”

The griffon takes the pistol with both forelegs, steadies himself on his hind legs, aims, and pulls the trigger. A hole appears in the center of the paper target hanging on a stick ahead. The shot isn’t spooky or downright stunning for 99380 this time, so it gathers the courage and grabs the gun once the instructor puts it down, sights along the barrel, and pulls the trigger.

Nothing happens. The griffon instructor points at five bullets lined up on the counter and beckons at 99380 to give him the pistol. After reloading, he gives it back.

“Hold it steady, it’s small but it’ll still kick. Aim a little under where you want to hit because the barrel will pull upwards, and slowly squeeze the trigger.”

99380 fires. Just above the bullseye.

“Nicely done!” the griffon beams and pats 99380’s back with genuine joy, “You almost hit the center.”

“I didn’t want to, because you already made a hole there so I aimed above it,” 99380 smiles back.

“I’ll have to chalk it up to a beginner’s luck, because that’s damn impressive!”

Over the next fifteen minutes, 99380 proves that it definitely wasn’t luck. Drone precision used while drawing applies to well-maintained firearms too, but they quickly hit a limit in steadiness as any mid-tier caliber 99380 fires kicks too badly for the drone to handle, and 99380 reminds itself that it’s supposed to be moving around throughout the evening.

“This was a lot of fun, but I gotta go,” 99380 unloads its currently used pistol and returns it to its place on the rack in the back, “Thank you for taking your time with me.”

“It was a pleasure and you’re a fantastic shot,” the instructor gives the drone an appreciative nod, “If you want to keep it up back in Equestria, I have a few friends who could supply you with both legal firearms and the ammo.”

“I don’t think the Queen would let us do that,” 99380 immediately breaks his heart when it shakes its head, “And you said you hunt food with these. I’m not sure if it would work for us, you know? We, changelings, eat love and have holes,” it shows its forelegs, “But we can’t get love from each other, so a boomstick that makes holes in things wouldn’t help us get love from them. Maybe the exact opposite.”

“That’s not how-” the griffon blinks and stops, “Why does that make perfect sense but for completely the wrong reasons?”

“Ehhh, what do you mean?” 99380 scratches its head.

“Nevermind,” he shakes his head, “Have a good rest of the evening, and feel free to come again.”

“You too, Mister boomstick!” 99380 waves at him as it walks away, “And I will! I wanna fire the biggest one at least once.”

***

A completely unsuspicious bush near a bridge crossing a small ravine separating the resort from the jungle moves. Somewhat suspiciously, one might say.

However, as Glorious Quest walks past it on the way to the center of the resort he doesn’t seem to notice. What he somehow does notice, however, is a griffon guard perched atop a tree nearby, and he shifts the glow coming from his horn from a general aura of light into a beam aimed directly at the griffon.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?!” the griffon calls out and flies down, scowling at Quest.

“I was about to ask you the same question?” asks Quest in an amused tone, “Is somepony sneaking off for a quick smoking break while all the fun’s going on at the beach?”

“No, you pavement pounder,” the griffon looks around, shielding his eyes from Quest’s glowing horn, “I’m pretty sure I was following someone sneaking around. Must be the changelings…”

“I hate to break it to you but all the hive changelings are accounted for,” Quest smirks, “If I were you, I’d go back and keep an eye on the game between Empress Cadance and Queen Chrysalis. If you make it without anypony noticing you might even avoid your boss realizing that you got outclassed by a security detail of ‘pavement pounders’.”

The griffon growls but Quest just passes him by in the direction of the resort and starts whistling to himself. Annoyed, he flies back into the air, gives the ground a once-over, and flies away.

Nothing happens for roughly two minutes. Then the unsuspicious bush moves again.

Six teal, glowing eyes, open as a trio of drones using a brown, dark green, and black camouflage carapace coloring let out a breath of relief.

“Neat trick!” 10013 commends 65536’s idea of camouflage.

“I learned it from Mister Night Hunter. It’s crazy how sneaky a big pony like him can be,” 65536 looks around, “I think we’re clear. Let’s go!”

Their hoofsteps muffled by yet another sneaky hoof transformation 65536 showed them earlier, 65536, 10013, and 36658 rush out of the resort and into the jungle.

Author's Note

Aaand another day's done. I think I have a single chapter in the buffer left, but work's been seriously hectic lately and I've started playing Mechanicus again so I haven't had that much time, energy, or focus to write. Anyway, hope you're all doing well and that my version of changelings is making the world just the tiniest spark brighter.

Day 9 - The Wobbly-leg Frogger: 1/9

65536, 10013, and 36658, all still wearing camo carapace colors, rush through the jungle along a well-maintained tourist path while 65536 explains what to look out for.

“I don’t have much experience with jungles, but I’ve seen a documentary -at least I think it was a documentary- about Daring Do and they explained a lot in it that was very similar to my experience with the Everfree forest. The worst thing, at least for ponies, are the dangernoodles. There are bitey ones and crushy ones, but I don’t think they’re used to changelings, because I stepped on bitey ones multiple times by accident -they’re really hard to see in the dark- and they always bit me and then slunk off. It didn’t even scratch my carapace much.”

“So, not too dangerous noodles?” asks 10013.

“I think they’re super dangerous to ponies because they’re squishy,” 65536 shrugs, “The crushy ones are supposedly a problem even for changelings because if they catch you they just wrap around you and squeeze so hard they can crush all kinds of stuff, even pony suits of armor.”

“That sounds much worse!” comments 36658.

“It’s not that bad. Supposedly they’re really slow at crushing so we can always just dig them. High ranks and ponies can’t do that and not all unicorns can teleport away.”

“So, overall, dangernoodles are more noodles than danger, right?” summarizes 10013.

“Yup, but let’s be careful anyway,” 65536 ducks under a low hanging branch, “What’s much worse are stripey biters. They’re big like earth ponies, super quick, have sharp teeth and claws. Very nasty. They can sleep in bushes or in the trees and they can pounce on you. They don’t like loud things, from what the moving picture said, but we don’t want to be loud either.”

“Good thing it’s so bright outside at night,” comments 36658. While it is roughly ten o’clock at night, the starry dark sky with the moon shining with nearly zero cloud cover both mean the drones can see just fine.

“Yup, although stripey biters can supposedly see really well in the dark too,” 65536 pauses, “Got it! Muscly bashers! They’re huge, loud, super strong, quick, and move around in the tree canopies as well as on the ground. Those are a big no-no. I think they’re super territorial, though, so we might be in the clear if one of the tourist routes is near the area we need to search.”

“So, the biggest baddie, but it’s unlikely we’ll see it,” 10013 nods, “Anything else?”

“Most critters just run away when they sense anything unusual, which is why I’m sure we’re not being followed, because there are jungle noises all around,” says 65536, “Overall, jungles can be super nasty but it’s still a cakewalk compared to the tunnels.”

“Wait, walking on cake?” 10013 stops turning its head around while trotting and looks at 65536’s back, “Do ponies do that?”

“I think Princess Celestia does that sometimes,” admits 65536 after brief hesitation, “I once accidentally entered her room through a wobbly magical mirror connecting hers with Luna’s and she was having her hoof licked by two Royal Guards. I think ponies use cakewalk when they mean that something is easy.”

“Walking on cake can’t be easier than on rocks,” 36658 shakes its head.

“Yeeah, some pony sayings and names are kinda weird. That’s one thing we drones have got figured out much better,” says 65536 to the agreeing nods of its companions.

While the security briefing is over, the drones still have a long trek ahead of them.

***

20100 realizes it might be in trouble.

Its idea of painting portraits right next to the match between Chrysalis and Cadance originally sounded perfect. It would draw in some creatures interested in a picture, and they would proceed to watch the game while the portrait is being drawn. The speed painting idea it came up with looked even better. Until…

Until it noticed that there were more creatures interested in its paintings than in the board game itself despite Trixie’s valiant play-by-play commentary, 99’s tactical analysis, and Bright Star gradually adding special effects to the live action map projected above the crowd.

Maybe the Queen won’t be so mad?

“-AND WITH THIS DICE ROLL IT SEEMS LIKE THE EMPIRE OF LING’S LINE OF DEFENSE IS STARTING TO CRUMBLE UNDER THE ONSLAUGHT OF SHINING ARMOR AND HIS EQUESTRI KNIGHTS!” Trixie’s voice booms through the air, “PERHAPS THE QUEEN WOULD DO BETTER TO CONCEDE THIS BATTLE AND RETHINK HER STRATEGY FOR GAME TWO.”

Oh goop…

Thankfully, those mobile of promenade vendors moved their carts close to this gathering, so even those guests who are uninterested in the game itself are still around, enjoying the food and, quite likely, Chrysalis’ public defeat. How the Queen will treat the situation is a question.

“I MUST ADMIT THAT THE FLANK USING A UNIT OF INFILTRATOR ASSASSINS TO TAKE DOWN THE EQUESTRI CHAMPION WAS AN EXCELLENT MOVE, BUT IT SEEMS LIKE THE OPPORTUNITY CAME WAY TOO LATE,” adds 99, “I’M NOT ABOUT TO GIVE TIPS TO ANYONE BUT IF SHINING ARMOR MAKES THE MOVE I’M THINKING OF THEN THE ONLY HOPE REMAINING FOR THE QUEEN WILL BE QUITE CRAZY DICE LUCK. AAAND YEP, HERE GOES THE CAVALRY CHARGE RIGHT PAST THE OCCUPIED LING FRONT LINE.”

Oh double goop.

“Hey, changeling, are you about done?” asks a griffon waiting for his quick painting.

“Uhh?” 20100 twitches, blinks, and returns to reality, “Yes, yes yes,” it nods distractedly and presents the canvas to the griffon.

“Excellent!” the griffon tosses a dark blue gem cut into an oval shape to 20100, “Here you go!”

“Thank you, but I didn’t ask for-” 20100 stops and just takes the gem from the ground, putting it into a new dent in its leg carapace. Despite it not asking for any rewards tonight, many nobles, or pretty much anyone who came and asked for a quick, simplified painting, gave it gold or small gems. By now, the saddlebag in which 20100 previously had its drawing supplies is entirely insufficient to hold the received bounty, leaving the drone’s carapace seriously blinged out. If this goes on, 20100’s direct monetary value might reach that of some of the resort buildings.

“MY turn, you lowlife!” a griffon matriarch, no other word would properly describe the female, shoves a different approaching griffon aside and walks right up to 20100. The griffon reaches for a rapier on his belt and opens his beak for a furious ‘How dare you?!’ but when he realizes who he’s about to talk to he chokes on his saliva and backs off into the crowd without a word. 20100, of course, has absolutely zero clue who the massive matron is and offers a smile that’s more nervous due to the overall situation than her, which is something she misses entirely, “Hmph, more respect on a changeling’s face than from some irrelevant court noble. Griffons these days. Changeling!”

“Yes, Miss?”

“That’s High Duchess of Bloodstone for you, changeling,” she looks down at the drone.

“Yes, Miss High, uhh, da cheese, of blood stones?” 20100 scratches its head as the nearest members of the crowd gasp, “Do you want a picture?”

The Duchess narrows her eyes but, to the unvoiced shock of everyone who heard the exchange, doesn’t press the issue. Instead, she skips to the task ahead.

“Yes, I do. However, I require more than a simple picture.”

“I’m just drawing these today, Miss,” 20100 points to the empty canvas and next turns its head in panic, looking for the last customer who vanished into the crowd, “Uhh, I mean simpler pictures. I didn’t even get the proper paints for the pictures I drew on the ship.”

“Not what I meant, changeling!” she briefly leans to 20100’s ear and whispers, “Could you paint my head on someone else’s body?”

20100 shakes its head.

“I can’t do imaginary stuff yet, Miss. That’s why I’m practicing.”

“What if I brought someone else?”

20100 ponders it, suddenly intrigued by the idea. Since it draws from memory anyway it could just be drawing a part of one picture and the rest from a different one.

“That sounds interesting, but I think you’d both need to strike the same pose. It’s worth a shot,” the drone beams in the end.

“Excellent!” the matriarch looks backwards and calls out, “Servants, get Clara here!” as several griffons disappear into the crowd, she continues, “Now let’s discuss your payment.”

20100 waves its gem-covered leg.

“I don’t think I want more shinies, Miss. I’m starting to have trouble raising my leggos.”

“Servants, chicks, territory, a minor title,” the Duchess waves her foreleg dismissively, “I have the resources.”

“I… could you help me with something?”

“Are you asking me a favor? Alright, present your request.”

“Well, I think my Queen will be kinda mad at me because there are more creatures watching me draw than watching her game. On top of that it seems as if she’s losing so she might not be in a great mood later. Could you maybe ask some of your friends to go watch her games tonight?”

“Is that it?” she asks after a moment of watching the drone with a raised eyebrow.

“Too much?” asks 20100, “Sorry, I guess a shiny is good too. I’m using up a lot of paints and drawing sticks so I gotta buy more.”

The Duchess taps her beak with a talon, thinking.

“Would two hundred griffons be enough?” she asks.

“Two- huuuuh?” 20100’s eyes go wide, “YESSSS!”

“Then we have a deal,” she nods and strikes a haughty pose with one foreleg raised, “Start drawing my head, changeling. Clara should be here soon.”

“Already here, mother,” says a faintly familiar female voice which makes 20100 look out of the cover of its easel. It’s the griffon chick who offered 20100 and 99526 a ‘good time’ on the ship.

“Hello, good time catbird lady!” it greets her with a wave and a smile. Clara winces and almost imperceptibly shakes her head, a gesture which is entirely lost on 20100.

“Clara, pose!” the Duchess strikes her pose again and her daughter does the same.

20100 takes a good look at both one more time and says:

“Yup, I think this can work,” it nods.

“Good, then get to painting and I’ll uphold my end of the bargain.”

She barks several orders and disappears into the crowd. Shortly after, the amount of griffons watching Chrysalis’ game starts growing, doing wonders to alleviate 20100’s nervousness.

Phew! Lucky meeting such a nice lady.

***

Shortly after leaving the resort behind them, 65536, 10013, and 36658 broke into a gallop, knowing that even with the Queen taking her time and the match lasting into the full three games they’ll have an hour per game at best. Thankfully, while the tourist route through the jungle wouldn’t lead them directly to the area they had to search it would get them close enough. On top of that, now that they’re running along it seems that both the jungle animals as well as the elusive hippogriff tribe know to leave the well-maintained path alone. Thanks to all those factors they reach the area where they should leave the path within half an hour and take a couple minutes to recover from all the running. 65536 is used to endurance tests like this from its guard training but the other two have to sit down, gasping for breath. When drones flee from monsters in the tunnels, it’s usually in short, fast bursts.

As the breathing of the drones calms down, 65536 takes care to listen.

“Good, I don’t think we’re being followed,” it says.

“What makes you think that?” counters 36658, “Anything can be hiding in all the greenery.”

“I’m as sure as I can be,” 65536 looks around, “Can you hear all the bleeping and squawking and all the weird noises? That means the wildlife thinks everything is the same as any other night. If there was, let’s say, a group of griffons following us, the surface critters would hide and stay quiet. I remember that from Nightguard wilderness trips.”

“That’s good news then,” 10013 stands up, stumbling as its legs protest but remaining upright, “Everyone ready? We can’t be sure how much time we have.”

“Yup,” with a quiet grunt which is the only noise the drones have made in the real world aside from breathing, 36658 gets up as well.

“Do we fly now that we have to leave the road?” asks 10013.

“We will, at least until we get to the area we’re supposed to search. It would probably be quieter to keep floating all the time, but we gotta look at things up close to hear the electric buzzing,” says 65536, “We’ll just have to be careful where we step.”

They take into the air, carefully buzzing a short distance from the ground and avoiding trees and low-hanging branches as best as they can. When they cross the border of the circle on their mental map marking the designated area they land and look around.

“Okay, can anyone hear anything?” asks 65536 to no avail and shrugs, “Guess it would be too optimistic to expect a quick success.”

“Where do we start? Do we just… walk and look around?” asks 36658.

“From what we’ve seen so far, 10101 has been nothing if precise, so maybe we just head to the center of the map circle?” suggests 10013 and 65536 nods.

Minutes pass with the drones stopping to listen every few pony lengths. Interesting nooks and crannies get searched with no result, and-

“Aaah?!” is the first voiced thing that comes out of any drone’s mouth since they left the resort, and that’s when 10013’s world suddenly turns upside down after it takes a step forward after checking a tree trunk from all sides. Something 10013 can only identify as tentacles wrap around the drone with a creaking noise, binding it in their tight and inescapable embrace.

65536 and 36658 immediately rush over to 10013 now hanging upside-down from a tree branch in a net made from vines. As they float up to cut it out, they hear a sharp whistle followed by a yell and they look around only to see two shadows swoop from the nearby branches and wrap them in another net. They’re dragged down but before they hit the ground the nets stop their descent and they can finally twist around to see what’s going on, revealing two equines covered in mud and leaves who would look like pegasi were it not for their larger size and talons on their forelegs instead of hooves.

36658’s hooves glow and few pieces of vines around them drop off, but the drone is just flailing without coordination so it’s failing to do any significant damage to the heavy net. 65536, on the other hole, doesn’t get disoriented and digs a hole for itself almost immediately with a synchronized, wide swing with all four legs. Its experience from being punted around in various directions by 387 helps it reorient itself in mid-air and charge the nearer hippogriff native head on while covering its muzzle with its forelegs.

The hippogriff clearly has no idea who he is facing because his focus remains on holding one end of the wide, now split, net into which the two hippogriffs just caught 65536 and 36658, and 65536 rewards him with an impact of a rather furious, sentient brick into his ribcage, knocking the air out of him and sending him to the ground, safe in the knowledge that it won’t cause critical damage because they’re only roughly two pony lengths above ground. Without hoofcuffs, dispatching a target of easily four-to-five times its size would be tough for someone like 65536, but a changeling is a changeling, so it lands on the hippogriff and when he raises its forelegs to protect himself 65536 spits a glob of quickly hardening goop on them.

Unfortunately, when 65536 hops off of the hippogriff and looks around to assess the situation, it quickly dawns on it that running away from tunnel monsters is a poor substitute for real combat training, especially when drones aren’t allowed to dig anyone. There are three more hippogriffs in sight now, 10013 is tightly tied up with more vine nets while its captor has one foreleg on it and is holding a spear touching its head with the other. Same is true for 36658, just with more nets.

“I’m an Equestrian Nightguard and we are all resort guests. We’re not here to fight. This is a misunderstanding,” 65536 says out loud, but its only answer are the tips of two spears scraping against 10013’s and 36658’s carapaces. It’s fairly sure that it could fight its way out of this, but it wouldn’t be able to do it before the two drones get impaled and without either killing or crippling the three hippogriff natives which could cause a lot of trouble for the other resort guests. So, with a heavy sigh, it sits down and raises its forelegs in submission, “I give up, just don’t harm them, please.”

Day 9 - The Wobbly-leg Frogger: 2/9

99526 waves at a griffon guard perched on the edge of a store overlooking the promenade while walking along the road one level above it. The griffon, clearly positioned so that he can see both the promenade as well as 99526, shuffles out of sight in response and the drone jumps into the nearest bush. There’s a plan in place and it must do its part. The moment it’s in cover it pulls out a piece of chalk from a leg hole and bends so that it can reach its side with its foreleg. There’s a series of large numbers written in white chalk nicely contrasting with the black carapace there, currently reading 10013. It wipes those off, writes down 99526, hides the chalk again, and sneaks along the side of the building down the slope to the promenade level. Pretending to be one of the currently missing drones in a crowd might be risky because, to be honest, 99526 is fully aware that it might forget which one it’s pretending to be if it’s put on the spot for whatever reason. Drones don’t usually think clearly under pressure and, to be honest, props to 99526 for being aware of it.

Moments later, 99526 mixes into the crowd gathering around the Scufflestic match area which seems to have grown considerably within the past fifteen minutes for no discernable reason.

“Gasp! Shinies!” it stops all of a sudden, prompting the griffon walking behind it to trip and steady itself by a quick flap of its wings as they try to avoid it, “Sorry!” the nudge returns 99526 back to reality and it darts between creatures to the side of the promenade where there stands a booth offering sparklers, romane candles, and overall a wide assortment of non-launchable fireworks. It remains standing in front of the booth, simply staring upwards at the counter, or more specifically at the trio of sparklers active above it, with awe, entirely unaware of its immovable position forcing the entire crowd passing by to step over it or go around.

The salesmare, a unicorn because clearly the long-lasting sparklers must be magical, eventually notices the drone and looks down over the counter.

“Hello?” she asks with hesitation, “See anything you like?”

“EVERYTHING!”

“Oh, uh,” the mare blinks, taken aback, “Do you want to buy anything specific?”

Those numbers on the side of the booth must mean the amount of shinies to get the… shin- sparklies! Can 20100 help? Ooof, no, too busy. Gotta choose, gotta choose, gotta choose!

“The sparkly sticks! How many can I get for all this?” 99526 doesn’t even bother counting, flies up to the counter, and opens any leg holes it can recall in its excitement, shaking off several bit coins of varied denominations.

Despite the unicorn mare being weirded out by the changeling’s behavior, it doesn’t seem dangerous so her business instinct wins and she swipes the scattered coins and counts them.

“Sixteen sparklers. Do you really want that man-”

“YES!” 99526 beams, floating in the air.

“Your call,” she shrugs, “Just break the red tip off when you want to light them up. It’s my personal invention that makes it so you don’t need a lighter to set them off.”

“Yaaaaay!”

***

The situation has escalatored.

65536, with its wings tied by a vine wrapped around its body and forelegs tied together with multiple more vines, is standing on a stump using its hind legs with a noose wrapped around its neck and tied to a branch above. It looks from side to side where 36658 and 10013 are balancing in the same precarious position, waiting for the situation to unfold.

After catching them, the natives ignored anything 65536 said and brought them here, to a torch and totem-surrounded clearing hosting a massive block of stone with markings painted on it situated by a sheer cliffside, where an elderly hippogriff wearing a feather headdress began chanting something as the other natives prepared the drones for hanging on a nearby tree. Many more tribe members arrived to watch the spectacle too.

“What do we do? This is costing us precious time,” mentally comments 36658.

“I’ve been wondering this for a while - does that stone thingy look incredibly out of place to you too?” asks 10013.

“Guys, I have an idea. After they kick the wood from under our legs, just stick your tongue out and stare blankly ahead. Don’t blink,” says 65536.

“Why would they do that? It’s hard to keep standing up alread-”

The old hippogriff calls out something, and the three others kick the stumps from under the drones’ legs. The drones stick their tongues out and just keep looking ahead while swinging by their necks as instructed, their protective eye membranes stopping them from needing to blink.

“You know,” ponders 36658, “I kinda like this. My back’s been a bit tight for some time and I think this is helping. Is this some sort of medicine?”

“Yeah, like when I did yoghurt with Miss Cadance,” 10013 agrees, “I felt super stretched afterwards. Tired but a good kind of tired.”

“Uhhhh,” 65536 pauses, “Do you guys want to know the real reason why they’re doing this? It would ruin your mood, I think.”

“You know what? This feels too nice to ruin it,” replies 10013, “We DEFINITELY need to set up some hangers like this back home. After a proper worky time of hauling heavy stuff, you could just relax and streeeetch- ahhh, I think something inside my back just crunched and relaxed.”

With the drones simply hanging by the tough carapace covering their necks, the natives start chanting something rhythmic and dancing from side to side.

“Oo-ga boo-ga oo-ga cha-ga!” the old hippogriff grabs a spear and starts raising it into the air in sync with the rhythm of the chant.

The chant goes on for several minutes.

The chant suddenly stops as the hippogriffs look as one at 10013 with horrified expressions.

10013 realizes that the relaxed feeling all over its body took over and it started humming along and kicking its leg to the rhythm of the native song, all with a happy grin on its muzzle.

“-hmm-ga hmm… goop,” 10013 stops.

“Follow my lead!” orders 65536 suddenly.

The Nightguard drone uses the moment of the natives’ pure shock to dig away its restraints with a flick of its hoof, cut itself from the branch, and advance at the group with its tongue still out, eyes bulged, and the remnants of the noose still hanging from its neck.

“Braaaains…” it groans in a haunting tone, baring its teeth.

“Graaaains…” moans 36658 who lands next and advances on the hippogriff shaman.

“Good thinking! They could be herbivores,” 65536 mentally compliments 36658.

“Ahhhh hah hah haaa…” 10013 laughs as it stretches on the ground, “Let’s do this again…”

That’s the final blow. Those hippogriffs able to control their wings blast off, crashing through the tree canopies, those who can’t just run off, galloping as fast as their legs can carry them.

“What was that all about?” 10013 looks around the now empty clearing.

“I’ll explain when we’re not in a hurry,” says 65536, rushing towards the stone altar, “Let’s search this place before they return.”

“This stone isn’t black like the one on the mountain but it does look just as smooth,” 10013 joins it and puts its ear to the altar. Moments later, it stomps the ground, “Yup, there’s empty space under our hooves, and I think I can hear this big rock buzzing. Stop moving for a moment, I can’t hear properly over all the crunching,” a brief pause later, 10013 nods and starts walking around the altar, eyes narrowed, “I’m pretty sure there should be- ah hah!” it leans close to the altar.

“Astz aven devrit,” a mechanical voice comes out of the altar’s side where 10013 is.

“Nice find, but I thought your chatty rock talked like we do,” comments 65536 as the drones back away.

“I think that it heard us talk and knew what to say. I don’t think it can hear our links,” says 10013, “Hi, chatty rock! We’re changelings and we’d like to enter.”

“Language recognized. Recalibrating for input-”

“Stay right here, chatty rock! We’ll come back as quickly as we can,” 10013 pats the giant stone altar and turns away.

“Do we go back and bring 10101 now?” asks 36658 and 65536 looks at 10013.

“Yup. Let’s move!” 10013 nods, “The first game is bound to be over by now.”

***

The Commander of the Griffon Imperial Legion garrison of the resort is sitting on the roof of a store overlooking the central crossroad where the match between Queen Chrysalis and Shining Armor ends with:

“ONE HAS TO ADMIRE QUEEN CHRYSALIS’ DETERMINATION BUT SHINING ARMOR WINS SIXTY-ONE TO TWENTY-THREE POINTS AT ROUND FIVE, STOMPING GAME ONE!” Trixie’s announcement makes the GIL captain smirk.

May the Emperor damn you to the darkest pits of Tartarus, parasite!

“AND I’M HEARING THAT THE NEXT GAME WILL BEGIN IN TEN MINUTES, SO GRAB SOME REFRESHMENTS AND WE’LL SEE YOU IN THERE. HOPEFULLY, THE QUEEN WILL THINK UP A WINNING STRATEGY BECAUSE EMPEROR SHINING ARMOR CAME READY TO KICK SOME PLOT!”

Normally, someone of a Commander rank wouldn’t bother with guarding duties but the presence of a changeling Queen and the recent developments pose a good reason for him to be present personally. A second GIL griffon flies up to the commander’s post and salutes.

“Report!” says the Commander.

“The ranked hive changelings are all present at the game, but the drones are difficult to get a hold of. We think we’ve got all of them counted, but aside from the one painting portraits at the game, the bigger one with the writing slate, and at least one present in their suite they’re impossible to distinguish and keep running around like hatchlings. Thankfully, some of them wrote their… numbers on them which helps us keep track.”

“And you believe a changeling?” the Commander facepalms.

“Of course not, but we’ve matched reports and sightings and it looks like they’re valid. The little changelings don’t seem particularly smart or malevolent, so the numbers might just be there to help public relations. In reality, though, we have little or no way of figuring out which changeling is which.”

“Understood,” the Commander nods, “Keep up the good work and stay vigilant. Unless their Queen is sandbagging, she’s going to lose whatever this public game is pretty badly, and from whatever little information on her we’ve managed to scrounge up it seems she’s not great at controlling her emotions. She’ll call foul play, do something stupid, and we’ll jump her.”

“Judging by the length of the game, we’ll gather everyone here in the next hour or s-”

*BOOM!*

An explosion rattles the promenade windows and makes both griffons look west where a small mushroom cloud of rainbow smoke is suddenly rising from the promenade, reaching barely to the second floor of the stores.

*BOOM!*

Again and again, more rainbow explosions. Despite an original brief burst of screaming, no one seems to be fleeing now and the onlookers have formed a circle around the source of the explosions, leaving the situation to the gathering GIL soldiers.

***

Mistakes were made.

As 99526 stumbles uncontrollably backwards along the road one level above the promenade, the only thought crossing its mind again and again is:

Mistakes were made.

If there’s a good side to its current situation it’s that, quite probably, it is drawing attention to itself.

“Nonononono- achoo!” it sneezes again, reflexively covering its muzzle with both forelegs covered in lit sparklers.

*BOOM!*

There isn’t much pressure in the ensuing explosion, but there certainly is a lot of smoke and color.

“CEASE!” 99526 hears a forceful male voice.

“I’m try-” the drone breathes in for an answer, which immediately makes the smoke from the numerous sparklers assault its nostrils again, “Ach-”

*BOOM!*

At this point, 99526 has no idea what’s happening around it, because the constantly “self-refreshing” colorful smoke hasn’t cleared up in a while. However, a small change comes in the form of a string of annoyed voices drawing closer.

“Hey, what are you-?!”

“Stop pushing!”

99526 opens its mouth again and something dry is gently slapped all over it.

“-PFRRBRBRBR!”

Next, someone plucks the sparklers out of its foreleg holes one by one.

Finally, the cloud has enough time to dissipate and 99526, now entirely covered by multicolored dust, can see and think again. Namely, it can see Gem holding a piece of cloth over its mouth as well as a wall of armed griffon guards glaring at it, and it can think, once again, that mistakes were made.

“Your Majesty, I’m really sorry, I-” it preventively broadcasts.

“You drew pretty much the entire resort guard regiment here without causing any real damage,” Chrysalis replies immediately in a distracted tone, “Congratulations, now leave me alone. I’ve got an alabaster ass to peg. Metaphorically this time.”

Uhh, I’m not in trouble?

99526 looks at the griffons advance towards it.

Maybe only a little bit.

“Umm, so I bought all these sparklies and I didn’t expect the bit of smoke that came out when I broke the tip off but the first few were okay and then it started itching and… I kinda make a lot of goop without trying, so-”

***

As Shining Armor and Cadance are making their rounds and are being congratulated by various creatures present in big part due to the “influence” of the Grand Duchess of Bloodstone, a rather visibly irritated Chrysalis meets up with 99 and 387 for a little post-match recap.

“Alright, so are his units just that much stronger than mine or what?!” she hisses at 387.

“I do have an answer,” the warrior returns a smug smirk, “but shouldn’t you be asking 99, since this game thing is more her area of ‘expertise’ than mine?”

Chrysalis turns her head, still leaning forward and looking down, although now at the infiltrator.

“Your assessment is correct, Your Majesty, the Equestri units are far stronger than those of the Empire of Ling,” 99 gulps when Chrysalis’ glare doesn’t relent, “That’s the point. They are much stronger but there are fewer of them.”

“But they can wipe out a group of mine! Who designed this shit?” she leans closer to 99.

“Chrysalis, the same strategic genius that led you to losing over half of your hive before even getting through Canterlot’s protective shield is showing. I know that throwing your superior numbers at an entrenched enemy is a time-tested changeling strategy, but you need to remember that those tests results usually came back negative,” 387 chuckles, marking himself as the fresh target, “I would assume you of all creatures would understand that the game isn’t about wiping out your opponent, it’s about objectives. In fact, on a wide map like the first one you were incredibly favored and you still managed to stuff it up by trying to fight all the time. I’m not saying you’ll win against a fairly good tactician that Shining Armor is if you play your faction correctly, but you’ll at least make him take you seriously.”

Chrysalis’ eye twitches.

“Your Majesty,” 99 peeps, “We need to make this game go to the full three matches to give the drones enough time. Maybe it doesn’t matter how the final game goes but you must win this one so… if I may say… take a deep breath and listen to 387.”

Both high ranks get the annoyed growl they expect from Chrysalis, but also the following intake of deep breath, a pause, and finally the Queen asking:

“Alright, smartass. The headache I’d get if we talked mentally for an hour with these damn suppressors on isn’t worth it. Brief me.”

“Step one - cannon fodder. Get Shining’s front line bogged down in melee but use just enough units to buy yourself time. They can’t disengage. Flank his ranged troops with your superior numbers of the most mobile warriors. The groups might still lose due to the sheer power of his units, but the point is to use the rest of your units to capture the objectives before he can and lock his units down so that he can’t contest them. The next map is a spider web of tunnels, so it will be much more difficult and favor him, but you screwed up the easy win for you, now your biggest remaining advantage is Shining underestimating you. And if you straight up can’t win, fight until the end and hope you last long enough.”

Without a word, Chrysalis turns away, returns to her chair at the round table being turned by some servants into the next map, sits down, and closes her eyes.

The distraction drones are doing a better job than I am. That won’t stand!

***

Blueblood is standing at the edge of the slightly sloping roof of the servants’ apartment complex, looking three floors down at the paved road. He knows he shouldn’t be here, the roof hatch in the back isn’t locked just to test the determination of airborne lockpickers. Still, even he can use teleportation across unprotected, very short distances. All the lights are concentrated on the promenade this late in the evening, and the road underneath is lit only by the occasional lamp mostly for ambiance. Just a step forward would release him. This far from Equestria, his ‘accident’ would give everyone some time to think of a story to tell his aunt which wouldn’t break her heart.

Just a step…

“Hi, BB!” a cheery voice with a hint of careful consideration from the back doesn’t even make Blueblood flinch.

“Hello, 65536,” he says back without turning around.

“Whatcha doing?”

“Thinking.”

“You know, that’s not always healthy. We, drones, know. Sometimes thinking gets you munched.”

“If I didn’t jump before I’m sure not going to jump now,” Blueblood sits down.

“Why didn’t you?” 65536 walks over and sits down next to him.

“It’s not high enough,” Blueblood shrugs nonchalantly, “I’d probably survive with all legs broken and then you’d have to haul me around in a cart like a nugget. I want to be less trouble, not more.”

“And now the real reason?” 65536 nudges Blueblood’s side with its head.

“Why are you so much smarter than you look or sound?” asks Blueblood, “Besides, where were you all this time?”

“You know what? If you answer my question I’ll answer yours,” 65536 happily beams at him when he looks sideways at it, “Two for one, right? You’re a tough negotiator. A true deal-maker. Diplomat beyond-”

“Oh shut it,” Blueblood rolls his eyes as 65536 doesn’t stop smiling. The drone’s happiness is contagious because, despite it being fully able to lie or at least spin things, its heart… something about it in general… it’s just clear that if it’s messing with you then it’s for your own good. Not for its own sense of what is good and right, just like everypony else, but generally accepted, common definition of good. And that’s why he answers, “I didn’t jump because… I couldn’t find a reason to. No reason to go back and start doing something, anything, but also no reason to take the step. Before, I thought I didn’t want to be a drain anymore, but without my titles and the maintenance cost of the property, the meager stipend I get to just survive is no burden to the crown nor my aunt. I am no one, I don’t think I’m afraid to just jump, everything is behind me, and nothing I do right now matters. There’s freedom in that realization. I can jump whenever, so why not try some stuff out and see where my tipping point really is? Is it when I run out of money? Is it when I decide that there’s really nothing I can get interested in? Is it when it finally hits me that I can’t tap some muscular zebra booties whenever I want? Life needs to be about living, not just… existing for another empty day,” Blueblood chuckles and pats 65536’s head, “Thanks. Gem’s way of helping would be trying to keep me stuffed full of homemade pills until I came to this realization or my brain melted. I think you just being you is the better kind of therapy.”

“Didn’t I just tell you that thinking too much isn’t healthy?” 65536 pokes him.

“We can’t all be perfect like you drones,” Blueblood shrugs, “Now stop trying to wriggle out of your answers.”

“I was not!” 65536 gasps indignantly and puffs out its cheeks at the unicorn briefly before giggling and losing all seriousness again, “Jokes aside, I promised to answer, so here goes. I’m not sure how a drone would even look smart, maybe a top hat and glasses? I guess because I don’t try to look smart then it must be easy to be smarter than not smart at all. Makes sense?”

“The worst part is that it does,” Blueblood sighs.

“Oookay? Well, that part about being smarter than I sound… it took me some time to realize that because we, drones, never really talk back home, I mean in the hive-”

“You don’t talk at all?” Blueblood tilts its head.

“No, that’s not… uhh, we talk but we don’t speak like you do. Or at least we didn’t until recently when 387 told the guys to talk out loud when not in a hurry just to practice. But that’s not all, we don’t even talk completely with sounds. This is really difficult to explain, sorry. It took me years to figure out why ponies looked at me weird sometimes and that was after Miss Fury transferred her language knowledge to me and with Luna around to practice with.”

“Take your time. I’m not in a hurry.”

“What we think we say out loud isn’t always all we mean to say or in a way we mean to say it. We buzz a bit, we send out some information through our hive links, we convey some things through body language -you ponies do that part too, so that’s okay. We just do it differently- and only a part is through words. Am I making sense or am I babbling?”

“Honestly, considering your species, what you said was entirely understandable. It’s all about practice then?”

“Pretty much,” 65536 nods, “It helps if other changelings are in hive link range, even if they don’t have the knowledge you’re looking for- why are you laughing?” the drone doesn’t take offense but is visibly puzzled.

“Nothing, nothing,” Blueblood stops chuckling, “I just thought about how court ponies are exactly the opposite - the more of them there are together, the dumber they get,” he shakes his head, “What about my final question? As far as this trip goes, you or Gem have always been without pouncing distance in case I picked up something dangerous and… you know.”

“I’m not allowed to tell you because it’s a secret.”

“You said you’d answer.”

“I just did.”

Faced with the completely honest expression of the drone, Blueblood concludes that he, in actuality, doesn’t care at all about the answer, and he stands up.

“Can I ask you a favor?”

“Sure,” 65536 nods.

“In light of my fresh… outlook, I figured out one thing I want to do, but I must do it alone. Me… as myself.”

“Promise to think more like a drone if the bad ideas come back?”

“It could be a step up from thinking like myself,” Blueblood smirks and heads off towards the locked roof hatch, “I might give it a shot.”

Day 9 - The Wobbly-leg Frogger: 3/9

“Are you okay, 99380?”

To the surprise of anyone initiated into the nature of changelings, 99380’s usually easily accessible and clear hive link feels significantly muted. The drone itself, however, seems to be having the time of its life attempting to eat a lollipop which originally had to be the size of a grown draft stallion’s hoof despite a patch of grass, some sand, and a bit of dirt sticking to it.

“MMHMMHMHM!” 99380 turns to approaching 10013 and immediately jumps to hug it, narrowly avoiding poking its eye out with the lollipop stick, “MMHM?!”

Only now does the drone realize that its mouth is glued shut, and its hive link lights up to its full power again.

“I’M SO GLAD YOU’RE BACK! I fired a boomstick and I rode a boat and I went REALLY FAST when 99111 showed me how and I bought this huuuge nom that’s so good even after I dropped it- wait, not important right now. How did your big thing go? What’s that around your neck?”

“I think we found the entrance,” replies 10013 mentally, “36658 went to tell 10101 while I was following your link. I need to contact everyone. Well, not 65536 anymore because it said it had its own thing to take care of.”

“I’m absolutely ready for it!” 99380 attempts in vain to pull the lollipop out of its mouth again, fails, salutes instead and glues its foreleg to its forehead. Thankfully, at least that comes off with some effort. A moment later, the mental presence of all hive drones strengthens.

“Good news, everydroney! We found the talking rock. 36658 is grabbing 10101-”

“Done, explained, ready!” replies 36658, “10101 confirmed that what we found should be the entrance, or at least it should be very close to it.”

“Perfect. Does anyone need to swap out? I’ll share the map with you so anyone can go.”

“Sorry, can’t!” replies 20100, “A big griffon lady made me draw a picture in return for bringing two hundred griffons to the Queen’s game. By the way, if anyone needs some shinies then just come over. My leggos are heavy from all the shiny rocks and I’m getting tired.”

“I think you should go again, 10013,” says 36658, “I know that if there’s someone able to distinguish between us it would be better if you swapped too, but if there’s a drone who must recognize if something you see down there would be useful for us as a whole then it’s you.”

“Ummm, can I go? Pleeeease?” 99111 chimes in, “10101 might be able to explain what we see based on the blueprints it’s been drawing for us. Plus I really, really want to see some inventions and anything that could help us too. Please?”

“36658? I think it would be better if you came too, since the natives weren’t exactly friendly and you can at least fight a bit. Better than I can and definitely better than 99111,” comments 10013.

“I did nothing, and we’re not allowed to harm anyone anyway. 65536 is the only one who doesn’t panic and can disable a baddie without hurting them too badly. It’s fine, let 99111 come with you, as long as it promises not to get carried away and to shut up and obey no matter what. Plus, you said it yourself - I’m the more recognizable drone so I should be seen around throughout the evening.”

“I CAN TOTALLY DO THAT!” 99111 replies immediately.

“Gotcha! 99111, meet me at the bridge crossing the ravine to the northwest as soon as you can,” 10013 pings a hive mind map location, “36658, can you lead 10101 there? I don’t think it’s very sneaky and it might need some guidance. We might also need you to create a distraction in case someone is following us as we leave,” a thought crosses its mind, “And put your vine hanger neck thingy on 99111. Maybe if the hippogriffs see us again and know we’re the familiar guys they’ll be friendlier.”

“Will do.”

“I think you’ll be fine. Just go as quickly as you can!” 99526 speaks out for the first time, “I kinda did the distracting thing a bit too much and now there are one... two… thirteen armed griffons around me making sure I don’t sneeze again. The leader guy too, and I think he’s trying to start a band. He keeps asking about tenorists- 99380, do you know any tunes we could sing to and test it?”

“There are a few griffons playing near the Queen’s game. We can ask them,” replies 99380.

“99526, I’ll be right there. I can make it before 10101-”

“No no no,” 99526 immediately stops 10013, “You gotta do the big thing, and the griffons aren’t exactly mean, they’re just loud. And if they bring more, that’s even better for you.”

10013 grits its teeth. A drone might be in need of help, the high ranks are too busy to solve it, but there is a greater goal on the horizon.

“A leader’s purpose isn’t to micromanage and to solve problems for everyone, it is to give everyone enough space and support so that they can each do their part.”

10013 freezes. The unidentifiable voice just came through a hive link, but no one else reacts. Did anyone else even hear it?

Back in the real world, 99380 pokes 10013 with the lollipop stick. When 10013 blinks and shakes its head,10013 points its foreleg northeast with a “Mmmhm!”

10013 takes a deep breath, pats 99380’s head, and rushes off.

***

20100 is sitting on a bench with a satisfied smile, watching the crowd and listening to the play-by-play of the freshly started second match. “The picture” is finished, displayed on the easel next to the bench, and that Clara lady ran off to inform the Grand Duchess. So far, 20100 hasn’t taken any more painting requests due to it feeling its love reserves diminish and its persistent headache caused by the incessant chatter of the crowd as well as its concentration on drawing in a way it’s never drawn before.

Maybe I should use one of my points for a refill? Probably not. The high ranks are super busy right now.

It yawns and closes its eyes.

Something touches its shoulder.

“Wazzawho-notsleepytimeyet!” it blurts out, blinking and quickly looking around.

The Grand Duchess is examining the painting side by side with a faded blonde, dark grey, bespectacled earth pony stallion while Clara was the one to wake it up. The Duchess and the earth pony trade muffled remarks, the earth pony nods, and points to several places of the painting one by one.

“Hey, changeling,” Clara leans close and whispers loudly enough to be barely audible over the ambient noise, “Thanks for not ratting me out. The good time offer still stands if you’re interested,” she winks and nods sideways towards the painting, “but the Duchess would like a word with you right now.”

20100 isn’t sure what rats she’s talking about but catches on to the last part and stands up on the bench to be at least eyes-to-neck with the Duchess and the stallion who now seems to be talking non-stop, at least until the Duchess raises a talon, shutting him up.

“Changeling,” the Duchess looks down at 20100, “Not only have you fulfilled your end of the bargain, you have successfully managed to impress Trestle here,” she glances at the earth pony, “I believe our business is finished to the satisfaction of us both then?”

“Uhh, yup,” 20100 nods, “The griffons you sent here will stay until the end of the match, right? I kinda need that,” it looks up at her with uncertainty.

“Of course. That was the deal,” the Duchess nods, snaps her talons, and one of the griffons accompanying her carefully takes the canvas off, “And because you seem to be doing a service to the stained, to say the least, reputation of your kind I feel gracious and I present you with the opportunity to discuss your art with a name renowned in the right circles.”

20100 is entirely lost in the overly polite “court speak”, so it just carefully replies with a smile:

“You are very gratuitous, Miss Duchess.”

“Gracious,” Clara corrects it.

“Grey shoes,” 20100 repeats with a brief glance to the griffoness’ legs.

The Duchess narrows her eyes but, like many confused others before her, can’t read anything but pure honesty and some uncertainty regarding its current situation from the drone’s face. In the end, she decides to let it go and just says:

“We’re leaving.”

Her servants clear a path for her and she vanishes into the crowd on the promenade, leaving 20100 with her two companions.

“Oof, I guess I should get back to work then,” 20100 stretches its forelegs.

“Wait a moment!” Clara leans to its ear and whispers, “Find me tomorrow in the Bloodstone delegation’s bungalow and I’ll rock your world.”

She rushes off immediately after.

“Hey, hey, hey hey hey! The changeling is done painting!” someone calls out, and 20100 finds itself surrounded by griffons as Trestle gets pushed backwards through the crowd, yelling:

“TOMORROW! PAINTING! ROOM 218!”

“Suuuure!” 20100 calls back, waving over the pushing and shouting.

“Changeling-”

“-interested in one of your-”

“-paintings-”

“-choose your reward-”

I’m gonna need a lot of sleepy time after this.

***

Unlike when the drones were escorting 10101 to the resort, the jungle trip quickly clears up that 10101 isn’t made for speed. On top of that, the same goes for 99111 and even 10013 is pretty tired from running this route for the third time. Despite that, the group makes a good time now that they know exactly where to go, and without having to search the undergrowth again they reach the altar site in only a little longer than the first time. Unfortunately, the natives have audibly resumed their singing, dancing, and chanting, and without 65536 there’s only one idea that comes to 10013’s mind as the trio watches the proceedings unnoticed from a bush.

“99111, you come with me,” and in a whisper it adds, “10101, stay here.”

The robot nods, and 10013 enters the clearing. It’s critical that it chooses its words carefully, and-

Think, brain. Think, brain!

“CATBIRD PONIES!” 99111 rushes forward, the noose swinging around its neck.

Think-

“Braaaaaain!” 10013 rushes after 99111.

The elderly shaman’s eyes bulge, the singing stops instantly, and then one of the hippogriff warriors screeches a word in a high pitch unbecoming of someone of his size and muscularity.

“Oh crap-” says the shaman.

“I KNEW YOU GUYS HAD TO SPEAK NORMAL!” 10013 points its foreleg accusingly at him and charges ahead.

“Don’t run!” yells 99111, reaching for the tail of a late-escaping hippogriff who was frozen in terror, and only makes things worse.

However, the moment of true horror comes when 99111 flies up into the air. The screams and shrieking as the hippogriffs realize that the air isn’t safe follow everyone shooting away as fast as they can. The shaman drops his spear and flies off for the second time today. Moments later, the jungle falls deathly silent, and 10101 walks out of its hiding place behind a tree, approaching the stone altar.

“Unexpected,” it comments, “Although it seems that they do remember what changelings are.”

99111 joins 10013 who points at a place on the altar where it saw the slot earlier, and 10101 puts its hoof to it. A ray of light appears, runs from left to right seemingly “behind” the slot, and the entire altar splits in half, one side moving to the left and one to the right, revealing a staircase as wide as the altar itself. Unlike at the service entrance tunnel, at least some wall lights are still working, not that it matters for anyone present.

“Lead the way 10101,” says 10013 while 99111 is staring into the tunnel with just the widest smile, eyes darting from the smooth walls, over the stairs covered in some kind of raised grid pattern, to the bright light deeper underground.

They descend only a few steps before 10101 turns around, touches a panel on the side of the tunnel, and the split altar reassembles itself above them as if nothing ever happened to it. Unlike with the service tunnel, the stairs in this one are fairly short before the floor turns into stone covered by a raised criss-cross pattern of ridges. Their descent stops immediately after at the one unbroken light and a heavy metal door which the drones would consider a wall had they not seen it before at the end of the service tunnel. This must lead to the complex itself.

“Is everything okay, 10101?” asks 10013, “Do we need to be quiet, or…?”

10101 stops by a panel next to the door and puts its hoof to it again. The panel beeps and the door opens. The robot peeks inside and enters a large room with two exits on the left and right walls each and one across the room from them. It’s deathly quiet and, at least to the drones, it smells of nothing other than dust in the air.

“Everything looks in order and we haven’t triggered any alarms,” says 10101, “I think we’re free to proceed safely. The Reforger laboratory isn’t far. Feel free to look around, just don’t touch anything without asking me first.”

“Eee hee hee!” 99111 squee’s happily before rushing off towards the nearest wall light, “Can you tell me how to make shinies like this one later? I mean, we don’t need them but they’re pretty.”

“The circuitry is beyond the technological level of even today’s griffons, so no,” replies 10101 calmly.

“But the griffons have shinies. Same with ponies,” 99111 moves along the wall as 10013 and 10101 steadily cross the room.

“These lights require dramatically less energy and last much longer. Pony lights usually use magic, bioluminescent objects, or flammable materials.”

“I wonder,” 10013 interjects as 99111 takes a breath to immediately ask about something else, “Would it be easier if you pointed out things we could use back home, namely things that you could explain to us?”

“That’s what I was doing with 99380, but now that we’re here I think I can explain certain aspects of building underground facilities to you.”

“Such as?” asks 99111, rejoining them as they leave the room and enter a long hallway with broken glass windows on the sides showing dark rooms full of entirely unidentifiable objects.

“The pattern of ridges on the floor, for example, serves to prevent slipping on otherwise very smooth surfaces such as polished rocks. It also makes it easier to move using tyres or specific types of treads- for you it would be cartwheels.”

“You’re right,” 10013 nods, “Slipping is pretty dangerous if we’re fleeing from monsters, although we don’t polish the floors too much outside of the core tunnels we use all the time.”

“Believe it or not, we are- were likely used to facing similar underground threats as you, although we only retreated to briefly regroup before clearing up any hostile areas. Look up,” says 10101 and both drones look at the ceiling which is slightly narrower than the floor, “The walls slope towards the center so that no swarming creatures can climb the walls easily.”

“Oookay, THAT is useful!” 10013 shuffles over to the wall, “Makes me wonder if the Queen would mind if we spent some time polishing the walls and making the more used tunnels all slanty like this.”

“There are numerous significant design decisions which aren’t apparent on the first glance,” says 10101, pointing at a door frame, one of many in the long hallway which are seemingly without doors, “The door reinforced frames are critical in case of instability, such as an earthquake. On top of that, they are load-bearing for the complex and in case of a breach they can be detonated and cut off entire sections of the laboratories.”

“I’m not sure how we could use this. We kinda just dig tunnels to where the Queen wants us to and where we feel the ceiling won’t crumble,” says 10013.

“There is fairly complex material research math involved, but even an educated guess can help you dig direct tunnels through softer materials which would otherwise collapse immediately using proper reinforcement instead of taking long detours.”

“Ohhhh,” 10013 measures the distance between the visible frames, “We could make the hive a lot more compact.”

“Next up-”

They walk, more and more building elements being revealed by 10101. From the locations and sizes of air vents and how to dig them effectively without advanced tools, to methods of draining moisture from tunnels and new dig sites. 10013 listens to everything, its mind working overtime on ways to use the presented knowledge. Of course, everything depends on whether the Queen would consider the spent time worth it over losing easily replaceable new drones.

99111 is clearly more interested in gadgets and any “device” or a “thingy” it can see, but the strange voice in 10013’s head returns once more with an advice which 10013 agrees with entirely.

“Get the basics right and the rest will follow.”

Author's Note

I have no buffer anymore, so I'm not sure I'll be able to make the next week's update in time.

I wanted these chapters to be longer to give a bigger, connected chunk of what's happening instead of 1k pieces but that's the price.

Day 9 - The Wobbly-leg Frogger: 5/9

Without the guidance of the hive mind clock announcing sleepy time to be over, the drones just sleep and sleep after yesterday. However, as usual, once the first drone wakes up, the hive link presence wakes the rest as well, and the suite is soon full of squeaky yawning. 10013 forces itself to at least sit up, and even that little effort makes its head spin and taxes its breathing.

Whoa, I’m pretty low on love.

By the time it steadies itself the other drones start making their entrances. 99380 waves at it, winces, and rubs its forehead.

“Are you okay… buddy?” asks 10013, running out of breath mid-sentence.

“I think so,” 99380 forces a smile, “I’m just hungry after all that memorizing and stuff from yesterday, and running around after that.”

“Same here,” 10013 smiles back.

With rustling of laundry, the door of a doorside wardrobe opens, revealing Smiley who stretches-

*Bonk!*

-and hits its head on a shelf. It tries to convey its disappointment to the shelf with a quick frown aimed towards it but the shelf doesn’t budge so Smiley wisely backs away from its hiding place without further antagonizing it. A surface check of its hive link tells 10013 that Smiley is healthy, fed, and in a shape any drone could be jealous of if they were the kind to get jealous. What surprised 10013, though, is that Smiley looks straight at it, trots over, and hugs it, transferring a small amount of love its way. A drone refilling a drone is like splitting one shot glass into two, so 10013 doesn’t feel any less hungry afterwards, but at least its breathing stabilizes.

99111 and 10101 enter from the heretic bedroom, and 99111 says:

“Good morn- uhh, does it still count as morning?” it glances towards the curtains covering the balcony door, “Or am I completely wrong? I feel a bit dizzy… and head-hurty… and hungry.”

99380 slides the curtains open, revealing a day in full swing, maybe even a later part of the day.

“No, it does look like we slept through a good chunk of the day,” 10013 checks its own internal clock which confirms the definitive presence of the afternoon.

36658 shuffles in last from the fanatic bedroom and senses 10013’s almost instinctive intrusion through its hive links.

“I’m fine, 10013,” it grumbles, “Although I’d like to take today a bit easier.”

“That’s for sure,” 20100 walks out of the bedroom in tow, “My front leggos are super stiff.”

Something doesn’t add up in 10013’s head but it takes a moment in its exhausted state to figure out what’s wrong.

“Guys, where is 99526?” it asks.

“Oh goop!” 20100 facehoofs, “The armed guard griffons took it away after its sneezing fit during the game. We should tell the high ranks.”

10013 recaps the overall bad state of the drones, and decides the course of action:

“You guys rest, you deserve it after such a good job yesterday. I’ll go ask the high ranks what we can do about 99526’s situation. If I need anything I’ll call you through 99380.”

A series of scratches later, Smiley pokes 10013 with its tablet.

[?Out]

“Sure you can go outside,” 10013 nods, “I meant that whoever was still tired could stay here and relax.”

[:)]

As usual, Smiley flies off holes-know-where via the balcony.

“I gotta head out too,” 20100 gives its aching forelegs an apologetic look, “I promised the painter pony and that good time griffon lady, Miss Clara, who turned out to be a friend of this other super important griffon lady, that I would meet them and now I don’t have much of the day left to do it,” it rubs its chin.

“No problem,” 10013 nods, and the two drones leave the suite the normal way and, just as they’re about to split up in the hallway, 10013 freezes as an idea crosses its mind, “Buddy, can we ask your griffon friends to help us get 99526?”

“It has to be worth a try,” 20100 shrugs, “You can visit Miss Clara while I visit Mister Turtle- Tussle- painter as I promised.”

“Good idea. Where could she be?”

“She said the Bloodstone delegation water bungalow. You’ll have to ask around the beach.”

“Perfect, thanks. Good luck with your painting.”

“You too with saving 99526! Bye!”

On the first glance, the answer might seem callous and uncaring about the fate of a drone buddy, but if 99526 was in immediate trouble it could still connect to 99380 and call for help.

With that exchange over, the two finally split.

***

Room 218.

20100 hesitates for a brief moment with its hoof in the air before knocking. After all, this Mister Tussle is supposed to be a real painter who’s working for the Duchess! Its foreleg acts as if on its own and finishes the gesture.

*Knock knock knock!*

Well, that’s exactly what 20100 was doing last night too…

He’s working full time for the Duchess or something, no one was exactly clear on the subject.

No matter, he’s supposed to know painting stuff and he seemed interested in 20100’s work. Just like when 65536 showed it how to layer paints to make the colors look different from a distance, 20100 is bound to learn much more from a real painter in person.

The door opens, revealing the earth pony in question.

*Squee-!*

“-I mean hello!” 20100 beams, “I’m 20100. We met last night when I was busy drawing and you said you wanted to meet me.”

“Of course,” the earth pony peers over his rectangular glasses and leans closer to examine the drone while offering a hoof to shake and giving 20100 a chance to get a closer look, “My name is Trestle. Umm, as I said I paint. I’m a painter. Don’t mind the black eyes, it’s a… medical condition.”

Trestle is a grey-coated earth pony of a slender build with a darker blond mane and tail. Even to a social behavior novice like 20100, he doesn’t seem like a member of the nobility. The only visually remarkable thing about him are his pitch black corneas, as if he either didn’t have pupils or as if he had pupils that covered the whole cornea like a cat targeting its prey.

Something in those black eyes stirs, some entity watching through the painter focuses its entire attention towards the drone. Silly abstract concept of strangeness hits the impenetrable brick wall that is 20100’s excited smile and unknowingly kneading forelegs, and withdraws, knowing not to toy with powers beyond its understanding. Even demons intruding the mortal realms and possessing their souls know not to mess with a pure force of fate that is… a drone.

“Heya, Mister Tressle!” 20100 boops Trestle’s foreleg with its snoot, “I draw. I’m a drawer! Don’t mind the blue eyes, it’s a changeling condition.”

“I- that’s not- how language works- I mean that’s not a word in ponish. I mean it is but it means something entirely different,” Trestle is slowly running through the mental checklist of weird inconsistencies that anyone attempting to communicate with a drone must go through.

20100 tilts its head.

“Weird. It makes perfect sense to me. Maybe it’s a word in dronish tee em, we call ‘em like we see 'em!”

“Tee em? Trademark?” Trestle’s voice raises in pitch in a way of someone attempting to not just say ‘whaaaaat?’.

“Is that what tee em means?” 20100 rubs its chin.

“Yes! What did you think it meant?”

20100 makes a grabbing motion.

“THAT’S MINE!”

“That’s not what it- well, technically- it does mean that but- aaaaahhhhh!” Trestle turns around before he has a droneness-induced brain hemorrhage and enters his suite with a deep, calming breath, “Come in. Let’s talk about something that makes sense - painting.”

“Eeeeee!” 20100 follows him inside.

***

It’s another beautiful day on the Ataraki island in the mind of a Griffon Imperial Legion Private leisurely strolling down the sloping road. His shift is almost over, all that’s left is to reach the promenade and make one final round along it and then back up along the western edge of the resort. Finally, he’ll get out of this stuffy armor -even though it’s only more a leather jacket over a white shirt because anyone in real armor out during the day would probably spontaneously combust- and go up for a swim in the sea. If he gets extra lucky, he might even impress some lady with his impressive physique. Or maybe one of the zebra bodyguards he’s seen around from time to time.

“Hello, Mister catb- griffon!” a voice from below his knee-height pulls the Private out of his steadily steaming up imagination.

Ffffuuuuu- why did it have to be one of the monsters?

“Go aw-” the Private stops himself in time. They might be wild, murderous, parasites, but they are here on invitation of some clearly senile noble from Equestria, “What do you want?”

He doesn’t stop walking, though, forcing 10013 to trot along.

“Your, uhh, friends took 99526 away last night due to some dangerous sneezing. Could you help me sort the situation out or at least tell me where 99526 could be, please?”

Why is the monster so polite? It would be so much easier to tell it to piss off if it wasn’t clearly trying so hard. Or if it wasn’t so tiny.

“The jail is on the northeast edge of the resort if you want to talk to the Captain. There isn’t a traditional GIL fortress on the island-” he stops. The monster asked a question which is now answered in regard to politeness and diplomacy. Time to get it to leave him alone, “The explosive changeling didn’t cause any physical damage from what I heard, but I doubt they’ll just let it go. I assume they’ll let it out once you’re supposed to return to Equestria.”

“But we’re leaving in two days!” objects 10013 after a moment of counting, “They can’t keep 99526 locked up all that time.”

“They absolutely can,” the griffon chuckles before noticing that 10013 stopped, “Are you done pestering me?”

“Yes, Mister griffon. Thank you for the info,” says 10013, turns around with an exhausted sigh, looks up the hill, and starts running again.

If only the monster wasn’t so… un-monstery!

***

10013 stops in front of the only building it’s seen around here with bars on the windows. A brass plaque above its reinforced metal door simply reads GIL, and there's a faint presence of 99526’s hive link coming from the area.

“Huh, is this it?” the drone mutters to itself, “I thought jail was spelled differently.”

The door wins the following impromptu staring contest and, with a shrug, 10013 flies up to the handle and pushes it. The heavy door budges only a little, and 10013’s wings have to work overtime to eventually crack it open. 10013 flies through before it closes on its own and crashes on a smooth, tiled floor, gasping for air.

“...I really hope… this was the right door…”

Several hoof- pawsteps stop by and a not particularly gentle foreleg grabs 10013 by the back of its neck and pulls it up to face a frowning griffon clearly not pleased by 10013’s presence.

“What do you want here, changeling?” asks the griffon wearing nothing but a badge reading ‘Captain’, some numbers the meaning of which 10013 can’t identify, and an engraving of talons closed to a fist.

“Uh, hello!” 10013 remains polite and hanging like a cat being held by someone behind it, just like a drone who doesn’t want to get eaten should, “Mister Captain one one four three nine eight, do you have an idea where my friend 99526 could be? It’s a drone that looks like me and I heard it was brought here last night for some serious sneezing.”

The captain narrows his eyes.

“The changeling in question was detained on charges of terrorism and property damage,” he states flatly, “On the request of Equestrian Paladin Grandmaster it’s not in a solitary cell nor chained to the wall, nor has it been punished further in a manner of befitting our laws. Our current official position is that it will be released by the end of your visit to the island.”

“Can I talk to it?” asks 10013, “It might be hungry or-”

“No,” the Captain shakes his head with zero signs that he’s regretting any part of the situation, “The severity of its crimes forbid it.”

10013 sighs. Without much activity, a drone can survive with no feeding for far longer than the two remaining days, but keeping 99526 locked up would be counterproductive to their mission of exploring the opportunities the world has to offer.

“Thank you for telling me,” it forces a smile, “I’d like to go now, if you don’t mind?” it shifts in the grasp of the second griffon and turns its head as far as it can. The griffon holding it looks at the Captain who nods, and 10013 is let go.

The drone stops in front of the heavy door and whimpers quietly before asking:

“Could you open the door, please? It’s super heavy.”

The two griffons exchange looks, pondering torturing the changeling further, but the desire to get the monster of old tales as far away as possible wins, and the non-Captain lets 10013 outside where the drone finally breathes a sigh of relief.

It might not be able to read pony minds like the high ranks can, but sensing emotions that are out in the open is still a biological instinct and 10013 feels absolutely certain that leaving the GIL station is an achievement akin to successfully fleeing a leggy spinner cavern. However, that does mean getting 99526 is a priority.

It sits down on a lawn nearby and concentrates.

“99526, can you hear me?”

“Huh? Yeah! Hi, 10013! How are you? You sound tired.”

“Just a little, but that’s not important. Are YOU okay? I’ve just visited the griffons and they’re definitely not letting you out before we’re supposed to return home.”

“Awwww…” 99526’s mental image pouts, “I could use some sleepy time after yesterday, though.”

“Are you hungry or hurt?”

“Yeeah, I sneezed so much I could barely stand,” 99526 chuckles, “All my inside bits are still sore and I could use some love for sure but it’s nothing I couldn’t live with. The griffons just squeezed me a bit and then tossed me here, so no real harm done. I can wait and rest up.”

“That’s good to hear,” 10013 smiles to itself, “But I’ll still try to get you out. There might be a way that won’t get us in trouble.”

“Alrighty!” replies 99526, “But don’t forget to have some fun too, 10013.”

“I’ll try to find some time,” says 10013, “I’ll ask around and hopefully see you later then.”

“Bye!”

10013 looks around for the closest road leading down the slope. It could fly but it really isn’t feeling good.

I guess it’s time to ask 20100’s griffon lady if she can help. Hopefully the griffons will listen to another griffon.

Author's Note

Back to short chapters because that's the best I can do. Too much work and not that much inspiration.

Day 9 - The Wobbly-leg Frogger: 6/9

“Why do you keep glancing at my backside?” asks Trestle as he’s setting up an easel and preparing an area where someone of 20100’s size can paint, “Is it related to changeling feeding?”

“Huh?” 20100’s head twitches and he looks the painter in the eyes, “We don’t eat butts, Mister Tressel, we eat love. No, I was wondering what your markie mark means. It looks like three cards with symbols.”

“Those aren’t cards!” huffs Trestle, looking away and resuming preparing the tools, “Those are paintings.”

“But there are only scribbles on them.”

“They symbolize paintings!”

“They’re all rector- rectum- rectangooglar and taller than wider. Like cards.”

“Paintings can be any shape!”

“Aaaand they’re arranged in a way ponies and griffons hold cards.”

“Accident!”

“Are you suuure?” 20100 rubs its head, “Casino ponies don’t really like me. I’ve been kicked out from one on the ship and I had to be veeeery careful in the resort one when getting us shinies to pay Miss Trixie.”

“I do not own a casino! I do not work for a casino. I don’t even visit casinos!” Trestle’s eye twitches.

“Do you like playing cards?” 20100 narrows its eyes, “...Iwonthoseshiniesfairandsquare…”

“No! We’re not here to talk about cards, we’re here to paint.”

“Paint cards-?” Trestle’s head snaps directly towards 20100 with an audible crack, “Nevermind.”

Trestle grumbles something to himself before looking around at his work. The suite is nearly identical to the drones’ one, but this one looks much cleaner and lived-in. Aside from the momentary lapse of reason when the drones bought every kind of food available in the resort to make goop for Scufflestick figures, they haven’t really used any of the suite’s utilities and left everything where it was originally with the exception of dirt trailed everywhere. Cleaning is still something that happens to other creatures, on direct orders, or by accident. Not that the drones have anything against washing themselves, it’s more that grime and dirt doesn’t harm their carapaces in any way and most usually drops off at some point on its own.

Thankfully, 20100’s still covered in specks of paint from yesterday so it fits the theme of the room already, especially the plastic foil spread all over the floor.

“You’ll have to walk around on that. I can’t cover the chairs in foil particularly well and the easel doesn’t go all the way to the floor to fit your size,” says Trestle, pointing to the table, “What kind of paints do you prefer?”

“Anything that leaves a mark is fine with me,” says 20100, “I liked that white, drawy rock they use in the dining room downstairs but that doesn’t work on canvas. I tried. 65536 showed me these thick, colorful paints, and warned me not to let anypony eat them because they’d get sick. We can eat them and they color our goop, but they taste very bleh.”

“Oil-based paints,” says Trestle, turning his head with a furrowed brow, “I think I’ve got a sealed set somewhere around.”

“Then what do you draw with?”

“Paint, I paint,” the earth pony corrects it, “I can use most paints and styles to a degree, but I specialize in watercolors, or aquarelles as they’re called by creatures attempting to sound fancy.”

“Then you can show me those!” 20100 smiles, “I don’t think I’ve seen colored water before. It usually was that the water was see-through and there was something colorful under it. Wait, no! I did drink some orange, fizzy water on the ship. Was it for painting?”

“I’m going to assume that was a soda and not someone failing to poison a changeling, albeit this close to the Empire you can’t be sure,” comments Trestle, “No, these are watercolors,” he points to a tray on which there is a varied set of colored discs. 20100 immediately leans down, licks a yellow one, and makes a face, “Bleh dust.”

Trestle rolls his eyes and continues, somewhat safe in assuming that the changeling didn’t earn itself an express ticket to a stomach pump.

“You use wet brushes to apply these, hence watercolors. Unlike oil paints, you can’t easily layer them and they mix when they touch so you have to be more careful when applying them or trying to make your own shades. Let me show you first, okay?”

20100 stops crossing its eyes in an attempt to look at its own stuck out tongue to see if it’s yellow, and concentrates entirely on Trestle’s demonstration.

“Sure thing!”

***

Several polite questions later, 10013 finds the Bloodstone delegations’ bungalows. Thankfully, before it has to engage with a duo of armed griffons by the first one, it spots Clara swimming towards the next bungalow and taking the trapdoor inside. Were it not for the changeling ability to share mental images, this search would have taken much longer given that Clara isn’t particularly remarkable and more than half of the resort guests are griffons.

10013 knocks on the correct, guard-lacking door with the duo of griffons guarding the previous bungalow still glaring at it, and immediately hears quick steps approaching from the inside. Not even three seconds later, Clara opens the door, still dripping sea water from head to paws.

“Hi!” she smiles and leans closer to 10013. The drone isn’t good at reading griffon expressions, but her smile does feel somewhat predatory, but she’s gentle as she runs her talon from its muzzle to its neck, “Hmmm, you’re not the changeling I met last night, are you?”

10013 shakes its head.

“No, Miss. 20100 said it promised some painter pony to spend time with him.”

“Hmph, Trestle,” Clara frowns a little, turns around, and tugs at the front of her one-piece swimsuit so that its bottom slides between her cheeks directly in front of 10013’s face, “Come in- umm, what’s your name?”

“10013, Miss,” the drone enters the bungalow and rushes ahead to be in Clara’s field of view, “If you need something painted by 20100 you’ll have to wait, sorry.”

“So you came just to tell me that your friend can’t make it right now?” she tilts her head.

“Yup,” 10013 nods, “But I’d like to ask you something too.”

“Oh?”

“Do you have any idea who might help us get 99526 out of GIL? I heard it scared some visitors last night with explosive sneezing. No one got hurt and it didn’t break anything, I think, but when I visited the GIL they said they wouldn’t let it out.”

To 10013’s surprise, the corner of Clara’s beak curls up and her strange expression turns downright hungry.

“I can help you with that, in fact. Pulling out the Duchess of Bloodstone’s title opens many doors even here,” she lowers her voice and runs her talon under 10013’s chin down its chest, “But it won’t be for free.”

“I can get you some shinies. That shouldn’t be a problem,” 10013’s whole expression perks up, “20100 said you wanted those for a good time the first time you met on the ship.”

Clara chuckles.

“I want something a little different now. I asked around about your kind, and you changelings are interesting. Especially you little ones. So young and full of vigor,” she smirks in a way 10013 would identify as creepy if it had the experience, “I love that.”

“I guess I am little compared to a pony… or a griffon,” ponders 10013, “Young too, you guys live super long!”

“Exactly,” she sits down, spreads her legs, and starts slowly taking her one-piece off, revealing her barrel inch by inch before finally getting it down far enough, standing up, turning around, and sliding the rest off with a swing of her hips. In the end, she stretches like a cat, almost planting her backside on 10013’s face, “Like what you see?” she purrs.

“You are very stretchy,” 10013 nods, staring directly at her to avoid missing any hint regarding what Clara wants. So far, it looks like Miss Cadance’s yoghurt, but 10013 can’t be sure. However, as long as it helps set 99526 free, it’s 10013’s responsibility to do what it can.

“Oh ho ho,” Clara faces 10013 again, “We’ll have to test that properly. Let’s take a shower first, 10013. I hate the sea salt in my fur, and you,” she towers over the drone and runs a talon across its back all the way to its tail stub, leaving behind a mark of scratched off grime, “are a dirty dirty changeling.”

“Sounds neat!” 10013 beams at her.

Getting all clean and freeing 99526? That’s a win-win!

***

Trestle’s suite is dim, only lit by the chandelier as an experiment for 20100 to practice lighting.

“Am done!” announces 20100 with a bright smile.

“That took a lot longer than I expected,” Trestle stands up from the armchair in the back where he’d been studying several canvases he could use to test 20100’s skills, “but let’s see the result.”

“The hard part was figuring out how to mix these runny and blendy paints to get the colors I needed,” 20100 sits down on the table, examining the painting of a chair and a bowl of fruit on it, the most basic of basic painting compositions, “but after that it was just draw- painting,” 20100 shrugs, “I think I like the less runny paints a lot more, though. I had to keep repainting a lot of stuff in the beginning because these paints kept dripping.”

“There are techniques and styles to avoid that but mostly it’s about practice and knowing how much water to use and with what kind of brush-” Trestle stops behind the table and looks over 20100 at the painting, stopping mid-word, “Huh, so the Duchess’ painting wasn’t a fluke…”

The painting of a bowl of fruit would put a tear into a master’s eye. The shading is a near-perfect replica of the real world, with gradients and everything, explaining why it took 20100 so long to finish a simple painting like this.

“Hmmm…” Trestle hums to himself. Something feels off about the picture but he can’t put a hoof on what.

“Is it bad?” asks 20100, “I did my best to make it look like the bowl.”

“No no no,” Trestle shakes his head, “It’s perfect, I just…”

Then it hits the earth pony. Every painting he’d ever seen had its style, visible brush strokes, anything betraying it is, in fact, a painting. This one doesn’t. It is almost a photograph painted by a hoof.

“Hmmm,” he just hums again, unable to voice why what he’s seeing is bothering him. Maybe a different approach would work, “Tell me, 20100, is there anything specific you’d like to learn about painting? I’ve been travelling around Equestria for a long time, exploring the works of old masters from styles to used pigments, and these days I’ve had the opportunity to study old Imperial griffon art on the invitation of the Duchess of Bloodstone, so I think I could teach you some theory because, after seeing this, I’m not sure I could teach you anything about painting itself. You’ve just copied reality so perfectly I don’t know anypony who could do it better.”

20100 ponders it, scratches its head, and absolutely stuns Trestle with:

“Mister Trestle, how do you draw something that you’ve never seen?”

***

387 watches Chrysalis and 99 sitting across each other at the central table of the bungalow with an amused smirk.

“I’m calling bullshit!” Chrysalis bursts out after the dice she’s just rolled show too many ones and twos for her liking.

If it wasn’t clear, the table is covered in Scufflestick miniatures, namely the Empire of Ling facing off against the Equestri but, unlike last night, Chrysalis is going even using the powerful Equestri units with 99 outmaneuvering her using superior numbers of Lings. Granted, Chrysalis has had fairly bad luck regarding her rolls but 99 is playing her heart out and 387 is making a mental tally of tactical mistakes both sides are making which is certainly unfavorable to Chrysalis.

“One emerging idea seems to be that splitting your fire is really, really bad,” comments the warrior.

“Would be fine without this level of shit luck,” Chrysalis shoots him a glare, “Besides, this entire faction must do that or it’ll get swarmed- stop smirking, you smarmy bastard.”

“Told you so las-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence!”

“Fine,” 387 rolls his eyes, “I do admit you’ve been somewhat on the unfortunate side in this match so far, but it’s not as if 99 has been rolling particularly well either.”

“It has been a bit of a wet noodle fight,” 99 nods.

*Knock knock knock!*

The trio look at the door before instinctively checking their mental connections and realizing that with the suppressors on and them being so engrossed in the match they’ve been neglecting all their non-standard senses.

Currently, said senses relay a message that makes 99 jump up from the table with a terrified expression and slam the door open. Behind it, 10013 gives them an exhausted smile which makes green foam drip from its mouth on the ground, and it stumbles forward.

“Your Maj-”

The ground shakes, making the Scufflestick figurines tremble, the glass windows rattle, and 10013 collapse on the carpet. However, while the weak tremor passes, 10013 remains lying on its side, foam dripping from its mouth and its eyes blankly staring ahead.

Day 9 - The Wobbly-leg Frogger: 7/9

What the holes?!” 387 jumps outside through the door, scanning the area for threats and spotting no immediate danger. The only thing he notices are creatures all over the beach still looking around after being quite literally shaken.

“What’s wrong?” asks 99, leaning over 10013.

Chrysalis doesn’t seem as worried as either of the two high ranks as she joins the examination of the drone.

“387, unless we’re being attacked by an army of morbidly obese whorses, get back inside,” she says in a calm and focused tone that’s so unusual for her that the warrior obeys without commenting and closes the door behind himself.

“No idea what the earthquake was about but we’re not in any immediate danger,” he reports, “With the exception of 10013.”

“Poison?” asks 99, swiping her hoof through the foam around its mouth and sniffing it.

“In a sense,” Chrysalis’s horn glows and both high ranks sense her draining 10013’s energy to a critical degree where the drone’s legs instinctively bend and close up to its body as a signal of it dropping into the state of hibernation, “Lust overdose.”

“Lust?” 387 blinks and leans backwards, “What?”

“That’s a thing?” asks 99, earning a raised eyebrow from both Chrysalis and 387.

“I’ve finally figured it out - your rank isn’t 99,” 387 looks at her, “Nowhere near-”

“Later!” Chrysalis barks at 387 after 99 looks at her, “Yes, if a changeling has too much lust and too little love, their body can use it for a big boost of energy at the price of physical damage. Ranked changelings rarely suffer from this because your bodies can use lust better and your overall vastly greater energy capacity means you’ll recognize problematic symptoms of the imbalance long before it cuts you down. A drone, however, that’s out of love who would suddenly gain a large charge of lust would have no way of burning it off and would end up like this,” she pokes 10013.

“Are you saying that someone-” 387 gives 10013 a sideways glance that one could call impressed.

“Yes, someone has very recently screwed our drone in the interesting sense of the word,” Chrysalis nods.

“Will it be okay?” asks 99.

“Of course,” Chrysalis waves her hoof, “I’ve drained it dry and I’ll feed it a proper mix of love and lust which won’t hurt it, and I don’t doubt we’ll learn who’s the interested paramour. 387, I can feel you glaring at me and I swear that if you say something along the lines of ‘Chrysalis, please do not kill anyone’ I will punch you in the dick using your ballsack as nunchucks.”

“Your Majesty,” starts 387, which makes both mares look at him, “I was going to ask the exact opposite, specifically to let me teach whoever did this a lesson.”

“Denied,” Chrysalis smirks at 387, “What? Are you only now finally feeling a fraction of what I feel when someone screws with my hive because it, for once, happened to the drones you oh so favor?”

The warrior opens his mouth and shuts it without a word…

…because she’s right on the money.

“Thought so,” Chrysalis chuckles, grabbing 10013 by its hind leg, raising it into the air and turning it around, “At least you have the strength of character to not lie to me about it. No, 387. 10013 will be okay. I don’t see any physical damage that would hint at a physical assault and rape so I’m guessing someone just wanted to have sex with a changeling and the three of us were too scary. Or they were a pedo and thought the drones were our young, which might be way more likely on this island full of nobles. Whatever the case is, we can't afford to act out so we’ll take this event, shove it into the smallest mental compartment we have, and forget it happened until we’re home where we’ll think about things without the imminent threat of getting double-teamed in the ass by paladins and griffons.”

She unceremoniously drops 10013, breathing out a small cloud of seemingly living green mist which engulfs the drone’s head before being absorbed. Moments later, 10013’s tightened up body relaxes and the drone blinks.

“...ow…” is all it groans.

They wait until 10013 pushes itself up into a sitting position and looks at them one by one with confusion and growing worry, stopping on Chrysalis and immediately trying to look as small as possible.

“What happened?” it asks.

“Is your name Queen Chrysalis?” asks Chrysalis.

“Umm, no? It’s 10013, I think.”

“Then I believe you just asked the question that Queen Chrysalis wanted to ask of a drone that just stumbled in here and passed out in a pool of goo,” she points at the green circle on the carpet.

“Oh…” 10013 blinks, “Did I do that? I’m sorry, I’ll get a bubble brick and-”

“10013, is something wrong with your ears?” Chrysalis leans closer, showing her teeth, but to the other high ranks her voice sounds tame, “Because I just asked you what happened, several seconds have passed, and you still haven’t answered.”

“Yesyourmajesty!” 10013 nods before gasping, “Noyourmajestymyearsarefine!”

“Could you stop scaring the drone?” asks 387.

“It nearly gave the three of us a heart attack. I think it’s fair,” Chrysalis smirks and boops 10013, “No more messing around then, 10013. Tell us what you were doing over the past few hours.”

10013 nods again and checks its internal timer.

“I’ve only been awake for a while, Your Majesty!” it starts reporting in the drawn out string response of a nervous drone, “I checked up on the others and most were super hungry after last night and then I realized that 99526 was still in the GIL so I went there and they refused to let it go and there was this Miss Clara who wanted to show 20100 a good time but 20100 said it was busy drawing so I went to tell her and she said she would help me with 99526 but she wanted to take a shower together and then she asked me if I could grow various jiggly bits and then it was like when we repaired the radio and had to plug its cable into these two holes in the wall to make it work but we did it over and over and I thought I was hurting her but she said to not stop and eventually we were done and she helped me get 99526 out of GIL and then I started feeling sick but I had to go here and tell you and things went woozy and… I woke up.”

Some deciphering later, Chrysalis simply asks:

“So 99526 is free?”

“Yup!”

“This Clara chick didn’t hurt you?”

“Nope. I was pretty confused, though.”

“Did you catch any filthy griffon STDs?”

“Were we supposed to catch things too? What’s an ass tee dee, anyway, Your Majesty?”

“A huge thing with sharp teeth that can spawn out of thin air and eat you if you do what you did with that Clara chick again without first telling one of us. Anyway, here’s a point for saving 99526,” Chrysalis closes the situation with an internal smirk because she knows both 387’s and 99’s snapped to look at her, “Anything else?”

[10013:5, 20100:7, 36658:5, 99111:4, 99380:6, 99526:3, Smiley:6,

65536:3]

“Oh yes, Your Majesty!” 10013 perks up, “I almost forgot. I didn’t just come to tell you to not worry about 99526, but I wanted to ask you if you could give the guys some love. They’re all hungry after yesterday… wait, I said that already,” it pauses, “For points, of course! I have five now, so that would be for… 20100, 36658, 99111, 99380, and 99526. Smiley is okay and so is 65536, I think.”

“And you?” Chrysalis tilts her head patiently.

“I can take it easy until I figure something out,” 10013 looks up at her with a tired but now reassured smile, “It’s important they aren’t hungry so they can have fun and teach guys back home as you said.”

[10013:0, 20100:7, 36658:5, 99111:4, 99380:6, 99526:3, Smiley:6,

65536:3]

“Send them here and they’ll get their recharge,” Chrysalis shrugs, “No one can say a Queen doesn’t fulfill her promises. Shut up, 387.”

The warrior wasn’t about to say anything, so he shoots her a glare.

“Thank you, Your Majesty!” 10013 stands up, “I think that’s all I wanted.”

“Good, now off you go,” she shoos it away while nodding towards the door, “And be sure to avoid any STDs, as I said.”

“Meep! I thought the surface was much less spooky than home,” 10013 trots outside.

Chrysalis returns to the Scufflestick table and begins fixing the positions of the miniatures.

“I can feel you two watching me,” she says after a moment of silence, “Anything you want to say?”

“No, Your Majesty,” 387 and 99 answer immediately.

“Good, now let’s figure out how I can maximize the elasticity of Shining Armor’s anus in this stupid game. He won’t surprise me next time and I will make sure there is a next time if I have to invade the Crystal Empire!”

***

Some explaining what 20100 has no clue how to draw later, Trestle finally understands:

“I was wrong, you’re not a creative artist,” he breathes out, “You’re more like a living mix of a printer and a camera!”

“I guess…” 20100 nods, “Is that bad?”

“It’s… a whole different thing,” Trestle trots over to the door and turns off the lights before starting to open all the curtains and letting the natural early evening light inside, “It means all the painting we’ve been doing was pointless because you can just perfectly draw what you see the second you understand how to mix colors and apply paints,” he opens the main curtain covering the glass pane door of the balcony and slides it open to let fresh air in.

“It wasn’t useless, I had fun,” 20100 smiles at him.

*Achoo!*

As the sun touches his nose, Trestle starts sneezing like a madpony.

“Are you okay?” asks 20100 when Trestle’s sneezing fit ends after a moment, leaving the earth pony with wet eyes and drippy nose.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, grabbing a tissue from a nearby box and blowing his nose, “It’s just photosensitive ptarmosis, photoptarmosis for short. It’s a reaction some ponies have when they’re suddenly exposed to direct sunlight, nothing problematic.”

“Potato-pharmaceutics?” 20100 checks the hive mind for explanations of the weird words and finds nothing.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s not from ponish but from an old, pre-Equestrian language that’s still used in science. The condition doesn’t exactly have an equivalent in ponish.”

“I’ve just made one in dronish!” 20100’s puzzled expression changes once again into a smile.

“Hmm?”

“You’re shinysneezitive!”

“I’ll stick to the official name, thank you.”

“Photosneezitive? That way you have part of the old name.”

Trestle pauses for a moment.

“You know, you are creative with words, how come you can’t imagine and draw new things?”

“But that wasn’t anything imaginary,” 20100 shakes its head, “You see the big shiny, you sneeze. Simple. Drones aren’t supposed to lie, and we don’t because any high rank can check our head and munch us if we do. And what would be the point in lying to each other…?” 20100’s voice trails off as the image of 36658 telling completely nonsensical High Score stories back home flashes through its mind.

“I see,” Trestle rubs his chin, takes the filled canvas off of the easel and prepares an empty one, “But you’re thinking about it in the wrong way. The point of creative painting isn’t to lie- well, it is but not in the usual way when creatures lie if they want to avoid harm, gain some sort of a benefit, or harm someone else,” he rearranges the fruit bowl and writes down several notes into a pad lying on a chair nearby, “The point is to tell a story through a picture. The story doesn’t have to be real but its message can. We have photographs these days to accurately capture reality. Creativity is the more important part now.”

The image of 36658 returns with a vengeance, and 20100 feels as if it’s on the verge of some breakthrough but can’t put a hoof on what it is. Trestle misinterprets the drone’s expression as confusion about his statement, and tries again:

“The story, or a picture, can be only partially true, maybe it could be a picture of a somepony real in a situation that’s better than their current one, just to improve their mood whenever they see it- hah!” Trestle sits down and clops his hooves together, “Think of the picture of the Bloodstone Duchess, right?”

“Thinking!” 20100 nods, finding a hook it can use to mentally return to the explanation.

“The painting you made wasn’t the real Duchess, but I did see old paintings of her from different painters and in different styles. She used to be a strong lady, and in seeing your painting ability, she wanted a picture which would look realistic and remind her of how she looked when she was young and physically powerful again, since she’ll never be like that again at her age. In fact, the point of painting usually is to put an accent onto one specific part of the painted situation. It’s not lying, it’s putting focus on what’s important,” Trestle wisely decides that talking about abstract art would likely make the drone’s brain start dripping out of its ears.

“Can we… can you show me an example, please?” 20100 peeps, “I can’t… it’s hard…” its ears droop.

“Of course!” this time it’s Trestle who beams like a lighthouse, “Let’s start with something simple,” he points at the rearranged bowl and grabs his notepad, “You’re going to paint that with shading and everything, but in different colors that I’ve noted here,” he taps on the pad, “I’ll show you how to mix those if you need to. Once you get the hang of it we’ll move onto accenting specific things about a picture or straight up making something up. Small steps.”

“Yay?”

“Definitely yay.”

“Yayyyy!” 20100 perks up and, with a tongue stuck out to somehow improve its concentration, starts painting a blue apple.

Author's Note

I've just realized that this story is nearing 200k words. Am I just too meandering and unfocused? When I look back, I can't find anything that I could cut without just entirely dropping a character. Is it even a bad thing?

Day 9 - The Wobbly-leg Frogger: 8/9

“Hooves off your cocks, and on with the socks!” Chrysalis pushes the door of the drone suite open, quickly realizing her choice of words is entirely lost on the drones dozing around who raise their heads, immediately stand up afterwards, and line up for inspection.

“We don’t have any cocks, Your Majesty, I think,” reports 36658 as the only present representative of the older drones, “But 65536 said they had a bunch of critters in the city on the other side of the island. 20100 can get you some shinies, but it’s with the painter pony several rooms thataway!” it ends up pointing to the right.

“Socks sound neat, though,” 99380 smiles, “The hive mind says they’re warm and comfy leggo covers. I wonder if they trade those for shinies too. Or maybe we could make them out of goop. How about that, 99526?”

“Do I need to eat anything specific for sock goop? 99111, you’re the technological kind.”

“I’m not sure…” the drone tears its eyes away from the blackboard covered in 10101’s diagrams, “From the hive mind picture it seems like a bunch of stringy noodles somehow put together. Maybe-”

“Stop! Focus!” Chrysalis stops looking at the robot standing next to the blackboard by the wall, raises her hoof and all drones look at her again, “10013 said you were all starving after last night and I’m here to feed you. It would be more fitting for you to come to my place but I decided to stretch my legs instead,” she walks over to 36658 at one end of the line and her horn lights up, “I’ll take it slowly, so you can tell me what you’re doing in the meantime.”

“Resting, Your Majesty,” says 36658, “99526 and I are listening to the radio. 99111 and 99380 are memorizing and trying to understand 10101’s pictures and ideas. I don’t know where 10013 is, though.”

“It didn’t come back here?” Chrysalis raises an eyebrow but doesn’t elaborate, “99526, did the griffons in prison do anything to you?”

“One of them gave me a metal cup with water before sleepy time but they didn’t let me keep it when I was leaving,” reports 99526 dutifully, “I didn’t have any shinies on me for a trade. Too bad, it looked sturdy.”

“Did they hurt you in any way, I mean?”

“Nope,” 99526 shakes its head, “They yelled a lot but that must have been because my ears went all underwater-y after all that sneezing. I was okay when 10013 woke me up earlier, though.”

By now, the soothing glow of Chrysalis’ horn has refilled 36658 whose fog of exhaustion lifts and its traitorous head reminds it of something major - The Queen doesn’t just come and feed the drones on her own, and since she isn’t ordering them to do anything with the provided love…

36658 checks the table containing their points.

No, no no no! 10013, why?! We were fine, just a bit hungry. Very hungry, but that doesn’t mean you should have spent all your points on this. We were safely in the lead. Now 99111 can win with its nonsense! HIGH SCORE is on the line!

“Responsibility,” a single word appears in 36658’s mind, unprompted and untraceable.

High Score’s memory is more important than a few drones being temporarily hungry. We could have rested up and dealt with it. Or maybe everyone could have used their own points to get refilled.

“10013 feels responsible for all of you,” the voice doesn’t seem to surprise 36658 at all.

We are all responsible! We must make sure we don’t lose everything once the old days return. The idea of High Score was something drones made up ages before me and 10013 to pretend life was worth living but 9999 made it clear what High Score really should be!

“10013 isn’t High Score. No one can fulfill your ideas of High Score. Not even 9999.”

36658 grits its teeth and doesn’t answer this time. The voice is right, but 36658 is sure that so is its idea.

“Your Majesty?” it asks out loud, “Can I leave? I want to talk to 10013.”

“You got your recharge and I don’t need anything from you,” Chrysalis shrugs and flicks her hoof towards it, “Off you go.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” 36658 rushes out via the balcony and takes flight.

***

“Now add a banana-”

“One yellow curvy coming up,” mutters 20100 to itself.

“-a red banana-”

“Why are you so mean?!” whines 20100 without any real malice or harm in it.

“-that’s hidden behind that grapefruit so well that you can only see both tips.”

“Hnnnnngh!” 20100 grunts, narrowing its eyes at the bowl, hoping to change the quantum state of reality so that the specified banana will just appear and be easier to draw.

Reality fails to bend to 20100’s will for once, so it sighs in the end.

“Do you want a reference?” asks Trestle after a while of watching the drone frozen with indecisiveness, hoof raised with a brush stuck in a hole specifically grown for it.

“...yesplease…” 20100 blurts out in one breath. To its immediate horror, Trestle doesn’t put a banana behind the grapefruit, and instead he takes a rolled up newspaper which he bends into the correct shape and puts it in place of the required banana.

“Lesson… next one - reference objects and general shapes,” Trestle smirks at 20100 giving him a pouty glare, “We already know you can color something in the wrong way, so let’s move onto the more difficult thing.”

“To quote 99111 - grumble grumble!” huffs 20100.

“Do you want to take a break?” Trestle doesn’t skip a beat. This isn’t his first time teaching somepony, and it’s clear that the drone wants to learn despite many unexpectedly unique brick walls stopping it. Venting is to be expected, and no matter the drone’s complaining it’s not losing its desire to keep going.

“No,” 20100 shakes its head, “A bonbonana is just a tube, a bendy tube… draw a tube… you’ve seen a tube before… pick a color that doesn’t fit… it’s not lying, it’s… wishing for… no… it’s showing how things could be… bendy and red…”

*Knock knock!*

“Keep going,” Trestle nods at the drone who glances at the door, walks over and opens, revealing 99.

“Greetings,” says Trestle in an official manner, “Can I help you?”

“Hi, 99!” 20100 waves at her cheerfully, “We’re draw- painting, wanna join?”

99 gives the painter a courteous bow.

“May I borrow 20100 for a moment? It’ll be quick.”

“Of course,” Trestle moves out of the way as 20100 trots over.

“What’s going on?” asks the drone.

“Nothing to worry about,” 99 smiles, “10013 just spent its points to give you guys a refill, so I’m here and the Queen is in your suite.”

“Oh shoot!” 20100 rubs its chin, “I gotta give 10013 some shinies or something. Hey, Mister Trestle, can we take that break, after all?”

“Certainly, I’m not holding you here,” Trestle laughs, “Besides, we’ve been at it for- huh, nearly three hours? Time sure flies.”

99 presses her horn against 20100’s forehead, saying:

“Maybe you could find a gift for 10013. I doubt it needs bits as such.”

“Hmmm,” 20100 ponders the suggestion.

“There are a number of tourist shops at the port. If your friend likes something weird there should be a good selection,” comments Trestle, “Come to think of it, I wanted to visit a few places myself. Do you want to come with me? I can recommend to you what to buy to practice drawing on the go.”

“That sounds great!” 20100 beams, “I’ll just go get my shinies.”

“Do you trust this pony enough to be alone with him?” 99 asks mentally.

“Yup!” 20100 replies without hesitation, “I’ve been alone with him all this time and he didn’t try to munch me. And he likes painting even more than I do! He can’t be a baddie.”

“Heh, just be careful. We’re still on a mostly griffon island,” 99 raises her head, “All done. How are you feeling?”

“Not hungry at all anymore,” 20100 salutes, “And ready for a trip!”

“Then go pack any money you want to spend and meet me outside in ten minutes,” Trestle looks over the messy room and winces, “I’ll just clean the place up a little.”

***

10013 never thought it would be in a position to want some peace and quiet. Back home, especially under the old rules, drones spent the majority of their awake time on their own, digging or moving objects between storage caves. Passing by someone else was never the time for a quick chat. Even under new rules with plenty of breaky time, there’s been enough space to just let the body work and clear one’s head. Here, though, not at all, and 10013 has been finally feeling it, especially today with the lack of love. That’s why it didn’t return to the suite after reporting to the Queen and receiving a mental message moments after leaving the bungalow that the Queen will visit the drones herself instead of having them go to her.

So there it is, just sitting alone in the shallow water at the rocky eastern edge of the beach, watching the sea move back and forth as the warm water streams around it and through its leg holes. No one is mentally talking, the only resort guests are far enough away so that only the sound of voices reaches the drone and not the words themselves, and it doesn’t have to do anything right now. Unfortunately, peace and quiet is only a temporary concept, because sooner or later it’s inevitably replaced by either a disturbance or worse - boredom.

With a sigh, 10013 stands up, stumbling a little in the wet sand.

“Everyone’s taken care of, so what now?” the drone mutters, walking out of the sea, “I should find someone huggy. Miss Cadance, perhaps?”

10013 looks towards the semi-circle of the bungalows stretching into the sea. The usually visible pink aura surrounding the Crystal Empire’s bungalow is missing, so Cadance must be out of the resort. With the easy solution out of the question, a rocky place reminds 10013 of something else.

“That yoghurt thingy is supposed to be restful too, at least that’s what Miss Cadance said,” it ponders, “Didn’t feel like it to me, but she did say that was just because I wasn’t used to it. Let’s give it a go.”

10013 follows its memories of the yoga set and quickly realizes it’s completely incapable of holding the poses for even as long as before.

Miss Cadance said to just do as much as is comfortable.

“Step by step, a slow progress,” the voice returns, “You’ll do better next breaky time.”

10013 doesn’t bother speaking out into the hive mind. It’s clear by now that the voice can hear its direct thoughts.

I know.

It’s not just words, just something to remind itself and ignore. 10013 internalizes it immediately and adjusts its exercise. It doesn’t overstretch, it doesn’t keep on bending when it hurts even if the pose isn’t perfect, it just keeps going one motion at a time. In the end, it finishes the previously over an hour-long set in half the time. In the final, relaxing pose, on its back, all four legs stretched out, 10013 falls asleep under the warm, early evening sun.

***

“MISS GEM! MISS GEEEEM!!” 65536 calls out again as it’s walking along the promenade, “Blue-” it stops itself from calling out Blueblood’s name out loud. His presence deliberately wasn’t noted down in the tourist logs on Princess Celestia’s request and while it’s not explicitly supposed to be a secret, the last thing Blueblood needs are other nobles making fun of him, spreading rumors, or saying nasty remarks, “PRIVATE BB!”

65536 has been searching the resort from top to bottom for quite some time now with zero results. On Blueblood’s request yesterday it gave him a lot of time alone but since the ex-Prince hasn’t shown up for the majority of the day, a biting thought surfaced in the back 65536 and hasn’t left since.

What if I was wrong after all and left him alone…?

“MISS GEM! PRIVATE BB!” it calls out again to no avail.

‘The thought’ grows stronger.

Of course, every drone knows what the desire to make the pain stop, to never again have to feel the horror of digging through a cave wall and hearing the sudden screeching, to make the barrel-twisting spikes of hunger go away for good feels like. But they also heard rumors that high ranks can keep your mind locked in the hive mind even if your body is gone and punish you for much longer than any drone ever lived. In a way, it was a blessing that their lives under the old rules were so brief because it made the few not terrible moments stand out so much more.

What if someone knew it would never end unless they ‘helped it’? How long could they take it? What if they couldn’t be satisfied by finding a particularly smooth rock, showing the others, and then trading it for a stick that goes ‘swish’ in a funny way?

“MISS GEM! PRIVATE BB?!” 65536 calls out in a shakier voice, its attempts at suppressing ‘the thought’ failing.

None of the vendors, the guests walking around, nor those lying on the beach within earshot reply, and 65536 admits to itself that it needs a break. Only a quick one, though. Locating the nearest bench, the drone hops onto it and takes a deep breath while staring blankly ahead.

These days, not all drones know the feeling. They know the moments of panic, they know what it feels to be tired and hungry, but that’s all tempered by the knowledge that someone will come along to feed them during breaky time. They know breaky time, not just worky time and passed out time.

WE know.

65536’s breathing slows down and grows steadier.

We never stopped working. It took forever. It was excruciating. But it got better.

No. It got better only BECAUSE we never stopped working. It wasn’t a slow progress and gradual improvement, we just kept going until a chance came up.

High Score was just a normal drone, but it stepped up. What would it do these days?

The same thing we, drones, always do - just keep working.

I just wish I knew the right words to tell this to BB in a way it would make sense to him.

65536 wibbles as ‘the thought’ crosses its mind again.

At this point, reality itself can’t handle the normally endlessly cheerful drone being this grim anymore, and immediately materializes a familiar zebra who notices 65536 and approaches it with:

“Hi, little guy!” says Zeri.

To the relief of said reality, 65536’s wibble ends and it gives the zebra bodyguard a weak but genuine smile.

“Hello, Miss Zeri!”

“Neat! Finally someone who can tell us zebras apart,” she sits down next to 65536 with a smile.

“Your names don’t make my tongue all twisted when I get nervous, and you’re the one closest to my size. Easy. How is it going?”

“Pretty good. You’re looking unusually grim, though.”

“I’m looking for Miss Gem and, uhh…”

“Yeeeeah, I was wondering about that,” Zeri’s smile fades a little, “That Private BB you were calling for… would it be Blue-?”

“Shhhh!” 65536 slaps a hoof over its mouth and immediately slobbers over it, “Pffrbfbrb!”

“Ah…” Zeri nods, “I thought so. I might be able to help you.”

“Really?” 65536 puts its hoof down again, “Did you see Bl- Private BB and Miss Gem?”

“I did.”

“Where? When?”

“Ah ah ah!” Zeri raises her hoof, “Something for something.”

“A trade?” asks 65536, “Sure, let’s do it the drone way.”

“Tell me what happened to Blue- don’t shush me!” Zeri frowns, “I’m not talking about ‘Private BB’. Tell me what happened to Prince Blueblood after Zamira reported what he did to 1313 after the invasion. All we heard before we moved to Northern San Palomino was that he lost his title.”

“I don’t know that much because I didn’t come into contact with him before this trip but I can tell you what Miss Gem and Princess Celestia told me before we left.”

“Alright, go on,” Zeri pats 65536’s head.

65536 recaps its briefing about Blueblood’s depression and loss of titles, property, and his current state as well as what 65536 recently considered progress… until now.

“-and I thought he got better so I let him go alone but I haven’t seen him since and I’m afraid he…” 65536 wibbles instead of finishing the thought.

“Hmmm, so he wasn’t lying. We might actually finally be free,” Zeri breathes out before shaking her head, “I guess it’s my turn now. Last night, Pr- Blue- he sought Zamira and 1313 out to apologize and to tell us that neither he nor his family and friends will seek revenge on us for what happened to him. We, of course, didn’t believe him-”

“He did change a bit…” objects 65536.

“No!” says Zeri firmly, “65536, I can understand that you drones are a weird force of good, but what he did to us over the years was...” she scowls, clearly wanting to say something else but settling on, “barely excusable for the money. We just can’t forgive him. However, if we never see him or anyone involved with him ever again as he promised last night, we won’t press the issue. Princess Celestia promised us safety too, but we’re not stupid. It’s too easy to ‘have an accident’ in some backwater hole. Still, I believe you, and if your story is entirely correct then we might really be free,” she repeats, more to herself.

65536 looks down on the ground, its forelegs tapping the bench.

“He left afterwards,” Zeri continues, “I haven’t seen him since. I did see Gem earlier that evening, too,” she points to the empty pier in the distance jutting out into the sea, “She and that changeling Paladin borrowed the resort yacht and sailed west, no idea why but I can hazard a guess that it has something to do with the cruise ship sinking. Since the ship’s still gone I assume they haven’t returned yet.”

“Goop…”

“Were you supposed to take care of him or something?”

“Mhm,” 65536 nods.

“Oof, tough luck.”

The duo remain silent for a moment before 65536 asks:

“Could you help me-?”

“No,” Zeri cuts him off, “I’m sorry. This is the one thing I doubt you could persuade any of us, even Zamira, to help you with.”

“Alright,” 65536 sighs and hops off of the bench, “I guess I should get back to looking for him then. Can’t be resting when he might-” 65536 stops itself, “Thank you for the info about Miss Gem, Miss Zeri.”

“Look, I didn’t mean to be cold to you or anything like that,” Zeri tries to clear things up.

“It’s okay. I understand that Private BB did a lot of bad things not just to you, but…” it ponders how to voice the instinct that’s bouncing around its head, “I’m a drone. Back in the hive, if we failed then we died, no exceptions. If we failed due to us being slow or weak or not smart enough, we died. If we failed because a high rank gave us the wrong orders or forgot to tell us some dangerous detail, we died. If we failed because of anything that was out of our control, we died. Our punishment for anything was that we died. You ponies are amazing. You have this whole system even for the real baddies where you don’t kill them but where you try to show them the error of their ways and give them a second chance. That’s why I joined the Guard, not because I randomly ended up with them as friends. And I believe in BB, that’s all,” it starts walking away again, leaving the stunned zebra on the bench, “As I said, thank you for your help, Miss Zeri.”

Day 9 - The Wobbly-leg Frogger: 9/9

With 10013’s link being so worryingly weak, 36658 could barely even guess the drone leader’s direction, much less actual location, making its search take what feels like forever. After trudging back and forth through the resort, repeatedly correcting its course and doubling back on itself, 36658 finally closes in on its target. At least according to its hive link, not its eyes, although drone eyes work just fine even as the evening shadows creep in.

According to the map, this is almost the east border of the resort. What could 10013 be doing here?

Moving a little longer in a way of a marble in a pinball machine, 36658 finally spots a motionless black pile in the distance blending with the background, and all its thoughts of chewing 10013 out for ruining their point lead evaporate instantly. It rushes over to the prone drone, now looking around the area for any signs of danger. However, a quick examination proves that 10013 is simply asleep, so exhausted that even the rising tide now washing over its hind legs didn’t wake it up.

What do I do? 10013 just needs love. Do I just share mine? It would work, but it would also bring us closer to potentially needing another refill and losing even more points.

“You know what to do,” says the voice.

Trade.

With a sigh, 36658 looks towards Princess Cadance’s bungalow just in case, but the pink glow still isn’t there.

“10013, are you okay?” it asks, just in case the lack of love is from some unseen internal damage, and splashes some water over 10013’s face.

“Mhmuh?” 10013 groggily cracks its eyes open and yawns, “36658? Hiii…”

“Can you walk?”

“Huh? Sure, just-” 10013 wobbles its legs weakly, “I must have overdone it with yoghurt again,” it lets its legs flop on the rocks it’s lying on, ”Miss Cadance said yoghurt was relaxing and I was tired so I tried it… and I guess I’m a bit too relaxed now?” it yawns again.

36658 sighs.

“Alright, let’s fix this,” it loads 10013 on its back. While drones are surprisingly heavy for their size, they’re also used to having much larger loads on their back, so 36658 easily lifts 10013 and starts trudging through the sand, the unstable surface under its hooves proving a much bigger problem than its cargo.

It can’t help smiling a bit as 10013 locks forelegs around its neck, rubs it with its muzzle, and starts quietly snoring after.

Show me the way, High Score.

“You know what to do.”

36658 takes a long breath.

Like in the old days - all we can before our time runs out.

“You’ll find a way to help all drones, 36658. It just might not be the one you see right now.”

As long as we don’t give up, you’ll show us a way.

“You will find a way,” the voice corrects it.

“...youneedahug…” mumbles 10013 in its sleep, tightening its forelegs around 36658’s neck.

***

Maybe Miss Gem left a clue where she went.

65536, having been unsuccessful in its search for Blueblood, unlocks the door to the bungalow and enters. As expected from its experience with Miss Gem, there’s a bunch of chemistry equipment on the central table as well as any flat surface within reach. The bed is a mess, the wardrobe seems untouched, but one thing immediately grabs 65536’s attention - the shower is running.

“Miss Gem?”

No answer.

It knocks on the door.

Nothing.

It floats up to the handle and opens, revealing Blueblood sitting under the stream of water who looks up with red-rimmed eyes.

“Private BB?”

Blueblood opens his mouth to say something, pauses, and just breathes out. 65536 floats over and turns the shower off.

“What happened?” asks 65536, “I found Miss Zeri and she said you apologized to 1313’s zebra friends last night.”

Blueblood nods.

“Didn’t exactly work,” he croaks.

“Is that what’s bothering you so much that you’re here?” 65536 lands at Blueblood’s hooves.

“I… I thought I knew I screwed up beyond help but after facing all of them… it was too much,” he breathes out, “I wandered around and I ended up here. I… think I wanted to ask Gem to give me some pills or something… it’s hazy,” he pauses and 65536 patiently wants for more, “But she wasn’t here and I needed an empty place where no one would try to talk to me. I… couldn’t sleep anyway because I just kept replaying the conversation with Zamira and the others. I begged my head to stop repeating it and it didn’t help no matter what I did. In the end I think I took some pills lying around. They did nothing. I can’t recall when I fell asleep but I think it was getting brighter outside. I woke up… not that long ago and I didn’t want to stain Gem’s floor… so I’m here.”

“BB, you gathered the courage to face them yesterday.”

“And look how much it helped…”

“Mister Sharp had a saying I think fits this situation, wanna hear it?”

“Hearing you talk about him, I’d say he had some advice for everything.”

“He was the wisest pony I’ve ever met,” 65536 nods.

“Careful, Luna will be jealous if she hears that,” Blueblood’s jaded attempt at misdirection does nothing to dissuade 65536 who just chuckles, “Fine… go on.”

“He said this when we were talking about my life in the hive, specifically about high ranks eating us for random reasons, some we could do nothing about. It stuck in my mind because it was the first time I heard a pony say something entirely dronish. He said - you can’t control what others do or what they think about you. You can influence it by what you say or do, but you can never control it. Even magic doesn’t work a hundred percent. The only thing you have real control over is yourself. Your mind will try and work against you, your body will try and work against you, but your true self is your will. Life is an endless battle against yourself and the best you can do today is be a better version of yourself than yesterday,” 65536 sits down between Blueblood’s hind legs and looks up into his eyes, “Of course Miss Zamira and everyone treated you like the old you. You never proved you’re a different pony. Not different enough right now, maybe, but what about tomorrow if you keep heading in the right direction? What about in a month? A year?” 65536 beams at him, “You said that deep down you know that if you don’t keep an eye on yourself that you’ll slip into your old ways, that you’d still be the old you if you didn’t get punished this hard. I also told you this before and I meant it - you made so many mistakes that you have a chance for improvement anywhere you look. You know your real enemy is the old Blueblood. You gathered the courage to face Zamira and the others and apologize, that was the best you could do as your current self. It wasn’t possible to persuade them right now in the same way it wasn’t possible for us drones to stop high ranks from eating us if they wanted to.”

“Please stop… my head is hurting again,” Blueblood grunts and pushes himself up, “You’re saying such a mix of nonsense and actually good ideas that I’ll do anything just to make it stop.”

“Ha! Drone logic for the win!” 65536 beams again and backs off.

“Any concrete ideas on where to begin other than vague, mostly pointless platitudes?”

“Having a clear goal helps, but let’s start with small steps. Everything's better in small steps,” 65536 purses its lips, “As Mister Sharp sometimes said - healthy mind in a healthy body, hmm? I’ve been looking for you for a long time so I haven’t done my pushies, pulleys, bendies, and curlies.”

“Fine, screw it!” Blueblood sighs in defeat, “If my body and mind are trying to buck me over, let’s show one of them a lesson they won't forget. No one ever said that you can’t become a better pony through sheer annoyance and spite.”

“TO THE GYM!” exclaims 65536 victoriously.

***

“Aaaand that’s turn five and I win 61 to 24,” 387 gives Chrysalis a smug smirk that makes the Queen’s eye twitch.

“Throw yourself into the sea, 387!” she growls back.

The table is empty with the exception of Scufflestick models, but to the eyes of the three changelings it’s glowing with walls and terrain mentally laid over it through the power of the hive mind. It contains models that belong to Chrysalis now playing 99111’s ‘mechanical whatevers’ vastly outnumbering 387’s Lings, but the warrior’s tactical decision making around objectives granted him a lot more success in this match in comparison to Chrysalis’ overall genocidal approach.

“He played around the turn limit and sacrificed his units accordingly to keep you locked in fighting,” says 99, nodding approvingly.

“And you into the nearest woodchipper!” Chrysalis blesses the infiltrator with her post-game ‘cheer’.

“Look, you are playing better, Chrysalis,” says 387 in all seriousness, “And I must admit that this game is significantly better designed than I gave it credit at first. Even the faction balance isn’t terrible for being thought out on the spot by drones and Shining Armor.”

This time, Chrysalis welcomes the knocking on the door, and a brief mental check reveals the knocker to be 36658. However, opening it reveals 10013 as well which makes Chrysalis sigh.

“Don’t tell me - 10013 is out of love and needs a recharge.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” 36658 nods and bows for good measure before carefully putting 10013 down.

“Well, you know the price.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“I’m assuming you’ve sorted out your little ‘ideological dispute’ with 99111 then,” she can’t help making a jab, “Because this puts your group seriously behind.”

“I understand, Your Majesty, and no, we haven’t,” 36658 briefly grits its teeth and looks at the wood of the pier, “But this is more important.”

“Well, I’m not going to tell you how to spend your hard earned points,” Chrysalis shrugs and quickly refills 10013, “It’ll wake up in a moment. If there’s nothing else, we were in the middle of something.”

[10013:0, 20100:7, 36658:4, 99111:4, 99380:6, 99526:3, Smiley:6,

65536:3]

36658 quickly nods and loads 10013 onto its back again.

“No, Your Majesty. Thank you.”

Chrysalis just closes the door.

“That mention of 99111 was unnecessary,” comments 387.

“On the contrary, 387. You should know best how much they value the concept of a trade. We are doing this the drone way. Mostly for amusement’s sake, but there might be some value in them recognizing that I now consider them worth a listen and remember their issues,” Chrysalis wiggles her eyebrow at him, but 387 just shakes his head.

“Just like your game strategy, you are starting to get the overall idea but details are still completely lost on you,” counters 387, returning to the table, “You could show them something which only 65536 during its Hearth’s Warming visits to the hive does - the concept of a gift. A sign that you care beyond what they can give you in return.”

“To give something for free, 387, we must be in a position where we can do so without endangering much more,” Chrysalis manipulates the hive mind and the projected ‘terrain’ augmenting the reality of the flat game table disappears, “And to do that, we’re all going to be hunting tonight. The evening is here, and we’ve done a whole lot of refilling today on top of not being able to feed properly since this nonsense happened,” she scowls as she touches the Paladin suppressor.

***

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” Trestle asks again as he looks at 20100 who is now more luggage than a drone.

“It’s okay!” replies the big, boxy backpack with tiny legs underneath, “It’s not too heavy, there’s just a lot!”

“Well, if we did miss a gift shop in this city then it must have been underground somehow,” Trestle shakes his head, “And I get that most of those are interesting mechanical trinkets, some sweets, and an amount of shiny things that would make a magpie roll its eyes, but what was it with the painkillers? I had to reassure the pharmacist that you weren’t buying all those to cook some drugs.”

“Those are for 36658! It can make pain killing goop so I wanted to give it some pony versions to experiment with and try to make something new,” explains 20100, steadily moving the cargo easily three times of its size, “All the tickers and tockers are for 99111 who likes mechanical stuff. One of the tickers is a tiny radio for 99380. It can use it before we get back home and then 99111 can do mechanical stuff with it because it’ll stop working without a bunch of these tube battery thingies, the griffon said, and we won’t be able to get them again. The expensive treats are for 99526 because it gets sick if it eats too much stuff, so I picked the best small ones. I got myself a super hard metal thingy that can scratch into stones for something I want to try out back home, and special painting thingies for you- oops!” 20100 slaps a hoof over its mouth, making the backpack tilt it sideways until Trestle steadies it, “Umm, that was supposed to be a secret.”

“I don’t need anything, 20100,” the painter shakes his head, “I don’t show it too much but I’m excited to have someone as interested in painting as you are.”

“Nu uh!” objects 20100, vigorously shaking its head, “A trade’s a trade. Besides, when I saw the amount of shinies they wanted for it I knew it had to be awesome. And you couldn’t stop looking at it too.”

“You didn’t…” Trestle breathes out, his eyes widening, “The powdered dragon scale pigments?”

“And the alicorn mane brush,” 20100 beams straight ahead because the massive backpack isn’t letting it turn its head all the way, “It kept wobbling on its own!”

“I can’t… that’s too much…” Trestle just keeps walking along the street of the port, stunned.

“I had way too many shinies anyway,” 20100 shrugs, “And those were heavier than this whole bag.”

“I…” Trestle can barely process what the drone is saying and just settles on: “Thank you. If there’s any way I can help, don’t hesitate to ask. I mean it.”

“I still haven’t found anything for 10013,” 20100 sighs, “That one’s tough.”

“What do they like?”

“That’s the tough part. 10013 likes all the usual shiny things, but… it’s our leader, you know? The top-ranked drone since High Score died. It feels responsible for all of us and wants us to be happy and healthy. They don’t sell ‘happy and healthy’ around here, I think, and I haven’t seen anything that, in my opinion, felt good enough for 10013.”

Trestle hums to himself and looks at the sky where the rising stars catch his eye.

“Shoot! We should find a hotel for the night. There’s no way we can get all that,” he nods to 20100’s cargo, “back to the resort before midnight. Maybe we’ll figure out what to buy for your friend overnight.”

“Sounds good,” 20100 nods, “What’s a hotel? We’re too far from the others so I kinda know fewer things.”

“A place to stay the night.”

“That alley looks comfy!” 20100 makes the mistake of pointing and Trestle has to stop it from rolling over again, “Ah-! Thank you.”

“You’re not allowed to sleep in the street in most places. Follow me. I’m sure we can find something reasonably priced.”

“I still gots shinies.”

“Remember you also still wanted a gift for your friend. We’ll find a place that won’t empty your wallet.”

“What’s a-”

“That won’t empty your neck pouch.”

“Ah. Lead the way!”

Author's Note

I might have to take a break for the next week because I'm still working on notes for the "bonus" day but we'll see. So far I think I've made it in time all but once. This reminds me that I used to always take a week off between full chapters in the imbalanced days. Perhaps I should start doing that again, but I guess I'm just too desperate for validation and comments from internet strangers :rainbowderp:

Day 10 - Just another busy day: 1/?

The ground trembles.

The tremor isn’t particularly powerful, but it’s still enough to rattle the window of the small, one-guest hotel room hosting Trestle and 20100, and make the water jug by the bedside table clink. A much greater amount of chaos follows as something slams the bed in which Trestle is sleeping from underneath, and a black blur shoots out of the cramped space yelling-

“Rumblers! RUMBLERS! Get your stashes and ruuuun!”

-all the while mentally broadcasting the same.

Trestle rubs his eyes, watching the panicking drone bump into furniture, turn over a chair, and finally get tangled in the straps of its massive backpack and somehow manage to end up upside down, all in the span of several seconds and one loud warning.

The backpack slowly keels over on 20100 and buries the drone underneath.

Trestle yawns, looks out of the window letting in the early morning sun, and stretches his legs.

“Are you okay under there, 20100?” he asks.

“That wasn’t a rumbler, was it?” a muffled reply comes from the imprisoned drone.

“No idea what that’s supposed to be, but to me it seemed like a weak earthquake, same as yesterday,” Trestle finally gets up, walks over to the backpack, pushes it on the side with a grunt, and reveals the tangled drone trapped underneath, “How did you even manage to get so messed up so quickly?” he shakes his head and starts fiddling with the metal buckles holding the straps together. It’ll be much quicker than trying to methodically release 20100.

“Heheh,” it chuckles nervously, “We panic easily. It helps with not getting eaten.”

“I strongly disagree,” Trestle taps on the prison of straps.

“Most of the time…” adds 20100.

Trestle finishes one buckle off, which leaves 20100 hanging in the air near the top of the backpack.

“Wheee!” the drone stretches its now free hind legs.

“Careful!” Trestle leans away just in case 20100’s excitement makes it kick a bit too far, “So, we still have about two hours before we have to clear out, did you think of that gift for 10013?”

“Yes, I did!” 20100 unsuccessfully attempts to nod, still tied up worse than an overzealous BDSM enthusiast, “Remember that moldable plastic sheet thingy you can paint on that we saw yesterday? The ones they said were for maps with all the pointy hilly bits. I’d like to paint High Score and make it -whatdidtheycallit- three dee. That way, 10013 can boop it.”

“Those things are notoriously difficult to paint on and the material doesn’t lend itself to painting details. If you’re really set on this then buy more of them, and be sure to buy some cleaner too, because I’m absolutely sure it’ll take a lot ofattempts, even for you,” Trestle frees 20100’s head and the drone raises its forelegs, finally sliding under the last two straps crossed on its barrel.

“Phew! This did bring back super bad webby spinner memories,” 20100 wipes its forehead.

“Now you can enjoy putting this back on,” Trestle nods to the backpack and flicks the strap in his hoof, “I’ll pack my stuff unless you want to stay here until our time runs out.”

“Nu uh,” 20100 shakes its head, “We gotta go buy the stuff and head back to the resort. I want to start working on 10013’s gift as soon as I can.”

“Fine with me,” Trestle gets busy packing his stuff.

Roughly fifteen minutes later, the duo enter the shabby hotel’s lobby where several guests are gathered around the counter. Some guests hear their hoofsteps and shoot them a glance, but in turn 20100 and Trestle overhear scraps of the ongoing conversation:

“Look, the news on the island radio was that there’s nothing to worry about. The Ataraki volcano isn’t active, but there might be unforeseen gas leaks pocketing underground or something. Supposedly, some new Imperial seismologists have already arrived to the island with a massive drill and are already examining the situation,” the griffon behind the counter is explaining, “If it grows into something worth worrying about we’ll know way in advance.”

The guests slowly disperse as one painter and one massive backpack with tiny drone legs leave. After the final shopping for 20100’s supplies, as they walk through the streets towards the road leading across the island to the resort, Trestle says:

“It just dawned on me, since you’re bound to be busy with making that plastic painting, that this might be the last few hours for us to talk. Is there anything else you’d like to hear about? Maybe something regarding the history of painting?”

“Sure!” 20100 nods, “But I could use some advice on painting someone whom I know how they look but it’s in a position I’ve never seen them in.”

“Huh?” Trestle smiles and his voice gains that lecturing tone which 20100 knows well by now, “That’s easy. You can always find someone else with the right proportions to pose for you. If you want to paint a changeling like yourself then it’s even easier because you look extremely similar in general. Some painters use poseable ponnequins, but I doubt we’d be able to buy one of those here. As for the painting process itself, you can always start with making a sketch of the general pose using some easily removable marker, possibly building a full body out of geometric shapes, and then start connecting those and layering the body over it from skeletal structure-”

20100 just listens with a smile, absorbing both the teachings as well as the love for his art which weakly seeps out of Trestle.

***

A similar awakening follows the tremor felt in the resort. However, since the other drones are grouped up and in a familiar territory, their hive mind links synchronize and they instinctively absorb the situation with only raised heads and puzzled looks around.

*SLAM!*

“Ow…!”

With the drones’ habit of sleeping under things, the synchronicity spreads into both the impact and the dazed reaction as most drones crawl out of their respective nooks and crannies, rubbing their heads or narrowing their eyes at the floor in suspicion in case of Smiley.

“Another rumble?” asks 36658, looking around.

“Seems like it,” replies 99380, unbothered and unharmed at all due to its armchair sleeping spot, “The radio lady talked about it earlier and said that it’s nothing to worry about and that some griffon sees-more-logics came to check it out.”

“That does not sound good,” the worried comment comes from 10101 who spent the night simply sitting by the whiteboard covered in diagrams.

“How come?” asks 10013.

“For three reasons,” replies 10101 and walks over to the radio, nodding at 99380, “May I borrow it?”

“Umm, sure. Why?”

“Reason number one - my seismology records read that there should be zero natural activity,” the mechanical limb slides out of 10101’s chest again and the robot begins dismantling the radio’s chassis at a rapid pace, “Reason number two - even though this island is dedicated to being a playground for the important and the rich, a tremor like this one wouldn’t warrant such an immediate dispatch of a seismology team,” when the chassis is gone, the thin tip of the limb lights up, and 10101 touches the circuitry, making it spark, “Remember, according to the radio news, the team arrived overnight, which means before the second tremor,” it takes several components from the boards and examines them, “Reason number three - even if the seismology team was somehow ready for this event, the travel distance from the Empire makes it impossible to traverse the sea in one night,” 10101 fiddles with the components before rearranging them and soldering them back to the board, “This makes me believe that whoever arrived from the mainland is related to the griffons who are already here in secret. From our records, the level of technology of the Imperial Intelligence Service is usually several decades ahead of the general public, so if the griffons have the ability to transport personnel that quickly it would be them,” 10101 fits the chassis back onto the board, “I looks like I must ask you for assistance once again, changelings,” it looks at 10013.

“What with?” asks the leader.

“I need an escort back to the facility, the service entrance. If my suspicion is correct, the tremors could be related to the griffon attempts at breaching the istrium sarcophagus and triggering security mechanisms.”

“Didn’t you say you had a lot of time before they’d be able to do it?” asks 36658, immediately looking for inconsistencies in the story.

“I did. Some variable must have changed,” 10101 nods, “I have modified the radio to receive a specific frequency if you leave the knob set to its current position. There will be a high amount of distortion because I can’t modify the antenna on the roof, but it’ll be sufficient for reception as well as let you listen to the station you enjoy. It might be necessary to contact you from the lab.”

“Does that mean we get to go inside your super high tech place?” 99111 immediately perks up, “Can I go this time, 10013? Can I can I can I?”

“Hmm,” 10013 rubs its chin and shrugs, “I don’t see a problem with that. All you have to do is cover 10101 while passing by someone. Just listen to 10101 when it says to not touch anything. I know that will be the hardest part. You shouldn’t go alone, though. To be able to cover 10101 from more sides if nothing else. Three drones would be the best.”

“I can go,” 99526 raises its foreleg, “I’d like to stretch my legs after being in the GIL for so long. I’m not sick at all anymore.”

“99380, 36658?” 10013 looks at each drone.

“I’d rather not,” 36658 shakes its head, adding mentally, “They probably won’t get into any trouble that my help could fix. Besides, this is one of the final chances I have to gain some points to stop 99111’s nonsense.”

“I… can I stay here and listen for 10101’s message?” 99380 asks quietly, “My thinky ball hurts real bad from all the remembering and hive minding. Wait, 36658 got any of the big agonyslayers?”

“If you have a headache, you need to stop your head from processing stimuli,” interjects 10101, “My advice is going outside and finding a quiet place instead of relying on mind-altering substances. The most important things in training biological brains are repetition and recovery. Listening to the radio all day would only make things worse right now. I can give you several basic tips regarding meditative states before we leave. There is a limit to what I can do without connection to the facility’s databanks.”

“You heard the smart mechanibug,” says 10013, “Which means that I have to stay here and listen in case of trouble. Smiley, you wanna go for a walk?”

Processing.

Processing…

Smile.

[yes]

Everyone’s jaw drops.

“Smiley, you can talk now?!” 10013 recovers first.

[? :) ?]

“Well, slow and steady,” 10013 walks over and pats Smiley’s head, “Go with 10101, 99111, and 99526, and help them with anything they need, okay?”

*Happy face!*

Author's Note

I realized I have no idea what to call this day.

Day 10 - Just another busy day: 2/?

10013 finds itself alone in the suite with the radio mixing chatter with music. However, as the first law of dronamics states - a drone with love not at work must get to work, and 10013 realizes that it’s pacing back and forth without having any idea it was doing so.

Alrighty, there’s no reason to sit here and wait right now because 10101 needs to get back home to call first. That gives me -how long did we take last time?- two hours, depending on obstacles. That’s a lot of time to waste by just sitting.

“What to do? What to do?” it mumbles before a faint memory from yesterday surfaces, “Oh! I gotta pay 36658 back for… paying me back for… uhh… spending my points to feed everyone. Whatever! The reason isn’t important, the points are, so I have just under two hours to find something useful to do before I have to get back to radio duty.”

Trotting out on the balcony, 10013 stretches in the morning sun, and takes flight in hopes of spotting something that would point it in the right direction.

Work hard and don’t give up. High Score will reveal a way.

***

Even this early in the morning, the resort is lively with staff preparing everything for the day as well as the occasional confused guest asking about the tremor, both making it difficult for 99380 to get the recommended combination of fresh air and silence. After aimlessly wandering for a while, 99380 just sits down on the nearest bench and thinks, making its headache briefly worse.

High Score, calling High Score. 10013 and 36658 keep saying that when I get stuck and don’t stop trying you’ll show me a way. Should I just keep walking around? I’m not sure about the stories 36658 kept telling us back home but I could still use a bit of help.

“I don’t think they meant to keep doing what clearly isn’t working, rather to explore different options of solving your problem. How about, instead of looking for a new place, you take stock of where you’ve been already?” a strange voice answers.

“AAH who’s there?!” 99380’s eyes shoot open and it looks around. When its only answer is mental silence, it tries again with: “Hello? Sorry I got spooked. Ummm, High Score?”

More nothing. 99380 briefly dips into the hive mind in case it could sense who was talking to it, but it can’t find any proof that anyone was even talking through the links. Shaking its head, the drone is no stranger to obeying ethereal voices, so it shrugs and internally goes through the locations it’s visited before, stopping on-

The sports area! It was pretty much empty at this time of day.

“Thank you, voice!” it speaks out into the hive mind politely.

“You’re welcome. I’m glad you figured it out,” the voice finally responds and, now that 99380 is directly focusing on the hive mind communication, it still can’t sense any actual speaker.

Making a puzzled face as it stands up from the bench and heads towards the many courts and playgrounds, 99380 tests something by just thinking to itself:

Is this all in my head?

“Yes,” replies the voice.

Ah! Good job, head.

Unusual mental situation successfully sorted out, 99380 smiles and flies up to catch more of that recommended fresh air and get to the peaceful play zone faster.

***

10013 buzzing around hasn’t yielded any potential point increases either, but its curiosity spikes when it spots 387 sitting in a weird position on a lawn with his back propped against a tree and his forelegs on the knees of his crossed hind legs. The warrior’s eyes are closed and 10013 can’t sense his hive link at all, but it doesn’t feel like he’s asleep. 10013 ponders whether or not to disturb the warrior before 387 turns his head straight up towards it, eyes still closed. After that, 10013 can’t help itself and lands next to him.

“Good morning, 10013,” says 387 before finally opening his eyes, “Need anything?”

“Uh, no, 387,” 10013 shakes its head, “I was looking around for a way to help, saw you sitting here bendy-legged like this, and started wondering what you were doing. I didn’t want to disturb you, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” 387 reaches out and pats 10013’s head, the fact that this might be the first time in ages that a drone doesn’t wince at his touch warming his ancient heart, “I was just practicing some mind tricks and enjoying the peace after last night.”

“Did anything happen last night?” 10013 sits down by the warrior’s side and attempts to strike the same lotus pose. The new carapace allows for such mobility and it soon feels its muscles stretching and relaxing.

“Old Bugbutt wanted us to feed but it was pretty tough without shapeshifting before and now that everyone thinks we sank the ship it’s even worse. The roleplay I had to go through last night… If I ever hear ‘breed me, you traitorous bug, or I will tell the guards about you’ again, I swear I’m choking someone with the fluffy cuffs. Thank holes for Cadance and Shining Armor blasting off love almost nightly so that I had something to mix that lust with even if it meant sleeping under their floor glued to the bungalow from below.”

“Smart!” 10013 nods and pouts when it realizes something, “Goop, I could have just waited for Miss Cadance instead of spending my points to feed the guys. That way 36658 wouldn’t be mad at me.”

“It’s a lesson to stop and think before acting,” 387 shrugs and when 10013’s ears slowly droop, he adds: “If it’s any consolation, from the long-term point of view, I think you made the right call.”

“You do?” it’s almost funny how easy it is to make a drone cheer up.

“Yes, I do,” 387 nods, “It shows everyone that you care about them, not just about your veteran group. Granted, I think you overreacted and spent your points way before you had to, but I think it’s better than if you didn’t care at all. In terms of leadership, your heart was in it even though your head wasn’t and, as far as leaders go, I think that’s the better case.”

“Really?” 10013 isn’t sure how to process the rollercoaster of emotions as 387 both bashes and supports its choices, “I thought that you had to be the smartest, strongest, and overall the best to lead. You know? To know everything that can happen to others and to protect them from it.”

387 laughs.

“That’s nonsense, 10013. You can’t be the strongest, the smartest, the fastest, and all the other superlatives at the same time, but you can have the right goal and be inspiring. Look at Chrysalis-”

“I suddenly don’t like where this is going,” 10013 winces. These are ‘getting munched for treason’ kind of thoughts.

“-oh shush, she won’t eat you even if she learns what I’m telling you. Chrysalis isn’t particularly physically strong. I mean she can temporarily boost herself to pretty high levels but I think I could outclass her. She’s really good at mental tricks, but the old number 1? She could mentally twist Chrysalis into a pretzel. She’s not great at long-term strategy or even short-term tactics BUT these days she has a vision for the hive that I want to help her achieve. I don’t trust her not to slip into her old ways but when I had a long talk with 36658 I realized that questioning everything she does won’t help anything. What you’re going through is something she deals with on a much larger scale, and you must learn, just like she had to, that you can’t do everything on your own and the best thing you can do is find the right changelings to supplement your weaknesses.”

“So… if I’m not the smartest drone I just gotta find it?”

“Wrong question. Try to figure out why.”

“Uhh-”

Who do I consider particularly smart? 99111 is smart about all the weird devices, 99380 is the best at manipulating the hive mind, 36658 is the quickest thinker in a pinch…

The answer surfaces.

“-there are too many kinds of smarts to pick just one drone?” 10013 hazards a guess.

“Exactly!” 387 smiles, “The job of a leader is to know what needs to be done and to find the best tools for the job. That’s the only thing the leader needs to be the best at - leadership. Thankfully, as a drone, you don’t need to be persuasive because you guys are obedient. If you had to work with someone who doesn’t want to do the things you need them to do there would be more to it.”

10013 ponders it before hesitantly asking:

“Can I… can I tell 99111 to not use its points to ruin 36658’s High Score stories? I think it has kind of the right idea about the stories possibly making drones careless, but I think it’s not at all as much of a problem as it thinks it is.”

“Sometimes there are several good options, and sometimes even all options can be bad. You just have to pick one and live with it,” 387 nods, “I made books worth of decisions that proved wrong in retrospect. You just have to take the scar, 10013. If you learn from your mistakes, maybe you’ll do better next time.”

“What if I can’t pick a side?”

“There’s no can’t, 10013. Don’t try to avoid responsibility. Not picking a side is just another decision.”

10013 sighs.

“How do I know you picked the right drone for the job? Why am I in charge? We all know that drone ranks don’t mean much anymore.”

“No, they don’t, but they did to you older drones. We knew the veterans would listen to you because of it and the newly hatched ones would learn,” 387 doesn’t need to look at 10013 to understand what its sudden intake of breath means, “10013, I know that sounds exactly wrong, but trust me on this - if you weren’t the right one, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“...I don’t understand…” 10013 stops its objection and just grumbles.

“You don’t have to, just trust your instincts. You’re doing okay.”

10013 just sits there, mulling over 387’s words again and again and getting nowhere. In the end, the ‘trust your instincts’ line wins, and the drone stands up.

“I guess I should get back to finding some job to get back the points I… might have wasted. It’s tough today, though. Everyone seems fine just doing their thing. Is there anything you need done?”

“No, I’m good,” 387 smirks, “But maybe you should rethink your approach. While helping around can make others at ease around us, which we desperately need, Chrysalis also doesn’t want us to be seen only as cheap labor or sex objects.”

“But helping out is a good thing.”

“Hmmm, alright then. I’ll give you a point if you think of a drone weakness and help by figuring out a way to minimize it, how about that?”

“Yesss, directions!” 10013 beams, all recent uncertainty evaporating instantly. Of course, new uncertainty about what 387’s mission entails raises its head, but that’s a problem for future 10013.

“Anything else?” asks 387.

“Nope!” 10013 salutes, “I’m off to minimize!”

As 10013 heads off hive knows where, 387 smirks.

Freedom of self-determination is terrifying, isn’t it? It’s much easier when someone gives you orders, up until the point where the order is ‘go and die for me’ at which point it’s too late. That’s why it’s so difficult to get rid of dictators.

Day 10 - Just another busy day: 3/?

99380 makes it into the sports area that’s empty like the last time it explored this place. It still gives a suspicious glance to the high nets separating the various courts just in case the leggy spinners in these parts are much better at playing the long game compared to the ones at home. No amount of paranoid examination yields results yet again, though, and 99380 has to admit that, just like last time, these nets are not even partially gribbler-made.

Unless…!

Nope, still nothing.

99380 shakes its head and sits down in the corner of the tennis area where it played with the griffon lady several days ago. For some reason it feels a lot longer.

So, what did 10101 say? Close your eyes, breathe slowly, try to not think of anything.

That should be easy…

Totally not thinking about thinking…

I wonder how the guys are doi-

“Gasp! It’s not easy!” 99380’s eyes shoot open, “Hmmm, what would High Score do? Try again? Try again!”

Forcing itself to stop pouting and to close its eyes again, 99380 gives meditation another shot.

Humm hum hmmm!

Critters go tweet tweet bzz-

“Why is everything so loud?” it looks up into the forest canopies surrounding the sports area, “Okay, maybe if I turn my ears off.”

One brief transformation later, now deaf 99380 finally closes its eyes and just focuses on taking in lungfuls of fresh air. Slowly, the dull, throbbing pain in its head weakens to a point where it’s only a constant reminder, a minor nuisance compared to a serious problem distracting it from everything else.

Whether it’s because of an attempt number three or because of the complete silence, it works. Well, it works until 99380 feels something touch its shoulder.

Completely by reflex and before 99380 even knows what’s up, the drone’s legs tense up, kicking it into the air. Wings activate next, making it fly upwards and back. Only after that its eyes open. Eyes aren’t important in immediate danger, fleeing is, as every drone knows! Finally, a transformation returns function to its ears, only to hear itself let out a surprised-

“AAH?!”

-as its back hits the court net, its wings get caught in the webbing’s holes and, when it stops flapping, 99380 falls down and remains hanging by its hind legs.

“Geez,” a familiar, friendly, and amused female voice is followed by a quick flap of wings and 99380 finds itself gently pulled out by a set of talons which, when the situation calms down, prove to belong to the griffon sports lady from before, “I’ve never surprised anyone so hard their head burst into flames. Are you okay?” she asks.

“Hi, Miss! Sorry for spooking you, Miss,” 99380 meekly smiles at her upside down, “I was trying to meditate but everything was so loud and distracting that I turned my ears off and… it was you who poked me, right?” it looks around.

“Yes, it was. I called out at first and came over when you didn’t react. Now I know why,” when 99380 fails to free its hind legs by ineffective flailing, she adds: “Let me help. I’ll support you from below and you just move your legs forward. You’re stuck on some hooked piece of your carapace.”

99380, like a good drone, does what it’s told, propping its forelegs against the griffon chick’s back as she stands underneath, and carefully unhooks itself from the net.

“Whaah-!”

*Slam!*

Drones aren’t made for balancing on someone’s back with only their forelegs, and 99380 just unceremoniously keels over and splats on the ground. Thankfully, the current ‘playground’ is a tennis court so its impact only raises a small cloud of orange dust.

“Are you okay?” the griffoness dusts herself off and rushes to help.

“All good,” 99380 pushes itself up, “Are you here to play games again? We made up a table game with small models and dice, but it’s not about jumping and running like your bouncy ball ones.”

She nods to a white bag at the entrance to the court from which protrudes a handle of a tennis racket.

“I was going to play some tennis against a wall, but since there’s two of us now we can play volleyball.”

“Volley… that’s the one about bouncing over the net, isn’t it?” 99380 looks around for the right court and points to one nearby, “We played it there!”

“Mhm,” she nods, heading off to her bag, “So, are you up for a few rounds or do you want to get back to meditating? I didn’t know you changelings did it too.”

“A friend recommended it to me because I did too much thinking and learning yesterday and my thinky ball hurt a lot when I woke up. I think I was doing it wrong, though,” 99380 follows her.

“Hah! I know the feeling,” the griffoness pats 99380 with her wing, “I felt exactly the same when I was cramming for my finals at the university. What a horrible week that was, but I found out that physical activity helped a lot.”

“Really?” asks 99380 as they leave the tennis court, “Thinking hurts and not thinking is surprisingly hard, so if I just bonk the ball I’ll feel better?”

She chuckles.

“Only one way to find out.”

***

“How does one minimize a weakness?” 10013 mumbles to itself, now sitting on the roof of a building on the northern edge of the resort with a clear view of the whole area, “Okay, find a drone weakness first,” it scratches its head, “Too much liking of noms? Too easily distracted by shinies? Panicking quickly? Hmmm, the first two aren’t that much trouble back home, and the last one… maybe some fleeing practice would help? 65536 said it keeps training with its slashy even though it almost never uses it for real. Hah!” it’s face brightens up, “I think I’ve got it!”

“Stop right there, criminal scum!” a rough voice comes from behind, accompanied by a buffet of wings.

“I’m totally stopped, and I don’t think I’m a criminal,” replies 10013, not moving, “I think I could use a bit of a wash, thanks!”

“This is a security vantage point. Leave immediately!”

“Okay!” 10013 takes it as a permission to look around and sees one of the resort griffon guards watching it with narrowed eyes, “Have a nice day!” it waves and flies off in a straight line towards the secluded section of the beach where it did yoghurt yesterday.

I hope he doesn’t want anything else. I don’t have time to spend in the GIL. Wait, would getting out of GIL count as shoring up a weakness? Maybe, but I doubt the high ranks would be happy with us messing around with the shouty griffons.

Thankfully, the griffon doesn’t call out again and 10013 lands on the beach shortly after.

“So… swimming,” it looks at the calm sea, “We know the right transformation now, and that should help us explore caverns we had to avoid so far. Holes, we can even try out 10101’s ideas and drain them,” a realization washes over 10013, one so powerful it can just stand there with a slowly dropping jaw, “We can… change things.”

Moments pass.

“Alright, 10013, breathe!” the drone mumbles to itself, “You’re thinking too big right now, just don’t forget all the great ideas before you get back home. What can I make better right now? Uhh, why was I here?” it stares blankly at the sea for a moment, “Riiight, swimming! So, step one - figure out what the core of the problem is.”

10013 marches off into the sea until the water reaches up to its chin.

“So, why exactly doesn’t swimming work for us if everyone else thinks it’s easy? I’ve seen others do it enough around here to know how it’s supposed to be done,” 10013 takes a deep breath and kicks itself ahead while paddling with its forelegs.

It immediately sinks like a rock. Sea water swirls around its head, but 10013 remains in control enough to avoid breathing in immediately. However, panic still sets in quickly and the drone’s sloppy but admittedly workable swimming form breaks as it starts flailing and kicking. Its hooves hit the sandy floor and 10013 pushes itself up.

The water is still only neck-deep.

10013 shakes its head while gasping for breath.

“Bleh! That’s not even just salty water, that’s weird bitter salty water,” it returns closer to the beach so that it can sit down and think, “The air balloon transformation would work just fine, but what if we don’t have the love to transform? It’s not that bad back home anymore but you can always get in trouble. We’re heavy and leg holes are the problem so… how to get rid of the holes without whooshing?”

10013 facehoofs.

“The answer is always the same, isn’t it? Goop! There’s always goop, even though it won’t last long without love,” it raises its foreleg, concentrates, and its leg holes slowly fill up with goop secreting from the edge of each hole and hardening despite the sea water, “Take two, breathe in, go!”

And that does it. Granted, swimming is still difficult due to drone weight but the density of seawater allows 10013 to finally swim like a pony, albeit not for too long. With that discovery, 10013 can’t stop itself from paddling around for around ten more minutes before it returns to the beach, water draining from under its carapace.

While a discovery like this is bound to be helpful even at home, it still doesn’t feel big enough to present in order to gain points.

I guess I’ll have to work on multiple smaller discoveries like this.

As 10013 slowly dries up as it’s strolling along the beach, a growing feeling of something being very wrong begins gnawing at it. It does take several moments to figure out the exact details and when 10013 does, it shudders.

“Itchy itchy itchy!”

Something presumably related to the sea water is stuck under its carapace and it starts to grind and itch with each step.

“Oh goop,” 10013 puts two and two together, “Now I understand why Miss Clara and Miss Cadance took a shower after swimming in the sea. But why is this the first time- ohhhhh,” 10013 experimentally buzzes its wings as hard as it can, scattering salt crystals around itself, “It’s because of Mister Shiny’s carapace design! Water gets under it much easier. Is that something I could fix or improve?”

Thankfully, while 10013 muttering to itself and occasionally stopping to examine the joints on its foreleg does draw some looks from the morning guests, no one bothers it on its trip back to the suite where it finally enters the bathroom which, so far, only served for a random drone to occasionally sleep in the tub. This time, the target is the shower stall in the corner.

“This looks like the showers on the ship - red knob, blue knob,” it tests the stream of water from the nozzle activated by twisting either one, “Warm, cold. Easy. Now… how do I clean under my carapace?”

One flash of green fire follows, and an extremely uncertain 10013 raises its entirely chitin-less foreleg and lets the water wash over it.

“This feels weeeeeeeird.”

Even more experimentation later, entirely ‘naked’, at least from the neck down, 10013 raises itself into a standing position for a few moments and quickly realizes that standing up without the support of a carapace is akin to some of the more problematic yoghurt exercises, so it sits down again and just lets the water do its job as it slips into the hive mind.

“Voice?” it speaks out to no one.

“Yes?”

“Do you know how to work with the hive mind?”

“Likely not in the way you’d like me to, but tell me what you need.”

“Well, Mister Shiny helped make us new carapaces so that we can move better, but it looks like there’s too much open space in places and I’m worried some nasties could creep under it. Like now. I’m all salty. I mean, that’s not a nasty creeping under it, that’s just water-”

“I understand,” the voice interrupts it, “It shouldn’t be difficult. Imagine you’re talking to a drone like you do when you gather here as a group. You’re automatically projecting images whenever you do so, just tap into it.”

After some focus, the blackness of the hive mind ‘waiting room’ reveals a still, three-dimensional image of 36658.

“Whoah, I didn’t know I could do that,” 10013 blinks in surprise.

“You are a changeling, even with your stunted instincts, you just need a little help. The hive mind is there to support you in many more ways than simple communication.”

“Okay. So, I need to change the carapace around the knee- wow!” 10013 points at the image of 36658 and its carapace grows, following the motion of 10013’s hoof, ”That’s so neat!”

“Don’t lose focus, you’re the one doing this,” the voice warns the drone.

“Right, righty right!” 10013 starts feeling pressure behind its forehead, but it sure as holes doesn’t stop it from carapace design improvements. It loses itself in its work, knowing well that it has enough time until the shower washes away the sand and salt from its sea experiment.

***

No sooner than 10013 senses the familiar hive link of 20100, it hears the opening of the suite door followed by the grinding of something on the floor and a series of grunts of effort accompanying it. Its focus returns back to the real world and, while the improved carapace design isn’t finished, this could be a good time to get some feedback because some of 10013’s design changes are subtle and will require testing.

10013 immediately rushes out to greet 20100, water still streaming from it. It would be difficult to explain to an outsider the exact depth of the relief the drone leader instinctively feels, suffice to say that if a drone didn’t return to the safe tunnels after worky time, it was unlikely they’d ever see it again. The fact that they’re in a much safer place now means nothing to 10013’s unconscious which makes the drone beam from ear to ear when it darts out of the bathroom with a:

“Hiiii, 20100!”

“Whaaaah?!” 20100, halfway through taking its massive backpack off, chokes when it sees the carapace-less 10013, and this time manages to slip through the straps, charge right out of the suite, and slam the door behind it. Roughly twenty steps down the hall, its head finally catches up to what happened, “Waaaaait a moment…”

“10013, was that really you?” it asks mentally, turning to face the suite door with a suspicious expression and still ready to immediately bolt.

“Yup. What’s wrong?” replies 10013, peeking out of the suite into the hall.

“Well- I- you’re- uhhh, your carapace,” is all 20100 can say.

“Ohhhhh, long story. I found some flaws in Mister Shiny’s armor design and I tried to fix them while taking a shower. Are you okay?” it adds when sensing slowly draining panic from 20100’s link.

“Yeah… yeah…” 20100 takes a deep breath to calm itself down, “It’s just… when I saw you like that… I- Do you remember death tunnel ppdj-12sx8?”

“Oh…” is all 10013 can say, “I’ve never been there but I heard it was really bad.”

“Yeah,” 20100 finally gathers enough courage to return back to the suite. As it does so, 10013 returns to turn the shower off and transform from its ‘muscular, dark green, hairless cat’ mode back into the armored little bughorse that it is, “There were drones hanging from the ceiling everywhere, bloated with their carapace stripped. They were all… calling for help but the links didn’t reach too far. I tried to take one down and it just burst from the inside and something fell out and tried to crawl after me. And it kept calling in my head but I knew the drone was dead already. I couldn’t move. I- 9999 came and- That was the only time I know of when high ranks helped us bury the area without complaints or a punishment.”

20100 shudders, but breathes out a sigh of relief when 10013 returns in all its chitinous glory. Immediately, 10013 trots over and hugs 20100.

“But you can still hear them- hear something even now when you get close enough,” 20100 mutters, “It’s been years…”

“Shhh, buddy,” 10013 grabs 20100’s head and boops its nose with its own, “What’s all this?” it nods towards the backpack bursting in the seams to change the subject.

“Huh, oh?” 20100 seems to finally snap out of it, “It’s stuff!” it beams, “I only know what some of it is for but it looked neat so I bought everyone something. There’s a bunch of mechanical tickers for 99111, a tiny radio for 99380, a whole lot of thingies!”

“They’ll be so happy when they return,” 10013 lets go of 20100 and gives it some breathing room, “I gotta say I was a bit worried when you spent the night, uhh, not here.”

“Sorry about that, I got a bit carried away. On the other hole, I got a bunch of points for giving the Queen and 99 something for their guidance throughout the trip. I didn’t find 387 so I left his gift at the Queen’s place but I didn’t get a point for it.”

[10013:0, 20100:9, 36658:4, 99111:4, 99380:6, 99526:3, Smiley:6,

65536:3]

“Wooooow, we’re tied again!” 10013’s eyes go wide, “And if I get that point 387 promised we’ll be in the lead! 36658 won’t be mad at me anymore.”

“I’ve got something for you too, but it’s still a work in progress,” 20100 scratches its head, “More like still just pieces I need to start working with. I’ll get to it as soon as I unpack everything. Speaking of which, did your carapace experiment work?”

“Totally!” 10013 starts helping 20100 unbuckle everything and take out a large number of small boxes and packed up items from its backpack, “This way it’ll be much more resistant against sand, salt from sea water, and grime from the water back home. The plates slide over each other,” it waves its foreleg at various angles to show it, “and there are inside bits around the joints that stop the plates from going too far and cutting the squishy part of your leg off in case you’re carrying something super heavy or if something drops on you.”

“Sounds awesome, but wasn’t the idea of the new carapaces to have us strengthen our muscles by not using our armors as a support?”

10013 freezes.

“Goop!” it facehoofs, “I completely forgot. I was trying so hard to not get all scratchy and sandy again that I missed the whole point,” it sighs, “I guess I won’t be getting that point so easily.”

“Hey, why can’t we have more carapaces anyway? One for worky time and one for breaky time,” 20100 looks at 10013, head tilted, “It’s not like just knowing one more pre-set transformation would burn too much love or anything.”

“Huh. Huuuuuh,” 10013 blinks. 20100 is right, of course, “Why didn’t I think of that? I should have thought of that.”

“You’re thinking of that now, that’s all that matters,” 20100 shrugs, “Where is everyone, by the way? I was expecting 99380 to be glued to the radio like always.”

“Oh, right!” 10013 fiddles with its current cargo to make it fit on the table, “Did you catch the weird tremor in the morning? 10101 was worried about it and the guys are on the way to the underground place to see what it’s all about-”

They keep unpacking as 10013 fills 20100 in on everything that’s happened in the morning.

Author's Note

Okay, I'm still barely managing to put an update out on time, but the project at work is ending and I might be out of work in June for who knows how long. I just hope I won't become a Nom-less Narrator.

Day 10 - Just another busy day: 4/?

“-aaand then I peeked out of the shower and spooked you,” 10013 finishes its recap of the day so far.

“Huh, so we’re just waiting for 10101’s message now?” 20100’s backpack has been unpacked successfully and the drone is now sorting the boxes and paper packages into piles.

“Pretty much,” 10013 nods, “Once we know what we’re dealing with I’d like to find 387 and see if my experiments are worth the point he promised.”

“Why don’t you go now?” offers 20100, “I’ll be busy here anyway so I can listen to the radio. If I hear 10101’s message I’ll poke you.”

“Really?” 10013 smiles, “That’ll be so much more efficient than both of us sitting here! Like half as efficient because there will be only one of us instead of two- wait, is that how math works? It feels off… It’s less, not more.”

“Is it less inefficient?” 20100 hazards a guess.

“Ha! That’s gotta be it,” 10013 nods, heading off to the balcony, “I’m gonna look for 387 then. Bye, and thanks!”

“No problem, buddy,” 20100 waves at it and immediately reaches for the moldable plastic sheets so far hidden from 10013’s sight, “Oof, this is going to be a toughie. What did the user guide that Mister Trestle read to me on the way say? Step one was to heat the sheet up, right? Remember, 20100, no goop around open flames. Holes know where the radio would fly off to.”

***

99380 successfully bounces off the griffoness’ serve back to her over the net in a nasty angle that forces her to run to the net, jump, and slide the remain of the distance to bounce it back with her forelegs. 99380, however, instead of bouncing the ball again and winning the exchange, slips under the net, asking:

“Are you okay, Miss sporty?”

She coughs inside the settling cloud of dust, and says:

“I’m fine. You, on the other talon, are doing so much better than last time! Did you practice?”

“Nu uh!” 99380 shakes its head vigorously as if accused of cheating, “I stopped thinking and just bonked the ball. My head doesn’t hurt that much anymore either. I’m starting to like this sports thing, even if it burns love a lot.”

“It… burns love?” she tilts her head.

“We’re changelings, we eat love,” 99380 explains cheerfully, “I can feel you love this sports thing a lot so I’m not getting tired that much while we‘re playing.”

“Wait, you’ve been feeding from me this whole time?” her tone grows colder.

“Uh oh…” 99380 immediately tries to look as small as possible, “I said the thing I wasn’t supposed to say.”

“Come on, you can’t not explain what you’ve just said,” her voice softens a little, seeing the drone’s growing distress.

“When you guys, non-changelings. like someone or like doing something, you grow this pink-ish cloud around you and we can kinda absorb it. It’s food. I think high ranks do it differently but we drones don’t,” 99380’s ears droop, “Normally, high ranks feed us just by transferring love. Or hugs from you squishes work too. Oh, and Princess Cadance can do it best!”

She watches it fidget and look at the ground for a few moments before sighing and shaking her head:

“You know what? That’s a rabbit hole I’m not going deeper into,” she pats 99380’s head, making it cheer up and give her an apologetic smile, “How about we try something different?”

“Sure!” 99380 perks up as if the last minute didn’t happen at all, “More head-empty sports?”

The presumed adjective forces her to defend the subject, but it’s clear that the drone doesn’t mean it as an insult, unlike some griffons she knows.

“There is actually a lot of thinking involved in competitive sports, but since we’re just messing around we can do your version,” she stands up and heads off to her backpack, “Let’s go. We can try basketball.”

“Basket ball? I saw a whole bunch of baskets by the road on the way here, but they were full of all kinds of scraps, not balls,” 99380 follows her, swishing its short legs to keep up while turning its head over and over from her to the road.

“Heh. Those are trash cans, not the kind of baskets I’m talking about. Basketball is a game about precision and coordination. The goal is to throw a ball through a hoop in the air. It’s called basket because in the old days they actually did use straw baskets instead of just hoops.”

“Sounds pretty easy,” comments 99380 as they walk.

“It’s not. There are two teams, two hoops, and one ball, each team trying to prevent the other from throwing the ball through the opponent’s hoop.”

“But if the goal is to hit the hoop, just imagine how many more hoops they could hit if they worked together!”

“Uhh, well, I mean… maybe? It’s a competitive sport, though, so…” she genuinely doesn’t know how to finish the sentence.

“Maybe the working together version could be the drone kind I could show the guys back home! Hee hee,” 99380 giggles giddily, “So, what other rules are there besides throwing goop through hoop? I mean ball, but we’ll be using goop, I think. The non- uhh, the less explosive kind.”

“Umm, the difficulty of the game stems from the rule that you can only move with the ball while dribbling.”

“Dribbling?” 99380 gives her a puzzled look, “Like thi-ppshshf?” some goopy drool drips out of its mouth, “Ah donpf fink itsh oo fard!”

“I- *snrk!* just- stop guessing, I’ll show you,” the griffoness looks away, forcing her beak to stay shut with overwhelming willpower.

“No guessing, thinky ball empty,” 99380 beams.

***

There are three figures in the back of the yacht slowly returning to the Ataraki resort, all propped against the railing and looking at the foam trail left behind the ship.

“Kinda wish our testimony was enough to keep the changelings out of trouble,” says Ten, for once outside of his Paladin armor and wearing only a white tabard with the symbol of the sun.

“This is politics, reality has no power here,” Bright Star shakes his head, “Without proof they weren’t involved we can only rely on there not being any real evidence that they did sink the ship. That would fly in Equestria but not here. No matter how unsubstantiated the changeling sabotage story is, the only part that the griffons will spread is that, even if someone figured out who did it.”

“Wait, really?” Gem shoots him a surprised look, reminding Bright Star that despite her athletic-MILF zebra shape and meteoric rise in influence and knowledge back in Canterlot, she’s still just a changeling younger than the veteran drones in the resort, “We can put together a pretty reliable story.”

“Griffons are the problem here,” Ten sighs wistfully, “Ponies would listen, especially unicorns with the knowledge of how basic mind reading works, but even if you presented a substantiated narrative, griffons would always blow it off. Besides, all the proof you wanted to find was gone.”

“On top of that, who would suspect a small security company to be able to pull this off without a trace?” Bright Star sighs.

“But they didn’t, that’s the point,” Gem frowns, “You spent our first day on the ship searching for threats through magical and non-magical means. You would have found explosives if they were onboard. I know one thing about Miss Sun Hammer and that’s that she’s thorough, knowledgeable, and an excellent magic user despite her looking like that chainmail bikini wearing barbarian lady from those eastern comics. While you were doing that, though, Quest’s guys were doing the same. One of them must have forgotten to lock the same specific area of the maintenance deck while looking for a palace where to plant the bombs, and Smiley must have wandered in. Possibly they might have even lured it there just to have a recorded changeling intrusion incident. I wish I could read Smiley’s mind better, but going deeper than the past few hours is just a mess.”

“Saying this to a jury would only make things worse. No one would believe a changeling wandering through the right area by accident. At best it would be the same scouting attempt we would be accusing Quest Security of,” counters Bright Star.

“Obviously, there’s more. 99380 saw the camouflaged raft they must have used to get the explosives on board, and as the storm hit it caught radio communications between someone on the ship and someone following it. The same someone whom 10013 saw while it was on the observation deck atop the ship later. As for the areas along the crack accessed by the changelings, the same areas were only accessible by the security.”

“Gem, we believe you. I checked the drones’ heads too, even though not in as much detail. I just know they didn’t do it and they were the ones not being constantly watched, unlike Chrysalis, 387, and 99,” Ten exchanges looks with Bright Star.

“But without photo evidence or something we’re not getting anywhere,” adds the older paladin wearing his Hawaiian t-shirt and sunglasses, “And before you suggest that - no, we’re not tying Quest in a cellar somewhere and letting you wring his head for information. The same goes for truth serums and magic. One single misstep and we’d cause so much more trouble than if we just let the situation play out while keeping a protective hoof over the changelings in the resort.”

“I just want to know what the endgame is,” this time it’s Gem who sighs, “Because Quest’s guys planned it way in advance, otherwise they wouldn’t have had the survival tools ready in the jungle.”

“And, as both we and the changelings discovered, they cleaned up perfectly after themselves and used the preservation treaty with the natives as cover,” Ten looks into the distance, “From my infiltrator standpoint, it’s impressive work.”

“Gem, I hate to say it, but we’re not putting Quest or anypony behind bars for this,” says Bright Star, “Especially when they made such a good impression by rescuing everypony from the sinking ship and subsequently ensuring their ‘survival in the wilderness’.”

Gem grits her teeth.

“I despise this. From what I heard from my dad and everyone, Chrysalis isn’t worth a single second of worrying, but I know the drones don’t deserve any of the dirty looks.”

Ten and Bright Star exchange knowing glances.

Three.

***

As 10013 lands by the spot where it found 387 earlier today, the warrior is nowhere to be seen.

I guess it makes sense that he wouldn’t be sitting here all day. What to do? What to do? Smart voice, are you there?

“Yes,” comes the reply.

“I can’t sense 387, not even his direction. Do you know where he could be?” 10013 switches into hive link speech, feeling only slightly awkward now after several previous exchanges with the voice.

“Yes,” says the voice after a brief pause.

“Umm, can you tell me?” 10013 notices the pause and uncertainty creeps into its mental voice.

“No, for some reason I can’t quite voice, I don’t think I should do that.”

“Umm, sorry if I’m bothering you too much,” 10013 scratches its head.

“That’s not it,” the voice hesitates, “I feel like I appeared to guide you but not to do things for you, but I have no idea where that principle came from.”

“Oh, is that all?” 10013 tilts its head without any clue how weird it must look in the real world, just sitting on the road and occasionally twitching, “Can you guide me to 387?”

“Can you sense any changeling presence in general?”

“For sure! 20100 isn’t too far so I can even recognize it. One is coming from the workshop. It’s weak but I think it’s 36658. One is coming from… thataway!” it points vaguely towards the northeast, “99380, probably, because- wait, there’s more? I should be too far from the Queen if she’s in her sea shack but I can’t identify what the source of that is. It’s weak.”

“Then explore. I can only help you unlock your own potential.”

10013 flies up and heads off into the specified direction, asking:

“You said you appeared to guide me. When did that happen?”

“Yesterday.”

“You can talk to the others, right?”

“Only you drones.”

“Aaand who was the first drone you talked to, me?”

“No, 36658.”

“Huh. What did you talk about?”

“It believed I was the voice of someone called High Score.”

“And are you?”

“No.”

“Are you sure? You’re doing very High Score things. All the showing the way and stuff just like 36658 says all the time.”

“I am sure. I have no identity, I just help in the way I’m supposed to.”

10013 shrugs.

“Story checks out.”

***

“Please, either stop following me, 387, or do it in a way that I don’t notice,” says 99, who is sitting in a plastic chair put out onto one of the wider streets two levels above the promenade by a smoothie vendor, as she puts her cup of mint-lime down and looks directly towards a tree nearby, “Or better yet, come out and tell me why you’re doing it all of a sudden.”

To the warrior’s credit, he slips out from behind an entirely different bush across the street, making 99 shoot him a surprised glance. As if nothing happened, 387 walks over, sits down, and waves at the vendor with:

“One large forest berry selection, please, and bill it to the changeling delegation on 387.”

The smoothie-vending mare checks something inside her booth, looks at 99, nods to herself, and disappears inside before both changelings start hearing a blender go off.

“So?” 99 raises an eyebrow.

“A real rank 99 infiltrator would notice me way earlier, even with the suppressor on,” is all 387 says while looking 99 directly in the eyes which she rolls.

“Are you still on this? Why?”

“I want to know why Chrysalis is protecting you by lying about your rank to everyone,” he states directly.

“Because there are idiots in the hive, just like you, who can’t let the past stay in the past,” she lowers her voice, “Unfortunately, unlike you, they’re like that for the wrong reason,” as 387 takes a breath to say something, 99 raises her hoof, “The Queen’s words, not mine. Truth be told, I don’t even know what it means, she just warned me shortly after I hatched that I should keep my eyes open and not trust someone without a good reason. Drones excluded.”

That seems to catch 387 off guard. He was expecting lies, evasion, anything other than… nonsense?

“Uhh, what?”

“She warned me about you before this trip too,” adds 99, “but after you said I wasn’t an infiltrator in front of her she knew you wouldn’t let it go and allowed me to tell you the truth. Her words, again, were - if he gets agitated, just leave. He’ll end up yelling at me anyway and I’ve learned to tune him out.”

387’s eye twitches.

“Your smoothie, umm, sir,” the mare arrives just in time to stop 387 from saying something stupid, the warrior thanks her, and instead starts vigorously sucking the icy blend through a straw.

The second conversation stopper arrives moments later as 387 is still pondering how to proceed in the form of 10013.

“Hi!” it notices the warrior’s narrowed eyes locked on 99, and adds, “Umm, wrong timing?”

“No, no, feel free to sit down,” 99 smiles at it and 387 bites through the straw. As he spits it out, 99 calls out, “One more blueberry smoothie on me, please! So, what did you want, 10013?”

“I, well, I talked to 387 earlier and he said I could get a point by figuring out a drone weakness and fixing it, so I tried a few things and I wanted to talk about it,” 10013’s eyes dart from 387 to 99 repeatedly.

“What a good idea,” 99 nods approvingly, “387, what do you think?”

“You’re not wiggling your way out of this, 99,” he frowns.

“Hmmm,” the infiltrator rubs her chin, “Hey, 10013, how do you feel about Silents?”

“Smiley’s great! Are some others still around?” 10013 takes the hook in the form of something it understands.

“Not as far as I know. No, I was asking about Silents in general, about the Queen’s idea of creating a customized changeling for a specific job with no autonomy.”

10013 ponders it for a while before asking:

“Umm, isn’t that all of us? I mean, we exist to dig tunnels and carry stuff. We can do other things during breaky time but that’s only because the Queen said we could. Any high rank can make us do anything with mind tricks anyway,” it shrugs in the end.

99 stares at 10013 for a moment before patting its head.

“So you don’t see any major difference between Silents and you, right?”

“Not really, at least not at work,” says 10013, “Is that different for you? I thought the Queen can just tell you to do something and you gotta do it.”

“One blueberry smoothie,” the vendor puts the fresh drink in front of 99 who pushes it to 10013.

“I don’t have any shinies,” the drone looks nervously at 99.

“It’s paid for. Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay!’” 10013 starts sipping through the straw. When a high rank tells you not to worry, you stop worrying. Well, maybe you still worry a little if the situation calls for it, but this smoothie thing doesn’t seem dangerous, “Oooh, cold! Tastes like, uhh- we should really come up with a drone word for ‘I have absolutely no idea’, especially if we get to go outside of the tunnels more often at some point.”

“It’s blueberry,” explains 99, “Small berries that grow in the forest, mostly black or grey with a blue tint.”

“Now that’s a good drone name for something!” 10013 approves.

“Now where were we?” muses 99, “Ah, right! 387, you were asking what I was, and the answer is simple - I’m a changeling. Think before you say anything.”

387 opens his plastic cup to finish the smoothie off and to buy himself some time. 99 might be weak and unskilled for her rank but from what he’s gathered so far she’s not stupid.

She related her situation to the Silents, and she thinks I would chew out Chrysalis if she told me straight up.

“She returned to her genetic engineering nonsense with you, didn’t she?” 387 puts the cup down and crosses his forelegs on his chest, “So what are you supposed to be? Some biological superweapon that would take time to develop but is fragile and weak now, and in order to offset that she somehow covered your real rank so no ‘traditionalist’ tries to kill you to prove themselves?”

“I already told you, 387,” 99 shakes her head with a smile, “I’m a changeling, that’s all. 10013, are you keeping up with what I’m saying?”

“You’re a changeling!” 10013 briefly stops sucking its straw and nods.

“And if I’m not saying I’m a warrior, or an infiltrator, or a drone, or the Queen, or any other strange biological castes we can become, what does it mean?”

“Hmmm, you don’t punch things but 65536 said you did some pushies and pullies with it, you’re not snooty but you can do big time hive mind stuff, I don’t think you can dig but you can carry stuff too, and you… uhh… I don’t know about Queen stuff. But you can do all of the rest so… you just do what you want?”

“See, 387?” 99 scratches 10013 behind the ear and the drone resumes enjoying the smoothie, its role finished, “The drone gets it, it just can’t put it into the right words.”

“No, I do get it,” 387 shakes his head, “I just find it hard to believe that CHRYSALIS of all changelings spent her final uses of the monstrosity she calls the genetic reconstitution chamber to make ‘just some guy’. Or ‘gal’ in your case.”

“Funny, she said you were the one who inspired her, since you are as much a warrior as I am an infiltrator. She didn’t explain that part, though.”

“Good,” 387 makes a pyramid of his hooves and puts his chin on it, observing 99. In reality, though, he’s drawing blanks on what to say. On one hole, Chrysalis’ genetic engineering attempts were always horrendous and not being against this might encourage her to delve into them once again. On the other, she tried to make a changeling, an individual entity instead of a tool for a job, which is what changeling classes are.

“Thanks for scaring me, though,” 99 frowns, “I didn’t really think about what will happen back home if anyone realizes what rank 99 means. They understand it with the drones, and it’s only a matter of time before-”

“Chrysalis will personally execute anyone who attacks you, and she will know if that happens.”

“That won’t exactly un-eat my ass, will it?”

“Then I guess it’s up to you to prove Chrysalis that her genetic manipulation can do some good, because I sure as holes am not a believer,” 387 shrugs, “I’m trying really hard to give Chrysalis the benefit of the doubt but every time I almost think she’s not her old self I find something that convinces me otherwise. I’m pretty sure not even you know what’s inside you.”

99 sighs.

“I was hoping you would help me if I told you everything, and I’m pretty sure the Queen thought that too, that’s why she allowed me to tell you.”

“I won’t be the one stabbing you in the back as long as you don’t become a tool for returning the hive to the dark ages we are so painstakingly slowly crawling out of,” 387 glares at her, “If that’s not enough for you, your problem.”

“I was hoping for something along the lines of a friend, or at least an ally, who would teach me a trick or two to protect myself.”

“Hah! And have Chrysalis learn how I evaded her for so long? No. If you want combat training from someone whom you can trust to not ‘accidentally’ cut your head off, go talk to 65536,” 387 snickers.

“What?” 99 tilts her head, “Are you serious?”

“Without love enhancements, I’m pretty sure it’s physically stronger than you, and not by a little. On top of that, while it probably never stabbed anyone with that guard spear they use in Canterlot, I’m pretty sure it knows its way around a blackjack.”

99 resists instinctively objecting and gives herself a moment to think by sipping a smoothie.

This IS 387’s way of helping.

“Alright, I’ll give it a shot,” she says after a while but can’t resist taking a jab at the warrior, “If nothing then to see how much your wisdom is worth.”

Before anyone can say anything else, the slurping and scratching noises of final bits of a smoothie being sucked through a straw come from 10013 who wisely avoided speaking unless spoken to.

“Well, now that we settled that,” 99 changes the topic, “What was that about points, 10013?”

“Ah, right! I improved Mister Shiny’s carapace design for worky time and I’m working on a new one for breaky time that’s not protective at all and makes us use our own muscles a bit more. I based it on Miss Cadance’s yoghurt clothes. I think it might cost us some love at first but we’ll grow a lot stronger quickly. Look!” 10013 shares both designs via a hive link.

“Hawaiian T-shirt and shorts?” snickers 387 before examining the design and facehoofing, “No… worse. So much worse.”

“You know, I never thought about how a drone in yoga pants and a compression T-shirt would look,” 99 whistles, “The muscles get kinda lost under the normal bulky carapace. They’re like stockier, tiny warriors.”

“Here’s your point, but no drones are, under ANY circumstances, allowed to show up in public using that design. At home, no problem. Here? We’re not having all those aged horndog griffonesses repeating that Clara situation en masse,” says the warrior.

“Yay! 36658 will be so happy we’re pushing our lead!” 10013 beams.

“And here’s one from me for mediating this conversation,” adds 99, “I doubt it would be this pleasant without you around.”

[10013:2, 20100:9, 36658:4, 99111:4, 99380:6, 99526:3, Smiley:6, 65536:3]

“Eeeeeee!” 10013’s wings start buzzing on their own in pure excitement and relief, “Now everyone is well fed and I don’t have to feel bad for-”

“10013, calling 10013!” the drone leader hears 20100’s mental voice come through a long-range link provided by 99380 and immediately feels 99 and 387 tap into its head, “I’m pretty sure the radio just started repeating something that sounds like a message from 10101, and I don’t like the words it’s saying.”

Day 10 - Just another busy day: 5/7

Thankfully, the trip up the Ataraki volcano’s terraces to the level containing the city ruins proved entirely uneventful for the trio of drones and a mechanical pony disguised as one. 99111 even had the idea for 99526 to ride backwards on Smiley’s back by the final stretch just to be able to look around without it seeming suspicious, but no one noticed any griffons following them, and other than disturbing the chirping wildlife above their presence seems to have gone unnoticed. The drones were mostly quiet all the way, on the lookout for any threats, but that changed shortly after the “gravestone” entrance to the Silversmith facility’s security tunnel closed behind them.

10101’s crystalline red horn lights up, revealing metal stairs leading down.

“Why are the walls so shiny and smooth?” 99111’s curiosity can’t be contained anymore in this unknown area, “What’s that shiny down there? How did you make stones talk? Why are there ridges on the stairs- wait, those are against slipping, am I remembering it right? Where’s Smiley going?”

The Silent, now in a familiar enclosed territory again, casually walks past without any hesitation and heads down the staircase. The rest follow 10101 who doesn’t even pause but is physically the slowest out of the group.

“My assumption is that it knows the area isn’t dangerous and sees no reason to wait. Don’t worry, the door at the bottom of the tunnel will stop it,” replies the robot, “As for your other questions, my general answer will have to be - you have no reference point for this level of technology so detailed explanations will mean nothing to you. Every design I taught you was in the area of basic mechanical engineering while the things we use rely on… significantly complicated engineering methods.”

“Awww…” 99111 pokes the wall with its foreleg mid-step, “Whoa! Waaaait, the material is almost the same as your body!”

“Our main forging and building material is called istrium. As far as we know, it doesn’t exist naturally in the physical universe, rather it appears in the form of black crystals at sites where tears into the void occur. If you ask ‘what is that?’ regarding everything I say, my answer will be the one I stated before,” 10101 preempts 99111’s opening mouth, “The void is a place- a thing- a quantum state of nonexistence incompatible with our reality. Imagine our reality - this world, the stars, other planets, the universe as a whole as a ball in the sea.”

“Uh huh,” 99111 nods.

“There’s a membrane defining the ball and if it breaks then the air inside the ball will escape and everything will collapse. But if you cut only small holes in the ball and then fix them quickly enough you get some sea water to do what you want with. The analogy is absolutely incorrect but I don’t think I can explain it better to you.”

“Stuff and all is on the inside, if you go outside or if too much of the outside gets inside, you drown,” 99111 winces, its head immediately returning to its accident on the cruise ship that now feels as if it happened ages ago, “But if you get only a bit of the water stuff from the outside, you can make a pool to swim in if you know how.”

10101 pauses, not only to open the door ahead via the fixed, glowing panel by its side, but also to consider that 99111 might be smarter than it presumed.

“Well said, 99111,” it says as the door opens. This time, Smiley doesn’t rush ahead but simply walks into the wider hallway and waits, “If the drones who were here before shared the map of this place with you, we’ll be heading towards the bay where they found this chassis. There’s a linking port inside where I can connect to the facility’s systems properly and synchronize this body’s findings with the Assistant Intelligence. The wireless connection currently isn’t stable enough to examine everything happening quickly. However, it’s clear that emergency security protocols have been engaged since I left. Let’s pick up the pace.”

“Security?” 99526 looks around nervously, “Will someone try to chase us out?”

“Not if we follow the route I showed the others previously,” 10101 shakes its head, “It will only take several minutes, so I can answer the rest of your questions.”

“-” 99111 opens its mouth, immediately getting interrupted again.

“Question one - what was that shiny?” 10101 continues, “Simply a light source. The entire tunnel would have been lit for safety reasons but, as I said to the others, the facility was damaged during a volcanic eruption several centuries ago. Question two - how do you make stones talk? The easiest explanation is that there is a device similar to the radio you know, only much more advanced, set into the wall.”

99111 nods, its questions indeed answered, and resumes looking around. 10101 told it back in the resort that the facility was for experiments with various materials, and now that 99111 is here…

…it’s drawing blanks on what to ask.

The place is just corridor after corridor made of that strange istrium material with glass panes and metal doors set in the walls, and shadows behind those.

“Am I just stupid?” it mumbles to itself.

“Of course not!” 99526 shakes its head vigorously.

“Why do you say that?” asks 10101.

“I like- I think I like all this technology stuff but now that I’m surrounded by it I just… I don’t even know what to ask about.”

“To quote one of the giants of our scientific history - finding the right question is often more difficult than finding the answer to it afterwards,” 10101 isn’t disturbed by 99111’s doubts at all, “‘What is that?’ is a good opener, but can only get you so far. My advice is to try to connect what you see to an unresolved problem you know of and work from there. Your friend 10013 seems very proficient at attempting to solve known changeling drone issues by anything new it encounters.”

99111 takes a long breath to think.

“I… umm… could you teach us how to make shinies- the lights? We can see just fine in the dark but we can’t see too far, that’s why exploring new caverns is always so dangerous because there can be something waiting to pounce. If we had sh- lights in the tunnels we could see ahead if something managed to creep in from somewhere.”

Just as 99111 finishes the question and silence returns while 10101 ponders it, they begin hearing swishing noises echo through the tunnel. Smiley’s ears perk up, it scribbles [fren] on its tablet, waves it for the others to see, and bolts ahead.

“Smiley?” 99526 takes a few quicker steps forward before 10101 says:

“That’s okay. Smiley seemed to be interested in the automatic cleaners during their first encounter. It’s in no danger. As for your question, 99111,” the robot looks at the drone, “The problem is not the technology itself. I could explain to you how to build the downgraded, historical variants on the level of current griffon designs. The problem is that it wouldn’t be of any use to you without detailing numerous other research paths that lead to it, and based on how many principles I was able to explain to you in a way you could effectively use them, we would need weeks or months of cooperation to make even the most basic electronics work.”

“So am I just too dumb to understand like I said?” asks 99111 with a sigh.

“The knowledge you seek is the distillation of centuries of research of hundreds of the brightest minds of their time. There used to be a saying that we are standing on the shoulders of giants, but a more accurate metaphor is that we are standing atop a pyramid with thousands propping us,” 10101 notices it’s losing the drones, “To put it simply, even with your changeling memorization skills, it would only drop the progressive learning requirement from centuries to weeks at minimum for the most basic understanding. Besides, so far I’ve learned that you don’t have access to all your memory at all times, meaning you don’t always know all you really know.”

“Uhhh…”

“You are not stupid. You are impatient,” 10101 finishes the line of thought, “I will try to think of a biochemical research path which would allow you to create lasting lights with your resin, but to that I will still need access to the physical link to the facility’s AI- to myself.”

“How does that work?” asks 99526 while 99111 seems busy parsing 10101’s reply.

“Consider me a drone without access to the hive mind knowledge, or with just a very slow access to the stored information.”

“Ohhhh!” 99526 nods, “Yup, got it in one.”

Before their conversation can continue, 99111 and 99526 spot Smiley weirdly shuffling backwards towards them, illuminated by the light from 10101’s horn. The peculiar motion gets explained momentarily when they notice the Silent is piling up the everpresent layer of dust with its forelegs into, well, small piles in front of a thick disc rolling forward on small wheels.

The swishing disc rolls over the pile, somehow, at least to the eyes of the two drones, absorbing it. Smiley beams and clops its forelegs together several times before shuffling back and making another dust pile.

“Is that one of those ‘automatic cleaners’ you mentioned?” asks 99526, slowing down.

“Yes,” responds 10101, walking forward without pause, “As I said, they aren’t dangerous in any way. Normally, there are three of them to cover the entire tunnel in one run but it seems that there’s more mess all over the facility so they split up.”

“Are those machines like you? Did you build those?” 99111’s eyes brighten when it notices the ‘angular and modular’ structure of a chassis rather than of something grown naturally.

“Those are simple machines, yes, although they don’t have the capacity to slot even a limited intelligence like my current one does,” 10101 passes Smiley proudly feeding a fresh pile to the cleaner and patting it afterwards, which makes the cleaner stop and beep due to an unexpected obstacle above.

Realizing it’s probably responsible for the stoppage, Smiley lowers its head towards the ground in front of the machine and boops it with its nose.

*Click!*

*Psst!*

Smiley pushes itself backwards as a gust of some sharp, menthol-smelling aerosol sprays its nose. With the obstacle gone, the cleaner resumes moving forward as Smiley shuffles towards the wall, frowning at the disc. It scribbles on its tablet and shows it to everyone:

[mad?]

“No. Please, keep going,” explains 10101, gesturing to the drones to follow, “These cleaning units are designed to work in areas where there might be household animals. To avoid any accidents caused by surprise or other means they have a small, pressurized tank inside which they can use if the obstacle in front seems alive and not an object. It wasn’t angry at you, you were just preventing it from doing its job.”

[worky time]

“Exactly,” 99526 nods, “Delaying someone’s worky time is bad luck.”

“You can build living machines…” 99111 breathes out in awe, completely disregarding that one such machine has been with them for several days already.

10101 doesn’t respond. Eventually, they open the door to the already lit large bay where 10101 was found originally, and the robot makes its way towards a large panel on the wall with several thick cables protruding from it. Its chest panel opens and the small, manipulating limb in there grabs three cables one by one and plugs them into holes in 10101’s chest. The robot’s eyes and horn go dim.

“Whether or not an AI is truly alive has been a matter of discussion for centuries, 99111,” says a different, synthesized voice seemingly coming from the walls, “I believe the answer is yes, or more accurately - the answer can be yes, if the intelligence is granted a certain degree of autonomy.”

“10101, is that you? That doesn’t sound like you,” 99111 looks nervously around.

“10101 was a small part of me,” says the voice, “Right now I’m synchronizing its findings about you and the current state of affairs with my knowledge base. While we were accessing the main section of the facility to get the Wavelength Reforger, I reestablished some basic connection to the systems. Unfortunately, we don’t have a working screen around so this video quality will have to suffice.”

The lights in the room go dark and 10101’s horn flares to life, beginning to project footage of a makeshift, cliffside, jungle encampment with griffons moving around onto the nearest wall while the AI narrates:

“It seems that we were seen entering the facility via the main entrance hidden under the natives’ altar. The griffons brought some kind of a massive hydraulic drill and other power tools and were able to force their way through the main blast door. Istrium is durable but far from indestructible, and its main strength lies in innate energy absorption rather than internal structure. So far, the griffons were ineffectively trying to enter the facility by destroying the monolithic protective sarcophagus, but uncovering the entrance revealed seams into which they were able to insert their tools.”

“What does that have to do with the rumblings?” asks 99111.

“In case of an unresolved, successful security breach, there is one final protective measure. As I said, this facility specializes in material research and is powered by volcanic streams deep underground. There are resonance machines on the bottom of the facility which can stimulate magmatic flow to test heat and pressure resistance of materials. The final measure can cause the volcano to erupt and to sink the entire island within a matter of two to four days based on the tectonic cycle. My assessment leads me to believe that I need your help once more.”

“What can we do? We can’t just ask the griffons to leave,” says 99111, watching the griffon encampment from a point of view seemingly in the canopy of a nearby tree.

“There are other measures to erase the existence of the facility with the exception of a black box. If we’re not too late I can alter the self-destruct sequence in such a way that it would only erase the facility without forcing the volcanic eruption, or at worst only collapse a hillside or two. However, that requires physical intervention,” the AI switches the projected scene to several smaller pictures of the inside of the facility where a griffon gets a foreleg disintegrated by a red beam of light shot out of a horn of a mechanical pony of similar build as 10101 but larger and more sleek before another griffon pulls the wounded behind a corner, “Unfortunately, under the current protocol settings, the self-contained defensive measures have been activated by the intrusion and they won’t distinguish between griffons, changelings, or even a worker unit operating outside of its boundaries. I understand this isn’t entirely your fight, but if you help and we succeed, we will save the majority of the lives on the island. If you don’t help then the island sinks and turns into a volcanic heap and everyone on it rolls a dice if there will be enough space on the rescue ships. No matter what, it will be extremely dangerous for you.”

“And for you?” asks 99111.

“The facility and I are one. Whatever happens, I will stay here.”

99111 looks at Smiley and 99526, both watching the video projected on the wall.

“We gotta ask 10013.”

“I will send the radio transmission,” says the AI, “It will have to be vague in case someone else is in the room.”

“Then let me out of here,” 99111 looks at the ceiling, “I will tell 10013 the details. Plus, if 99526 stays here then I should be able to go back to the resort and into the reach of our hive links to save some time. Not sure about Smiley, though.”

“I will recall one cleaner unit to this area,” responds the AI.

Smiley looks towards the door, ears perking up.

***

“The facility is in danger. We must stop the tremors or the island will be destroyed. The technological one is returning with details,” 20100 relays the radio message through 99380 to 10013 and by proxy to 99 and 387, “This keeps repeating over and over.”

“Vague but urgent,” comments 387.

“I’m pretty sure the machine is behind the phrasing,” says 99, “So it likely thinks there’s a way it can be overheard.”

“Is 99111 coming back?” muses 10013 before gasping, “I know what we gotta do! Buuut I might need your help.”

“Hmm?” asks 99, finishing off her own smoothie.

“We’ll need to talk to 10101 directly in a way we can’t accidentally say the wrong thing. Thanks to 99380, I think we might be able to link up all the way to 10101’s place. But if it’s something really serious, we’ll have to contact you too, or maybe even the Queen. Can one of you come to the resort’s edge?”

The hive mind map gets updated by 99 with three marks, one near the edge of the resort, one roughly by the promenade, and one inside the changeling water bungalow.

“I’ll go,” she says, “387?”

“Sure. I admit that this threat of annihilation is making me curious,” the warrior stands up and stretches.

“Thanks,” 10013 nods and stands up too, “I’ll tell the others where to stand.”

***

“99526, calling 99526! This is 10013. Can you hear me?”

“You’re coming in pretty quiet but clear!” replies 99526, “I’m relaying this to 10101… or the ey-ai thingy’s voice.”

With the link successfully created and the drones’ locations known to everyone within the link, they can focus their ‘transmission’ for a slight boost in reach and cover the desired distance. All that’s needed is that nothing happens to the drones along the way to the mountain terrace.

“Your Majesty, can you hear me?” 10013 performs the check the other way.

“Yes yes, get on with it!” replies Chrysalis.

As 99526 sits with its back propped against the wall of 10101’s room, the AI briefly explains the situation with the successful griffon incursion.

“-and in light of that I am asking for your help in either deactivating the self-destruct sequence entirely or managing the process in a way which would only destroy this facility.”

“No,” says Chrysalis through the mouth of 99526 almost immediately, earning herself a set of surprised replies.

“Your Majesty?” asks 99.

“But everyone might die!” says 10013.

However, an expected reaction from 387 is missing, although she can sense the warrior being linked up, waiting.

“If you fuck around with the griffon military, YOU will die,” says Chrysalis through 99526 slowly but with heavy emphasis on every word, “These are not random animals and these are not some superstitious natives. I recognized a jacket of one of the griffons from the recording and he was a Black Ops member. Those griffons will be well-trained killers you will not reason with, nor will they care about you being ‘nice’ or ‘trying to help’. They will take whatever they can from the laboratory before they let the island and its inhabitants burn, and if ‘whatever they can’ includes dead or wounded changelings for experiments that would have them beg for death then so be it.”

“But the island griffons and ponies-” 10013 tries again.

“Can go screw themselves in a pool of lava! You know how griffons see us, right? Bugs, predators, devourers of their young. The only reason I, 99, and 387 are even able to walk around is because the damn Paladins stepped in and offered a mostly harmless alternative and, may I remind you, Ten HAAAAAAATES ME. 99, 387, support me on this.”

“From a logical standpoint, I think you’re right, Your Majesty,” says 99, “The voyage from Equestria takes three days, so the cruise ship must be on the way here already and should arrive tomorrow. We should be able to get away safely no matter what. As far as I know there’s an Imperial port much closer. We don’t have to risk drones’ lives for this island, in my opinion, because most inhabitants should be able to get out anyway. However, in case of the short estimate of the collapse, it will be rough.”

“And what about the natives?” asks the AI.

“You mean the fake hippies?” 387 finally joins in, “I would have been on their side if they just lived their peaceful lives even after the drones scared them off twice in one night, but who do you think must have called the military and told them about the entrance to the laboratory? Even their holes-damned shaman only pretended to not speak common. Let them burn,” he finishes dismissively.

“Mind if I ask 10013 what would it want to do?” asks the AI.

“It will do what we tell it to do,” says Chrysalis sternly.

“I know, but I want to know what it wants to do. 10013?”

“I know you keep saying that griffons are mean and bad,” says 10013 when no one says anything for a while, “and SOME are! Definitely. Buuut aside from the GIL guys they kinda always grew to like us in the end. If… if the island collapses and some don’t make it, it will be like our lives - tunnels collapsing on us, drowning, choking. It’s not as bad as when gribblers catch us but it happens. Umm, that’s all. I want to help but if the high ranks say no then it’s a no, especially if 99 is right and it might not be necessary.”

“Understood,” the AI doesn’t change its matter-of-fact tone, “In that case, I have a proposal for you. I will give you a copy of all material research related to changeling resin in return for your help. While it doesn’t account for specialities of random genetic variations, it contains the general resin’s reactions with hundreds of material combinations. There are combinations of massively increased longevity, hardness, resistance to natural processes, and more effects than I have the time to recount because 99526 seems exhausted by our communication. 99111 told me that drones recharge support structures of tunnels on average every two days. I offer you a combination of common minerals and general resin which lasts in standard condition for three weeks. I will also compile substitutions, similar materials, and general geological stratas where they can be mined. And that is only one of the hundreds of combinations. How does that sound?”

“Your Majesty?” asks 10013 as the ensuing silence lengthens.

“We could severely lower our love drain,” comments 99, “If it’s true, of course.”

“That’s… not good enough,” says Chrysalis slowly, “Our love situation is improving on its own due to our reintroduction to the Equestrian population. If I’m to risk the VETERAN drones, the drones whose experience is what’s keeping the newly hatched alive, then I need some kind of knowledge that would help the survivors defend themselves from anything the depths can throw at them. I can’t waste the time and energy of warriors and infiltrators on patrolling every hole we once dug to get a small seam of emeralds to finance an infiltration or two. I want offensive research - explosions, acids, anything they’ll be able to make on their own. It’s not as if they could use it against us anyway.”

“I’m already offering too much. Don’t forget the structural engineering tips I’ve been sharing with them since-”

“Don’t try to bullshit me, machine,” Chrysalis interrupts the AI, “That was a reward for hiding your unfinished artefact. If you gave more than you intended originally that’s on you showing your cards too early. This is an entirely new deal, take it or leave it. No matter what the little weirdos told you about me, I care about my hive, at least comparatively a lot more than about any other creature on this piece of rock.”

No one says anything for close to a minute before the AI says:

“I will compile a very selective set of research notes regarding the volatility and corrosive attributes of changeling resin mixed with various natural elements. On top of that, I will provide you with a disc and a reader. Its battery should sustain roughly three years of frequent use, so it will be on you to transcribe the content into a form suitable for you. I only ask you to destroy the device entirely after you’re finished. Are the terms acceptable now?”

“Yes, you have a deal,” says Chrysalis, “I officially allow the drones to help you with the operation. Send me that knowledge device over 99526 with instructions on how to use it. I will skim through it to see if you’re not trying to cheat me.”

“I will send 99526 back with a long-range communicator as well as the data storage and we will figure out a plan together. No matter what, it will require the cover of darkness. The communicator is significantly better than this form of talking, but releasing any form of technology outside the laboratory is strictly forbidden so I had to be sure about our deal first.”

“Understandable. Are we done?” asks Chrysalis.

“Yes. Thank you for your cooperation,” says the AI.

Chrysalis remains connected only to 99, 387, and 10013 and laughs into their links.

“See? This was a lesson on how you put an actual reward on the table,” Chrysalis smirks, “You can thank me in person later. Good job with organizing the link, 10013.”

The point table updates.

[10013:3, 20100:9, 36658:4, 99111:4, 99380:6, 99526:3, Smiley:6, 65536:3]

“You were willing to sacrifice everyone on the island just to get more out of the deal?” asks 387.

“You wanted to burn the natives for revenge,” Chrysalis huffs, “I wanted to do it for fun and profit. That’s why I’m the Queen and you the… manager of the lower tunnels.”

“Why do you make it so hard to like you, Chrysalis?” 387 sighs.

“Nothing worthwhile is ever easy, 387. You should know that.”

387 facehoofs and disconnects.

Author's Note

I think there will be one more short chapter to end the day, just to polish off some things. If there's some thread you feel I forgot feel free to point it out, because after the next chapter...
...we ball!
(the only really good action sequence I ever wrote was Bound Tome's chapter of Corrupted Lands, so I wouldn't get my hopes up about drones going full Far Cry: Blood Dragon style.)

Day 10 - Just another busy day: 6/7

Aside from the necessary feeding, 387 hasn’t felt the desire to interact with pretty much anyone since they had the suppressors put on. It seemed like a forced nuisance when anyone could see at a first glance that he was one of the “bad changelings”. On the other hole, in the long run he was better fed than in ages, the drones were seemingly mostly immune to the negative effects of changeling reputation, and he could practice his flutterpony tricks in peace. It was like slipping into old shoes - they were full of holes, one sole was peeling off, and they didn’t fit right anymore, but somehow they were still comfortable, maybe more than his current set.

Yes, ponies can wear both shoes and horseshoes, albeit usually not at the same time. Don’t be a stickler.

The only changeling warrior on the Ataraki island pauses his mental exercise as he senses 10013 approaching and, from its brief moment of joy and relief, it’s clear that the drone is headed for him instead of just passing by.

“387, can you help me?”

“Hmm?” he opens his eyes. When the drone doesn’t take it as an answer, he adds: “What do you need?”

10013 looks around in case of anyone listening in, and says:

“Everyone agreed to go. We’ve been planning on how to take things, and 10101 had some ideas but I’d like to hear your opinion on how we should approach the whole thing.”

“Hmmm,” 387 rubs his chin as 10013 sits down in front of him, “Shouldn’t you be the one coming up with a plan, mister leader?”

“You said my role was to find the best changeling for each job, so here I am,” 10013 tilts its head which makes 387 smirk.

“Okay okay, I can’t say I wasn’t thinking about it, but without even knowing the details of the area-”

A flow of information and pictures through his hive link makes 387 reconsider immediately.

“10101 showed us a complete map of the underground,” says 10013, “The place is much bigger than what we saw during our first visit. Its idea is to split into two teams, one which would cause a distraction by the jungle entrance to draw the griffons back and one that would tunnel through the cave-ins separating the area where 10101 was from the main facility.”

387 examines the three-dimensional model of the facility looking like an inverted pyramid.

“Sounds good, but why not go as a group from the inside in the first place and avoid the griffons entirely?”

“10101 says the griffons got reinforcements and that there are too many of them. They’re progressing quickly because there aren’t enough still active security machines to push them back, and the deeper they get the higher the chance the inside team will run either into active robots or the griffons. By the time it gets dark, who knows how deep they’ll be?”

“I see,” 387 ponders a potential approach while examining the mental images of the griffon encampment provided by the hidden camera, “Professionals or not, it looks like they don’t think there’s anyone who would attack them from the outside. Admittedly, that’s understandable. So the idea is to cause havoc in the camp, wait until the forces inside withdraw to defend it, and the security robots pursue them?”

“Yup. We’re kinda short on details, though, which is why I’m here.”

“I’m thinking about it but, no matter what, you guys MUST be full of love for this. I’d like to hear your idea first, though, if you have one,” 387 relaxes again, eyes closed and hind legs crossed. With its newfound mobility, 10013 imitates him and to the outside soon there are only two changelings silently meditating on the lawn.

“I thought that I, 36658, and 20100 would distract the griffons and the rest would escort 10101 around the facility. The inside group should have it easier despite the angry robots, and we veterans are more experienced with fleeing in new situations. Smiley would stay here because if it panics we might not be able to calm it down.”

“It’s a basic take, but I see several flaws in it,” 387’s mind works through potential scenarios with variables being griffon weaponry, various encounter ranges based on the map, potential cover, and many more, “One, I think the less experienced squad should remain outside. It will be much easier to run if things go crotchtits up, not to mention that 99111 might try to examine something mechanical on the inside and waste your time. On top of that, the distraction might have to take the form of a forest fire, and 99526’s mass production of goop will be perfect for it.”

“Wouldn’t burning the jungle cause trouble?”

“Forest fires happen all the time, and jungles are generally wet enough to avoid the fire covering the whole island. On top of that, forest fires are actually good for the vegetation in the long run, especially in comparison to magma,” 387 says dismissively, “I’m assuming the outside group will have 10101’s communicator with them, right?”

“Yup, 10101 will be able to talk to them at any point.”

“Good. Now, the inside group might have to fight and deal with unexpected obstacles. 36658 is surprisingly decent at scrapping, even though it’s untrained. Taking 65536 would be best by far, but if something happened to it I’m pretty sure we would be begging to be swallowed by molten magma once Luna found out. On top of that, if I believe someone to not panic it’s 36658, and just its proximity might help you and 20100 remain calm in case of trouble. However…” 387 pauses.

“Hmm?” 10013 senses that 387 is fighting himself about something.

“I think you should take Smiley with you after all. Silents are made to obey direct, simple, clear orders and, as much as I hate to say it, you might need a body to throw in the way of something you can’t deal with. I’d take a veteran drone over a Silent any day, even in Smiley’s case.”

“387?!” 10013 gasps out loud and opens its eyes.

“You asked. Do with that information what you will,” 387 sighs, not wanting to sound heartless, “Look, I made sacrifices you can’t imagine, 10013. I had to let friends I’ve known for centuries die to save others, and it always rips out a part of your soul. But you know what? Seeing you and the other drones here and LIVING, not just briefly existing before something eats you in the tunnels, is the only way to regain at least the tiniest pieces of myself. It’s the hope that all the sacrifices were worth something. Maybe it was enough, and maybe not, but I’m the one who has to live with those choices. I would never want you to have to make a choice like that, but you live a dangerous life, little drone, and a leader has to make decisions.”

“9999 made its,” adds the voice.

10013 takes a deep breath, walks over to 387, sits down into his lap, and gives the warrior a hug.

***

The resort yacht commandeered in the name of the Paladins finally docks at the pier of the resort again, and somewhat disgruntled Gem splits off from Ten and Bright Star.

“...politics… can’t do anything… bite them all and have them jump into the sea…” she grumbles as she walks to the promenade and then along the beach towards her bungalow.

Nothing major seems to have happened during her absence, which calms her down a little during her brief walk, and she soon enters her temporary wooden home.

“Welcome back, Miss Gem!” the chipper voice of 65536 immediately greets her, “Where have you been? Miss Zeri said you sailed off on the yacht.”

Gem can’t answer immediately, having to process the scene playing out in front of her. 65536 is being 65536, nothing strange there. However, the image of Blueblood cleaning the floor doesn’t fit with her idea of the world and requires squaring up.

“What’s going on here?” she nods towards Blueblood.

“Private BB was looking for something to do and I suggested we could clean up here as a thank you for taking care of us here in this strange place,” 65536 answers with a smile while Gem raises an eyebrow at the ex-Prince.

“Broadly correct,” Blueblood refuses to elaborate, resuming washing the floor with a rag wrapped around the hooves of his forelegs.

“We’re almost done!” 65536 keeps going as if this wasn’t the weirdest thing that’s happened so far, “We didn’t know when you’d be coming back but I guess we got lucky. When we’re finished, we’ll take a good, long swim followed by a run around the resort. You wanna join us?”

“Uhhh,” Gem is still unsuccessfully processing, “Maybe? At least with the swimming part, I’m not much of a runner. Blueblood, to what do I owe this newfound interest in… existing?”

Blueblood wrings the rag into a bucket of water dirty with a mix of alchemical residues and general grime before answering in a completely casual tone with a nod towards still beaming 65536:

“I’m pretty sure that if I got the sweet release of death without this guy’s permission, it would somehow call upon all other dead drones it keeps telling me horrifying stories about and ask them to hound me for all eternity.”

Gem puts the response into a mental “parse in detail later” box, and pats 65536’s head:

“Huh, a drone necromancer would be something to see.”

“Don’t even start or it will happen,” Blueblood rolls his eyes.

“How does one romance necks?” asks 65536.

“See what you’ve done? I’m not explaining ponesutra to it,” Blueblood resumes wiping the floor.

“65536, when two ponies love each other in a non-friend way and perform some deed to show it, that’s called romance.”

“Uh huh, I knew that but how does that involve necks specifically?” asks 65536 with the precision of a probing scalpel.

“That means you can romance somepony’s neck by kissing it, for example.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” 65536 nods before tilting its head, “And if you want that, I think you can just ask any drone. I don’t see a reason why you would need a drone with a specific talent.”

Behind it, Blueblood facehoofs and Gem gives him a smug smile.

“I’m glad you’re feeling a little better, Blueblood,” the smug smile turns into a warm one, “I don’t doubt Princess Celestia will be as well.”

The mention hits Blueblood like a hammer and his breathing quickens. When he gathers himself, he shakes his head.

“I… I’m not ready to face her. I don’t know I’ll ever be.”

Gem finds herself at loss for words, because anything she could say would be a generalized, empty platitude. However, there’s always a way to pierce any armor and often that way is one of consistency and patience. Something 65536 seems to have understood immediately.

“So how about going for that swim, guys?” she asks.

***

“Hi again, Miss sporty!” 99380 waves at the griffoness whom it spots on the way back to the sports area. Clearly, she’s spent longer than usual there today as she’s completely drenched with sweat, her white clothes balled in a net bag on her back. She blinks, adjusts the shade on her forehead, looks at it, wipes her face, and smiles.

“Hey there, little guy.”

“Sorry for having to run off,” 99380 catches up with her, “Important hive stuff. Whatcha doing?”

“Trying not to pass out,” she chuckles, “I’ve been outside in this heat for too long and too close to noon. That’s not healthy. I don’t know how you handle it, being all black.”

“I’ve been in the shade, mostly. Try that!” 99380 offers some helpful advice.

She shoots the drone a sharp look which is met only with open honesty and genuine desire to help. The drone isn’t insulting her nor being sarcastic, so she replies:

“I’m about to do that. There’s a staff laundromat nearby that should be pretty empty at this time of day so I’ll have time to cool down while I wait until my clothes are clean.”

“Lawn-drone-mat? What’s that? Can I come?” asks 99380, “I don’t have anything to do until the evening.”

“Sure,” she shrugs, “But it’s no.. activity or anything, it’s just for washing your clothes. Do you guys even wear clothes?”

“Nu uh, we don’t get those at home,” 99380 shakes its head, “Those are for when you’re cold, right?” it pauses, realizing something, “Wait, you just said you were super hot. Why wear clothes?”

“Ohhhh, that’s…” she realizes she doesn’t know where to start. Fashion? Utility? “Well, some clothes actually make it so that you’re less hot. White clothes specifically, but they need to let in enough air so that you don’t just bake in them too,” she shakes her net bag, “On top of that, guys sometimes stare where they shouldn’t when you’re wearing nothing…” she lets the sentence hang in the air.

“Oh,” 99380 tilts its head, walking by her side, “Did I look where I shouldn’t? I’m sorry if I did. We don’t have anything like that, or at least I think we don’t. Where shouldn’t I look?”

“N-No, you’re doing alright,” she pats the drone’s head to distract it so that she doesn’t have to explain modesty to a changeling.

“Yay,” satisfied 99380 doesn’t press the issue.

The griffoness leads the way into a one-story building nearby and then into its cellar which is only barely colder than the outside, but much wetter. One side of the cellar is lined with what looks to 99380 as six huge box machines with a round window in the front and something spinning in almost all of them.

The drone hops onto a bench in the middle of the tiled room and observes the griffoness putting her clothes into an empty washing machine and turning it on. When the insides start spinning too, 99380 trots over and presses its nose against the glass.

“Whoom whoom whoom,” the drone mumbles to itself, its head slowly making circles.

“Little guy?”

“Hmm?” it tears its eyes away from the spinning clothes.

“Could you stay here and keep an eye on my laundry for a few minutes while I grab something cold to drink?” asks the griffoness, “Nothing should go wrong, but the washing machines can get stuck and sometimes someone steals laundry… especially female underwear.”

“Sure,” 99380 nods, “But what do I do if, uhh, stuff happens?”

“If the washing machine starts bouncing more than the others, just push the power button,” she taps a large round button on top, “And I doubt anyone would try to steal anything with you around.”

“Alrighty!” 99380 resumes watching the almost hypnotic motion of the spinning drum of the washing machine.

Spinny and spinny and spinny and spinny!

Wheeeee!

***

With the negotiations over, 20100 returns to its work on the gift for 10013. After ruining two plastic sheets, one with fiery results, the recognizable shape of 9999 is pressed into the once again hard mold.

20100 runs the claws of its right foreleg over the raised shape, and smiles before transforming those back into a hoof with a hole to set its smallest paint brush into.

Still a lot of work to do.

Time flies as it loses itself in painting by the glass door to the balcony fully open. Eventually, however, its nostrils crinkle on their own as it starts smelling smoke. It puts the brush down and looks around.

Did I accidentally leave goop somewhere while heating up the plastic sheets?

After a quick run through the suit, 20100 figures out that the scent must be coming from the outside, and steps out onto the balcony to see if anyone needs help. Granted, there’s a limit to what 20100 could do, but 10013 has fire dousing goop, so calling the right drone for the job would be enough.

It spots nothing, but the smell grows more noticeable now that 20100 is focused again, so it hides the easel with the sheet, closes the balcony door, and flies into the air. No one it can see seems to be worried, so it continues searching mostly to satisfy its own curiosity. It takes only a minute of floating above the resort to spot a seafood grill tent one level below the servant apartments operated by an older griffon chick and surrounded by plastic chairs and tables laid out into the street and on the lawn. There’s a very young, excited hippogriff running around, bringing the griffoness’ food to the guests, and something about the whole scene triggers a smile from 20100. After watching the seated guests eat for a moment, 20100 sniffs the air again and lands by the grill.

“Can I sit down?” it asks the griffoness inside the wall-less tent.

She measures it with a frown.

“Wooow!” the hippogriff kid rushes over, examining 20100 from all sides, “Hiii!”

“Hello! I’m 20100.”

“Woooow, that’s so old! I’m 9.”

“Woooow!” 20100’s eyes go wide, “That’s so high rank!”

“Uhh, rank?”

The two exchange brief, confused looks before 20100 facehoofs.

“My bad, I get it now. 20100 is our version of a name.”

“Ooooh, my name is Featherhoof! Are you a changeling? I read stories about you! Uhh,” the kid’s excitement fades a little and it backs off as 20100 smiles, showing the two small fangs in its mouth, “Bad stories, mostly…”

20100 waves its hoof dismissively.

“I keep hearing that from everyone around here,” it says, “But that’s gotta be about the high ranks- I mean our high ranks. I’m a drone, we just carry stuff around and dig tunnels. Oh, and I paint! I want to draw moving pictures the most, but paper is hard to come by back home so I make something that lasts instead.”

“Mooom!” the kid smiles after processing the message and concluding that if a changeling likes normal stuff and its of a similar size they can’t be all that bad, “Can we go dig a hole?”

“NO! No holes in the lawn!” the griffoness first frowns at 20100 and then points at a nearby chair with a pout, “Changeling, you can sit there until a paying guest wants the spot.”

“Oh I can pay!” 20100 pulls out a gold coin out of a leg hole and puts it on the counter.

“Do you even eat real food?” she narrows her eyes in suspicion.

“Umm, do you have anything to drink? Anything is okay,” 20100 locates a menu hanging by the counter, “I was just looking around anyway in case there was a fire that needed putting out,” it chuckles, “But then all this burning meat reminded me of a friend who liked to cook.”

The griffoness takes the gold coin and points to the empty chair again.

“Sit down, my son will bring you your order in a minute.”

The little hippogriff runs off behind the counter and pulls out a plastic cup from a stack in the back as 20100 hops into the presented chair, looks up at the sky, and sniffs the air rich with the smell of spices and cooking.

I wonder if 17070 is still alive.

Author's Note

I haven't been in a good head space recently. Too much uncertainty at work, and my overall depressive episode of why do anything, nothing matters anyway, there's no light at the end of the tunnel, and so on. The usual song and dance. So while I intended to finish off the day in this chapter, I just couldn't and you get this.
I'm trying to get back to it, but all just feels like going through a checklist instead of writing something that pushes the story forward.

Day 10 - Just another busy day: 7/7

“Miss sporty” returns to the laundry room, only to find 99380 rolling on the floor while leaving marks of red dust all over it, and making “whoom whoom!” sounds with its mouth.

“Wha-?” she freezes, unsure whether to laugh or call for help, “Little guy?”

With a twitch, 99380 stops, sits up, and beams at the griffoness as if nothing weird ever happened.

“Welcome back, Miss sporty!”

“What were you doing just now?” she asks slowly, “Aside from leaving red stains all over the place.”

“I was watching the laundry like you said, and it went round and round… and it looked fun so I tried to do it too. Anyway, I’m glad to report that no one tried to steal anything and I didn’t need to push the button!” 99380 salutes before furrowing its brows and examining its hoof, “Is that how 65536 does it? Something felt off…”

The griffoness shakes her head before offering 99380 a large, plastic cup.

“This is for you. I’m not sure how it is with changelings, but for us it’s crucial to remain hydrated after running around in the sun for as long as we did,” she says when 99380 sniffs the cup, “It’s just cold lemonade. I like to get something sweet for myself after exercising,” and adds while tapping on a sports bottle hanging on a strap around her neck, “I’ve got mine here.”

99380 doesn’t need any more encouragement to take several gulps and immediately regret it as the brain freeze hits.

“Head hurties! Head hurties!” it hisses, putting the cup down.

“You’re drinking it too quickly,” the griffoness sits down on the bench, carefully stepping over the red dust on the floor, “Are all the changelings weird like you? I think I saw one of you explode over and over recently too.”

“That must have been 99526,” 99380 nods, rubbing its head, “I’m kinda the slower one of our group. 10013 said it was because I could do hive mind stuff on the inside better than the others but at the cost of not being that good with stuff outside of my head, and it was right!” the drone beams, the perceived lack of intelligence not bothering it in the slightest.

“You don’t mind being called slow in the head?” the griffoness shoots it a surprised look.

“Hmm?” 99380 blinks at her several times while quietly processing, “No? Why would I? 10013 was right and it helped me figure out what I was good at. Besides, down in the tunnels back home you can’t always be thinking, you’ve got stuff to do. And when there are a bunch of spiky biters chasing you, thinking only gets in the way. You have a long tunnel ahead of you, baddies behind you, any drone would take speed over thinking.”

“Oh…” the griffoness pauses, “So it’s not an insult? For us, being called stupid is always an insult.”

“I guess it’s different on the surface,“ 99380 shrugs, “Nothing keeps trying to eat you all the time so maybe you have time to think, but with us it’s… not that important, I guess? Someone is faster, someone is stronger, someone is smarter, that’s just how things are. For example, 10013 is very smart and that’s why it’s the leader here. Plus, it got its rank during the bad times when high ranks ate us for fun which means it went through much more than most others and had to be smart because running away or fighting wouldn’t work.”

“Ate you…?” the griffoness stops drinking and just listens in fascination.

“Yup, the veterans said things changed a lot after the hive tried to take over some big pony city and failed. It’s a long story, but things were supposedly really bad before that, and there are only a couple of drones who lived at the time,” 99380 scratches its head, “Huh, 57999 and 47989 are back home but all the others are here. Anyway, as I said 10013 is the smart one. 36658 is pretty strong. I mean, not as strong as 65536 but it’s got pony guard training so that’s different.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, a changeling is working with pony guards?”

“Mhm! It’s a long story too-”

With 99380 recounting what it knows about the stories of the others with audible respect for the horrors the old drones went through, the laundry hour just flies by.

***

36658 returns to the workshop after the negotiations. With the point lead returning to the “fanatic” side, the work it was forcing itself to do for Trixie before doesn’t feel that relevant, but running off without explanation other than “hive issues” is still gnawing on 36658’s mind.

“I’m back, Miss Trixie,” 36658 approaches the blue unicorn relentlessly working on what looks like three chemistry projects at the same time, “Sorry for running off like that.”

“It’s f-” Trixie nods without even looking at the drone, fiddles with something that 36658 doesn’t understand, and a small puff of black smoke suddenly bursts out of a vial on a burner that she’s not concentrating on, “-uuuuck!” she immediately levitates the vial up and begins examining it.

The explosiveness of the situation makes something click in 36658’s head, and it speaks up again:

“Miss Trixie, did you get in any trouble after the ship sank? You know, with everyone thinking we blew it up and you actually having all these boom bottles and fire makers?”

“Of course both the Paladins and those Quest Security idiots questioned me,” Trixie rolls her eyes and empties the vial into a metal bucket by her trio of workbenches, “It took me nearly two hours to explain to them the difference between thermobaric explosives and Celestia-damned fireworks,” she looks at 36658 seemingly waiting for her to continue, “I’m not doing that again.”

36658 wibbles. Its heart isn’t in it, but the basic effect is there.

“Fireworks are bright but don’t explode with enough pressure or heat to rip open the reinforced hull of an ex-military cruise ship. Neither do the mines I secured my cabin with. Both can rip a fetlock off, but that’s about it. Besides, all the stuff I’m using to make the real fireworks for the show tomorrow is what you changelings helped me carry all the way from the port back here. I sure as hay wasn’t hiding it inside my ass while on a lifeboat. Now, please please please leave and let me work. That little… chemical miscalculation cost me two hours of time and I’m going to need some sleep today to lower my chances of blowing myself up during the show,” Trixie is completely focused on messing with the chemistry equipment, “No, I don’t need an assistant anymore,” she adds after not hearing any hoofsteps.

“Understood, Miss Trixie,” 36658 nods, “I’m looking forward to your show of shinies.”

“Mmmmhm.”

“Oh!” an idea comes to 36658’s mind, “Do you know where I could get some quartz dust?”

“White, hard rock in the storage. Belt grinder it in the corner,” mutters Trixie.

“Thank you!”

Finding samples of quartz is fairly easy and after getting increasingly annoyed “Yes!” from Trixie upon asking her if it found the right rock, 36658 sits down by the machine in the corner, turns it on, and starts experimenting.

***

“Good to see you again, sharpshooter!” the griffon overseeing the shooting range calls out as 99380 enters, “And you brought a friend?” he adds with a sudden smirk.

The range is empty and quiet this late in the afternoon, as most resort guests seem to prefer spending evenings by doing more social activities. Even the griffon instructor is busy taking stock of the inventory rather than practicing.

“Hiii!” 99380 waves back, entirely failing to decipher the griffon’s smug expression, “That’s Miss sporty! We played with balls together, next I guarded her underwear so that no one would steal it, then we took a shower because I was all sticky, and now I wanted to show her the big boomsticks!”

“Hnnnnngh!” the instructor’s eyes bulge and he starts choking on his spit after letting out a barking laugh.

99380 runs over to the large griffon and starts shaking him, succeeding only on pushing itself around.

“Miss sporty, what do I do?” 99380 calls out.

The blushing griffoness unfreezes, runs over with a frown, joins her forelegs into one fist, and smashes the instructor’s back.

“Whuh?” the violent act surprises 99380 who looks up at her. However, the instructor stops choking moments later and, after some wheezing, finally stands up straight.

“Don’t say a word,” says Miss sporty.

“Fiiine,” the instructor chuckles to himself, “But this will make a good story for one evening of playing cards with the boys, and you can’t stop it.”

The griffoness breathes out a defeated sigh.

“Why did you hit him, Miss sporty?” 99380 sits down, its eyes darting between the two griffons. The situation feels okay so the big smack must have been… useful?

“If someone’s choking on something it can help if you hit their back in the right way,” is all she says, “Anyway, we’re here. What did you want to show me?”

“...his boomstick…” mutters the instructor.

“Emperor damn it!” she facetalons.

“Mister shooty is right, though!” excited 99380 jumps back on all fours, “You said you liked games where you had to concentrate and shooting is totally like that,” it darts over to the instructor, “Can I show Miss sporty some boomsticks?”

The instructor looks at the griffoness now examining a small-caliber pistol hanging on a wall rack with a mix of worry and distaste.

“I guess a chick interested in firearms isn’t the weirdest thing I’ve seen around. Sure, no one’s around due to some event on the yacht so feel free to try out anything you want, although the girlie looks like she has even less experience than you do, buggo, so always let me demonstrate first and start off with something small.”

“Yayyy! That way we all can do some shooting,” 99380 waves both forelegs in the air, drawing the looks of both present griffons, and its genuine excited enjoyment thaws Miss sporty’s frown, which emboldens the instructor to walk over, take the pistol she’s been examining as well as a small box of ammo, and lead everyone to a firing lane.

“Alright, sharpshooter. Show her how it’s done!” he loads the pistol and gives it to 99380 who hops onto a stool and aims.

Something feels off, but 99380 can’t put a temporarily grown claw on it.

It pulls the trigger.

Instead of hitting the bullseye, the bullet barely grazes the target.

“Huuuuh?” 99380 looks at the pistol, at the target, and at the pistol again, “What happened? I aimed it just like before.”

“Your form was terrible,” says the instructor openly, “Your foreleg just flew up as if you weren’t keeping the pistol steady at all. You can’t tell me the perfect shooting last time was just beginner’s luck.”

“Oooooh!” 99380’s eyes go wide, “I think I got it! This new carapace design that 10013 and Mister Shiny made makes it much easier to move but I think I can’t handle the big boom so well. Let me try again,” one whoosh of green fire later, 99380 aims again and hits a perfect bullseye, ”Yup, that was it. You try, Miss sporty,” it waves at the griffoness to draw her attention over the mufflers on her head.

She barely hits the target and squints to see how far off she hit. As the instructor leans in to say something, she raises a talon to stop him, aims again with both forelegs, and hits much closer. Afterwards, she takes her ear mufflers off and so do the other two.

“So, what do you think?” 99380 keeps smiling.

“Do you have anything bigger?” she looks at the instructor, “Preferably something shoulder, uh, propped?”

The instructor chuckles at her choice of words but heads off to the back wall.

“I’ve got some proper combat rifles here that aren’t available outside of the military,” he looks around the empty range, “This might be the best time to try those out. Alright,” he winks at 99380, “let’s put some bigger holes into those targets!”

99380 pokes the griffoness.

“Holes? Yesss, let’s make more changelings!”

***

Zemi is the one who drew the short straw for a bodyguard duty for the evening, but it’s not as if she was expecting to do much more than sit near 1313 and Zamira, or in this case to sit on a bench outside the hot tub room. The wooden panelling and red carpet do wonders to muffle any hoofsteps or potential sounds coming out of the hot tub booths, so Zemi feels practically alone in the building, which definitely isn’t the case judging by the red squares above each door in the hallway. However, all these perfect prerequisites for sneaking around manage to do is give one approaching target two steps after rounding a corner before she notices them.

Or more correctly - it.

Smiley’s uncharacteristically scrunched and thoughtful expression brightens up immediately as it notices Zemi, and the Silent trots over, leaving behind a trail of muddy hoofsteps. As Zemi stands up, Smiley sits down on its haunches and raises the tablet on a string around its neck.

[qak!]

“Umm, hello to you too?” Zemi takes a wild guess at what the message is supposed to mean.

Smiley lowers the tablet and turns it towards itself, examining it for a while after its enigmatic plan of approach seems to have failed. Zemi uses the time to knock on the door of the booth, peek inside and, after a brief exchange of words, return to Smiley who is now smiling at her, with a [helo!]

“Hey, you… Smiley, right?” Zemi points at the muddy trail, “I’m not sure what you want and the Baron and Za- Baroness but-”

[banana?]

“1313 and Zamira,” Zemi corrects herself and Smiley stops fiddling with its tablet which the zebra takes as… a good sign, “They’ll talk to you but you must go and clean yourself. Showering isn’t a changeling strong side, is it?”

Smiley tilts its head. Zemi walks past Smiley with a sigh.

“Nevermind, follow me. There are showers by the entrance because they can’t let anyone just come in and muck up the hot tubs, much less ruin the carpet like you did,” she looks back at Smiley probably pondering what she just said, and adds again, “Come!”

For a second Zemi ponders if her commanding tone wasn’t too sharp, but Smiley perks up upon hearing a simple, clear order and immediately takes its place by her side without any sign of complaining.

One uneventful shower later, Zemi knocks on the door of the booth with 1313 and Zamira and lets Smiley inside.

“Is there any trouble?” asks 1313, “Why did you want to see us?”

Smiley rubs its head and writes down:

[qak!]

“What?” 1313 raises an eyebrow and instinctively attempts to skim the surface of Smiley’s mind, earning himself a brief headache.

“Quack?” the corner of Zamira’s mouth curls up, and she bursts into a full grin when Smiley nods and happily waves the tablet with [qak!] again, “Oh get in right now, you little ball of weirdness!” she grabs Smiley’s foreleg and pulls the Silent into the hot tub.

With water up to its chin, Smiley tastes it with a quick lick before a spark of curiosity rises in it and it pulls its tablet above water. The tablet is, obviously, blank. Smiley looks at it, pulls a small piece of goop out of its leg hole, holds the tablet up with one foreleg, and scribbles on it. When it’s done, it hides the piece of goop again, but that requires both forelegs and the tablet flops into the water. When it pulls it out again, it’s blank one more time.

Smiley wibbles. When nothing happens, it lets out a long wheeze before pawing at its mouth.

“At least we can safely say it understands that the tablet is its means of communication just as the mouth is for others,” comments 1313, immediately receiving a bonk on the head from Zamira, “Huh? What did I do?”

“Little guy’s sad, don’t go all analytical now,” she frowns and pulls Smiley towards her, “Come here, Smiley. You don’t need a tablet to get a hug.”

“You manipulative little critter,” 1313 smirks and leans back against the wall of the tub, “New infiltrators could learn from you.”

“Oh shush,” Zamira chuckles and sinks deeper into the water as well with Smiley held against her barrel like a plush toy.

1313 watches his wife cuddle the Silent without saying anything, but the analytical part of his mind is working no matter what. Smiley wasn’t manipulating Zamira, but it deliberately came to them hungry and is now feeding. Definitely not the behavior of a tool anymore.

“You’re smarter than you look, aren’t you?”

*Puzzled face.*

“I’m happy you’re getting better.”

*Happy face!*

***

“99526, are you busy?” Chrysalis’ voice emerges in that particular drone’s head.

The drone who, until now, has been casually strolling around the resort starts trembling. The Queen is asking specifically for it? And after blowing stuff up and getting locked up in GIL?

“Helloooo, is this thing on?” Chrysalis gives it one more shot.

“Meep meep meep meep meep!” 99526 looks around.

“STOP MEEPING AND GET OVER HERE!”

Back in the bungalow, Chrysalis rolls her eyes, puts down a strange, hoof-held device projecting an easily readable page covered in writing into the air above it, and gets up from the sofa.

How to make sure at least some of them return from this craziness? The knowledge the machine provided us is vastly more valuable than all the drones here, but the experienced ones are still a resource I shouldn’t waste, especially 20100. Should I keep that one here?

No. The terms of the deal were clear and who knows if the machine can’t make this technical gadget explode remotely or something.

The problem is that with the exception of 36658, treasonous little drone that it is, none of them are cold enough to focus on what’s important. So… yeah, no need to second-guess myself. This is the only way I can help.

She pulls out two clear bottles she bought earlier out of the freezer and hides the knowledge device. Examining one bottle from all sides, she scoffs.

No, this won’t work. Drones mostly like sweets, and eighty-proof vodka isn’t exactly there despite the sugar content. Hmmm, how about some honey?

“Hey, 99526!”

“Yes, Your Majesty?” the drone almost drops like a rock as Chrysalis’ sharp voice speaks up in its head mid-flight.

“Get a bottle of honey on the way,” she pings a place on the resort map, “This shop. Tell them to mark it up to me personally.”

“On the way, Your Majesty!”

Chrysalis sets the small table on the bungalow’s veranda looking out into the sea, preparing a glass and a small bottle for herself, and the two large bottles for her “guest”.

99526 knocks on the door less than five minutes later with a large bottle of honey held in its forelegs and gasping for breath.

“I… got it… Your Majes… ty! And myself…”

Chrysalis levitates up the honey and walks back inside.

“Follow me,” she says, “and calm down. You’re no use to me if you pass out right now and we’ll need you in top shape for tonight.”

99526 does as instructed and sits down into the woven chair on the veranda shortly after while Chrysalis pours herself a drink and does the same for 99526 but with added honey.

“What is that?” the drone sniffs its glass.

“Something for you to drink,” says Chrysalis, sitting down as well and stretching her hind legs so that she can prop them against the veranda’s railing, “Just don’t absorb it. That wouldn’t end well.”

99526 downs the entire glass before shuddering.

“W-w-w-wow!” it says, “That tastes super weird. Sharp, but the sweet part on the bottom was super nice.”

“Good. It’s a little… potion I devised that might help you later. Speaking of which, do you know that all the others are trying to refill on love before the mission, although maybe not entirely knowingly? You’re the only one who isn’t.”

“Oh shoot!” 99526 downs another glass, “That’s smart! I should go do that t-”

“It would be so much easier for them if they weren’t so caught up in their silly little competition and just came to us for a refill,” she looks into the distance, interrupting the drone, “By the way, that’s the second reason you’re here. You drink what I prepared for you, I refill you, simple as that.”

“Oh? Thank you, Your Majesty!” 99526 has to use both forelegs to safely tip the big bottle over but manages to fill the glass eventually.

“And one more thing,” Chrysalis adds, “Since we’re supposed to be leaving the day after tomorrow and who knows how things will turn out, how about you tell me how you enjoyed being here? We have roughly two hours before the sun sets, so feel free to take your time and finish your bottles. Holes, if I might even let you taste my royal drink too.”

99526 looks at Chrysalis’ green bottle and sniffs towards it. It smells more like goop than its drink - minty mostly with the same sharp undertone.

“Will you be angry if I say I’d like to go home?” 99526 hides behind its bottles.

“I won’t, but explain.”

“I like it here, don’t get me wrong. The creatures are friendly, mostly, and nothing is trying to eat me, but there’s so much stuff to do it’s hard to decide where to go first, and everyone seems to be busy all the time so I never know if I’m bothering someone. There’s no clear worky time when I should let others do their stuff and no breaky time when it’s okay to talk to them.”

“So you think that going here was a bad idea? Answer openly, I won’t bite.”

“No no no no,” 99526 shakes its head vigorously and Chrysalis knows it’s not lying, “I’d like to do this more often but… for a much shorter time? I miss the guys back home and I know they’ll love hearing about everything we did here. Plus my hoofsies are itching for some proper digging.”

“Hmmm, I’ll think about it. Perhaps you could get a full day off to mess around every once in a while. Appleloosa is close to the Badlands, even though it’s a hole with nothing to do,” she taps her hoof on her chair, “And one thing - tell everyone they’re allowed to dig as much as they want during the mission, and anyone or anything they want. Even any griffons or machines trying to stop you.”

“Really? Buuut-”

“Yes, really,” Chrysalis nods, “You will be in danger, maybe more than back home, so you can’t afford to hold back if necessary. Besides, the griffons will be the bad guys and it doesn’t matter if you destroy any of the machines because the plan is to obliterate the whole laboratory anyway.”

“Huh… you’re right,” 99526 ponders the idea.

“Of course I am,” Chrysalis smirks, “Now, how about you tell me about the stuff you did on this trip? What you enjoyed and what you didn’t. This suppressor makes it annoying to read your mind and I’d like to hear your version of things anyway.”

“Sure, Your Majesty! So I liked the shippy time a lot-”

***

As the darkness falls on the resort, 36658 follows the pink beacon of love visible to any changeling and finds Shining Armor and Cadance sitting in a secluded spot near the sports area, looking up at the stars. Shining immediately stands up as he hears 36658’s hoofsteps in the grass, and Cadance does the same shortly after.

“Mister Shiny, Miss Cadance,” 36658 can sense their apprehension so it reaches for a pouch around its neck and pulls out two pony figurines standing on their hind legs with their forelegs and horns touching, “I just wanted to give you this as a thank you for recharging us a bunch of times and being overall nice to us without having a real reason to.”

Cadence beckons to the drone to approach, and telekinetically grabs the presented figurines complete with a base. The colors are spot on for both Shining and Cadance, there’s even a pattern on their bodies that makes them look fluffy from a distance.

Cadence pauses.

“These are beautiful… and also anatomically accurate,” her sudden change of expression makes 36658 worry a bit.

“I tried to make them as accurate as possible,” the drone nods, “Not sure what atomically means, but I gathered the memories of others who interacted with you and had a good look at you.”

“A very good look,” says Shining. There it is again, good words, not so good tone.

“Did I do it wrong?” asks 36658, “I put in as much detail as I could with talons. Maybe if I knew what tools to use and had time to practice first I could do better.”

“Shiny, it must just be some kind of changeling observation instinct,” Cadence’s unreadable expression thaws and she smiles at 36658, “It’s a beautiful piece, but won’t it melt quickly? I can refill it with love easily but I can’t keep it with me at all times. We travel a lot.”

“I know, but we recently learned how to make goop last longer,” 36658 forces a shaky smile back, “This isn’t the best mix but it should last about a week and it shouldn’t just immediately crumble or melt afterwards so maybe it’ll be something that lasts.”

“How did you make these without us posing?” asks Shining, “I thought you could only make what you see. Or is that just the painter’s thing?”

36658 chuckles.

“We’re good at seeing what is, but not everyone sees what can be,” it says with a wistful expression, “It takes time and the right kind of experience. 20100 will learn and so will the others.”

Cadence pats 36658’s head, revitalizing the visibly worried drone as much as she can.

“We’re stargazing, care to join us?”

To her surprise, 36658 shakes its head and finally genuinely smiles.

“I’ve got drone stuff to do,” it turns around, “Enjoy your evening.”

***

In the jungle, roughly halfway to the Black Ops camp, 99111 decides to test the communicator set deep in its ear while 99526 and 99380 keep looking around in case they’re being followed.

“Testing, testing, this is 99111,” whispers the drone, “We’re on the way and it doesn’t look as if anyone noticed.”

As if the replying speaker was directly next to it, 10013’s voice replies:

“I can hear you loud and clear, 99111. We’re ready and watching everything through 10101’s cameras. The griffons seem busy inside the laboratory so you shouldn’t be in any immediate danger.”

“Thanks, 10013. I’ll call you when we get there.”

Inside the separated part of the Silversmith facility, 10013 relays what 99111 said to 10101, the only one not hearing the conversation directly via a hive link.

The drones are waiting, and 10013 can’t help noticing that its legs are shaking.

Author's Note

I'm not sure how I'm going to do the next day yet, whether as one big update or several very short ones but without a full week between them. Anyway, I hope I'm still making Mondays a little less grueling.

Day 11 - Bleeding the poison out: 1/?

99111, 99380, and 99526 are hiding at the base of a tree within sight of the light coming from the Black Ops cliffside encampment surrounding the native altar hiding the entrance to the Silversmith facility, now shattered to pieces with the secret door stuck open by some booth-sized device on wheels. They can hear griffons talk but can’t make out the words from this far.

“10013, we’re almost there,” reports 99111 in a whisper, “Everything okay on your end?”

“We’re waiting for you before we get going. Be careful while moving around,” says 10101’s voice from the earpiece of 99111 which the drone automatically relays to 99380 and 99526 via a hive link, “If the griffons on watch are using similar equipment to those inside, they’re using night vision goggles, so just darkness won’t be enough of a cover.”

“Can they see like we do?” asks the drone.

“No,” replies 10101 after a brief pause caused by consulting 10013, “While you see completely clearly at this level of illumination, their field of view will be dark green, grainy, and limited to a short distance without any peripheral vision. I doubt they have infrared vision technology, but it isn’t impossible. That means they might be able to see your body heat so you should stay behind cover whenever possible.”

10013, bearing the communicator of the inside group, adds:

“If you need to move around the camp, just fly a bit further away. We can sacrifice several minutes to make sure you guys are safe.”

“Gotcha!” 99111 nods, “Did you think of any good distraction while we were on the way?”

“We need to draw as many griffons out of the underground as possible. A fake attack might do it but it would be incredibly dangerous. However, I was talking to 387 earlier and he brought up the idea of starting a forest fire,” says 10013.

“The jungle is natively fairly wet, so you will require high amounts of flammable materials. Even your resin might not be enough unless you have a lot,” adds 10101 who doesn’t need an earpiece to communicate, “However, that would definitely cripple the griffons’ use of night vision goggles and certainly any infrared scanners, should they have them.”

99526 grins at 99111 who nods with a smirk.

“If we need a lot of goop, we have just the right drone for the job,” reports 99111.

“Ah, 10013 just explained the multiplicative ability of one of your group,” 10101 replies, “How you do it is up to you. Unlike you, I don’t have a full view of the encampment. My advice is to surround the camp with anything flammable first and then light it.”

“Go for it and call us if anything goes wrong,” says 10013, “Any commotion you can cause will benefit us, so don’t risk too much. Good luck.”

“Will do!” says 99111, “And won’t do. You know what I mean,” it turns to the other two and the communication switches to hive links, “Okay, guys. Let’s do it like this - 99380, you’re the best at linking and no matter what happens we’ll hear you so you stay here and observe what the griffons are doing. I’ll escort 99526 and help spread its goop everywhere.”

“Got it!” 99380 nods and the other two fly off, quickly disappearing into the vegetation with a quiet buzz.

***

Roughly fifteen minutes later, the lower part of trunks of most trees around the camp, excluding the direction where 99380 is, is covered in 99526’s goop and the minty smell is becoming noticeable even through the normal jungle scents, so 99111 decides that they probably shouldn’t be adding much more. The trees closest to the camp are untouched, of course, because avoiding griffon perimeter guards could be too tricky.

Despite the frankly ridiculous amount of goop 99526 produced, the drone doesn’t feel particularly exhausted right now.

Must be the Queen’s potion.

“Okay, so how do we make fire?” asks 99526.

99111 freezes. Goop tends to accidentally catch fire on its own most of the time, so there might have been a slight oversight in the plan.

“Holes…” the drone’s breathing quickens as it realizes it may have single-holedly ruined the entire plan, “I… uhh… maybe we could steal one of the lights at the edge of the camp? Or maybe a stick from the fire pit, no no no that’s way too inside the camp.”

“99111, that’s silly. Slow down and breathe. 10013 said that losing a few minutes won’t mean much,” 99526 pats the distraught tech drone’s head.

“Okay okay okay… okayokayokay,” 99111 looks around, “A few more minutes. Think!”

10101 believes you are smart, that you can not just remember the concepts it shared with you, but to apply them. Bend them. Use the concepts. Structural improvements, material reactions…

It looks upwards.

Huuuh…

“99526, got some more gooping in you?” 99111 suddenly asks with a devious glint in its eyes.

“Abso-tively!” 99526 hucks out a chunk.

99111 raises its foreleg and slowly moves it in an arc from the tall tree they’re hiding under towards the camp, and smiles.

Let’s see if 10101’s belief wasn’t misplaced.

“If we can’t bring their fire to our trees, we’ll bring our trees to them,” 99111 taps on the bark, “99526, I need you to goop this whole tree as much as you can, and especially the big, bushy top. Just smear it all over.”

“On it!” 99526 gets to gooping while 99111 does some measurements and uses its own goop to mark several horizontal lines on the thick trunk.

Experimentally, 99111 digs a small chunk of the trunk off and immediately realizes that with how tall and thick the tree is it will take a lot more, and moves the upper line higher. Slowly, it starts shearing the wood off and examining the result. As it gets roughly a third of the way through the trunk, the tree creaks. Thankfully, other than that and some rustling in the canopy, the drone operation is entirely silent.

Ready to fall.

“99526, how’s it going?”

“I’m done with two layers and I can always add more!”

“I think it’s fine. Fly down and hide behind a tree out of the way,” says 99111, and quickly digs several more chunks out of the designated area.

As the tree starts collapsing directly towards the Black Ops camp with loud cracking of breaking branches, 99111 darts away to hide behind a different one. Thankfully, the collapse is slowed down by smaller trees so that it has enough time to get into cover with only the tip of its head peeking out to see if things work out.

“Okay, so the tree should hit the fire in the camp or some of the lights and with this amount of 99526’s goop it should be enough to catch fire and spread it to-”

The tree misses the fire pit in the center of the campbut at least one of the remaining long branches of the canopy falls near enough, and 99111 suddenly finds its breath stuck in its mouth because there’s no more oxygen.

*WHOOOM!*

A rapidly expanding nova of almost liquid, blue fire fueled by eighty-percent alcohol mixed with changeling goop blasts out of the tree’s butchered canopy, setting fire to everything in a radius far beyond what the hiding and immediately slightly singed drones can see.

The griffons start screaming while their clothes catch fire and their light amplification goggles briefly blind them before burning out. However, that’s only part one of their problem, as the exploding cinders and goop scatter over all their tents including the ammo supply.

The following second explosion scatters everything and everyone around the camp. However, even in the inferno full of screams of pain and panic, some of the Black Ops griffons keep cooler heads, and rush through the weaker parts of the fire to grab the surviving fire extinguishers. Unfortunately for them, the two personal extinguishers they find can serve only to save other burning and flailing griffons, and are woefully insufficient against the inferno spreading through the jungle.

99380, thankfully, is in the only part of the circle around the camp which the other two didn’t goop all over, and after the explosion of the ammo supply and addition of the smoke from the extinguishers, the drone gathers enough courage to get something that caught its eye as it rolled towards it.

A REALLY BIG BOOMSTICK!

First things first, though.

“99526, 99111, are you okay? Do you need help?” the time stop during hive mind communication is sure coming handy right now.

“EVERYTHING IS ON FIRE! WE’RE FLYING BACK TO YOU BUT WE HAVE TO GO A BIT MORE AROUND!” yells 99111.

“Meet me here!” 99380 pings a map location some distance away in the direction of the resort.

Armed with the knowledge that both its buddies are safe, 99380 darts towards the edge of the camp, hoping that all the smoke and fire will be enough to obscure it. With the griffons screaming and trying to help each other instead of investigating what caused the current pandemonium, 99380 reaches a dark green, square tube of roughly twice its length lying on the ground.

Empty hole on one end, grid on the other. Talon trigger. Aim the empty end.

99380 hoists the weapon larger than itself on its back before slowly pulling its front half down with one foreleg.

Ready, aim…

The first part of the plan works perfectly, and currently three-legged 99380 aims the rocket launcher at the bungalow-sized machine on wheels stuck inside the entrance to the underground laboratory and presumably keeping it open as 10101 explained. If that goes, the griffons won’t send anyone else inside.

Now up on the hind legs and pull the trigger before it makes you keel over.

The drone quickly stabilizes the front of the rocket launcher with its other foreleg, rises up on its hind legs, and pulls the trigger.

Nothing a tiny drone like 99380 could have done aside from glueing itself to the ground would have prevented even a small jerk of such a massive weapon firing to affect its aim, and the fact that it started keeling backwards the moment it rose itself up definitely didn’t help. The rocket flies above the digger and explodes against the face of the cliff above…

…which starts crumbling.

“WHAT’S GOING OOOOON?!” someone screams as chunks of the cliffside start dropping from the sky all over.

Uhhhh…

At this point, 99380 decides that the griffons are clearly distracted enough, grabs an assault rifle lying nearby with all four legs, not believing them to be steady enough to carry it, and flies off to the meeting point.

Moments later, 99111’s hive link relays 10101’s message coming through its earpiece.

“Despite all my calculations I did not account for THIS,” says the AI, “It might take me a moment to rouse all your jaw-dropped friends into working condition, but we’ll be moving onto the second part of the plan the second I do so. I advise you to immediately clear the area, both to avoid the jungle fire spreading as well as any pursuers once- if the griffons recover. Good job.”

“10013, can I… can I ask something?” 99380 trańsmits a message which 99111 relays to 10013.

“Sure.”

“I… I saw griffons on fire… and then they stopped moving… and screaming,” as the adrenaline overdose starts to drop, 99380 begins coming to terms with what they just did, “We did that…”

“We will talk about it afterwards, buddy,” 36658 replies instead, in a firm but still warm tone, “There’s a price for everything and if we save everyone else on this island it’ll be worth it. High Score would be proud of you.”

“I’m used to us getting nommed, not causing-”

“36658 is right,” says 10013 this time for real, “99380, 99111, 99526, go home and rest. You’ve earned it. Leave the rest to us.”

***

Back in the mostly empty resort, Chrysalis is relaxing in a chair, or at least looks like she’s relaxing, while sipping a cocktail on the promenade and staring north up the mountainous slope.

No one else notices the plume of blue flames suddenly blasting into the sky and vanishing instantly.

The Queen smirks and takes another sip.

Day 11 - Bleeding the poison out: 2/?

While waiting, the AI did something that made a part of the wall open, presenting a strange, thick card, and instructed 10013 to open 10101’s head to plug it into a slot inside. While it didn’t change anything about 10101, the drones were told to protect 10101’s head at all costs.

“You have my permission to dig through the cave-in,” says 10101 after leading the drones to a collapsed end of a tunnel which should be on the far side of the facility, away from the entrance, “The material should be a mix of istrium blocks, cooled lava and obsidian, as well as general rocks and soil, all tightly packed.”

20100 nods, its hoof shimmers, and it instantly removes any material it touches, turning it into a minimal amount of dust and a whole lot of extremely varied radiation visible only to 10101. Mostly, it’s as if one was moving their hoof through water, although there are moments where it feels like tightly packed mud, which must be the istrium.

No matter. Drones exist to dig, everything else exists to be dug.

“I MISSED THIS SO MUCH!” the drone squees. 10013 and 36658 exchange looks and join in.

Things are finally simple again - you make a hole, you remove whatever little is left, you reinforce the wall, you move on. Seeing the others go at it, Smiley beams and starts digging too. With four drones clearing the way for 10101 much faster than it expected, the AI starts explaining the next stage of the plan.

“From the still working cameras it looks like the intruding griffons are regrouping at the entrance. That is a double-edged sword for us. The upside is that it is less likely that we’ll encounter Black Ops members, which means less danger from them and less potential for them spotting changelings being involved and going for retribution later. The downside is that the limited working security forces of the facility will switch their focus to lower priority targets - us. 10013, please, stop digging and come here. I was planning on explaining everything to you while you were clearing the tunnel out but you are progressing significantly faster than I assumed so I’ll take it in stages,” 10101’s chest opens and a glowing three-dimensional map of the facility looking like a reverse, flat-tipped pyramid appears projected into the air from a small glowing circle in it. 10013 joins 10101 and concentrates in order to commit the map to memory and recreate it inside the hive mind, “We are here on level 36, the top level of the facility. We need to get to level 5 where the reactor controls are and plug the AI module inside the head of this chassis into the correct slot. Once I gain access I will be able to regulate the energy inputs of the resonance machines on level 0 as well as open the correct blast shields on lower floors in a way which should guide the flow of magma into the facility and stop the tectonic chain reaction that would activate the volcano.”

Red marks keep appearing on the glowing map which 10013 obediently marks on the hive map just in case something happened to 10101’s ability to project.

“That’s a pretty long trip,” comments 10013.

“We don’t have to walk all the way,” replies 10101, “The reactor control room is accessible via a special elevator usable only with the Forgemaster’s clearance, the same clearance required to access the control room itself as well as use the reactor control override. Just like the office, the elevator is on level 26, two levels under the main entrance.”

“Sounds dangerous, that’s where the griffons will be, right?”

“It depends on if their priorities are looting as much as possible or making sure their losses aren’t critical. From the looks of it, the cliff your friends collapsed didn’t block the entrance off entirely, so once the griffons regroup they might push back against the security forces again. However, the destroyed supply of ammunition is bound to stop them eventually.”

“We’re through!” calls out 20100, its voice echoing through the dark hallway on the other side of the cave-in.

“Excellent,” 10101 measures the hole and finds it accessible for its body, “Now switch to silent communication again. The fewer encounters we face, the higher our chances of getting where we want in one piece.”

“20100, Smiley, stay by 10101’s side,” orders 10013, “36658, let’s go first.”

***

The distraction trio is walking quietly through the jungle back towards the resort, each member lost in a completely different kind of thoughts.

99380 is processing the deaths of griffons, albeit more the aspect of being a part of the responsible group rather than its rocket shattering the cliff being responsible for potentially crushing someone. Despite that, it’s still carrying the assault rifle, albeit now strapped to its back.

Voice? Are you there?

“I am,” the voice responds immediately, completely unnoticed by the other two, “And I must agree with 36658. This is a trade, 99380, and the rules of the trade must be observed. You are getting knowledge which, if used properly, can save hundreds of thousands of drones over time. The price was clear - creating a distraction and assisting the living machine.”

But I didn’t want to hurt-

“Consider it a mistake you made during the distraction then. If you wanted no one to get hurt, you should have designed a plan that had a greater chance of ending differently.”

I didn’t know-

“No, you didn’t. Because you can’t have known. No one ever can know perfectly what the outcome of their actions will be. You can only fail and learn. Right now, you have the luxury of being alive after failing so that you can learn. Don’t beat yourself up, 99380, it won’t help anything. Improve.”

Voice, should I drop the boomstick? It’s similar to what Mister shooty let me practice with and I know how much damage it can do.

“I don’t think so. Tell me, 99380, if a powerful weapon exists, would you prefer it in the hooves of someone who values life and doesn’t want to take it unless absolutely necessary, or in someone else’s?”

99380 goes quiet for a while.

Voice?

“Yes?”

Thank you.

“I said nothing your friends wouldn’t tell you if you talked to them directly. I may have only worded it in a better way.”

Thank you anyway.

“You’re welcome, 99380.”

99526’s thoughts are much less grim even though, technically speaking, it’s the one most responsible for the insanity swallowing the Black Ops camp and the conflagration currently spreading through the jungle. The screensaver with a bouncing ball kind of thoughts.

“Are we really just going home?” asks 99111 who has been frowning into the darkness ahead ever since they escaped into relative safety.

“10013 told us to,” 99526 shrugs, “I mean, it wasn’t an order or anything, but do you have a better idea? I’d like to help, don’t get me wrong, but we sure as holes can’t get to 10013’s group through the griffon entrance and it’ll take way too long to get to 10101’s place and go through there.”

“But you do want to help, right?”

“Imma drone. We dig, carry, and help,” 99526 nods.

“99380?” 99111’s voice turns a little softer.

“Huh? Yeah, sure,” 99380 forces a smile at it, “I… I got a boomstick too. But only for use on the machines,” it adds, “Not on griffons. We help, we don’t hurt unless it’s gribblers or tries to hurt us first. 99526 was right, though. How can we even help?”

“We are drones, guys. The Queen herself said we can dig anything we want. What more do we need?”

***

As the drones descend a staircase and are about to enter floor 26, 36658 is the only one who reacts to a short, but faint and growing hum from the left side of the long hallway, and immediately backs off to the staircase’s narrow landing, pushing itself with one foreleg and pulling 10013 back with the other.

A blast of red light flashes through the main corridor.

“Beam weapons,” 10101 immediately analyzes the situation and stops, “It seems to be one security robot. We should retreat up one floor and descend via a staircase on the opposite side of the facility.”

“Alright, let’s-” 10013 and 36658 turn around. However, as they pass 10101 standing still, the AI reports an update.

“Two units are converging to the stairs exit on the level above us, likely on the way to reinforce the main entrance defences. There’s a working camera near the door.”

“One more set of stairs down it is then,” says 10013.

Before it can even fully turn around, though-

“Danger!” says 10101.

-the drone leader spots, from the corner of its eye, a rapidly brightening red spiral of the horn of a mechanical unicorn aimed straight at it.

The momentary freeze of 10013’s limbs feels like infinity.

Not to 36658, though, who grabbed 10101 with one foreleg the second it spotted the machine rounding the open door, and now pushes itself with the three remaining forelegs along with 10101, using the robot like a shield while flying down the few remaining stairs.

The robot’s horn fires off a blast which sears a hole into 10101’s chassis, and burns the air around the falling duo.

Unfortunately, 36658 and 10101 don’t hit the hostile machine, rather land directly at its forelegs.

It simply points the horn straight between 36658’s eyes, and with the faint hum of charging energy, fires again.

Unlike the other drones, 10101 doesn’t panic either, grabs the security robot’s foreleg within reach, and pulls as hard as it can, sending it to the floor.

The bolt of red light scorches a deep groove through into the side of 36658’s head, but it’s just chitin, and the drone feels a familiar haze of red and definitely un-dronish thoughts:

Kill kill kill kill kill! It’s trying to harm your friends! Kill KILL KILL KILL!

Just like during the incident when 36658 was protecting 57999 from a timberwolf at the poppy patch the two tend to for the Queen, the drone acts on some kind of feral instinct, rises up, and pounces on the security robot, going for the throat.

36658 isn’t directly thinking about it, it just knows that they’re protecting some kind of vital thingy inside 10101’s head, so the robot might be the same, and its hoof shimmering green with the power to dig stomps straight down.

The red spiral on the mechanical horn fades and the security robot stops moving.

Only now do the other drones reach the landing, 10013’s mind reflexively splitting their tasks.

Smiley peeks into the main corridor. 10013 grabs 36658 and examines the deep scar along its muzzle and the side of its head. 20100 helps 10101 get up.

“I’m fine, 10013,” 36658 turns its head when 10013 squeezes it in a bear hug, “It’ll make for a good scar and an even better story once we return home. What about 10101?”

“This unit isn’t made to resist beam weapons, and the systems are reporting minor damage to motor functions,” reports 10101, “We should get moving, but this has given me an idea,”

*Lonely face* *Lonely face*

“Smiley’s giving us all clear,” whispers 10013 so that 10101 is on the same wavelength as the drones.

As they leave the side-area with the staircase and enter floor 26 of the inverted pyramid, 10101 says:

“I don’t doubt the security unit had the time to log this hostile encounter, which means that the internal forces will now be aware of a secondary breach and respond accordingly.”

“As well as this worked, I’m not keen on doing it again,” replies 36658, taking in deep breaths and shaking after the adrenaline overload.

“I may have a solution,” 10101 nods ahead, “Just like there is a chassis storage inside the maintenance section of the facility, there is a storage for inactive military hardware nearby. The AI fragment controlling this unit will be easily transferable.”

The robot projects the three-dimensional map again, and the red line guiding the group to the Forgemaster’s office changes, drawing a slightly different path not leading directly to the center of the floor. 10013 quickly does the same to the hive mind map and takes point with 36658 again.

Thankfully, they don’t meet another security robot and enter a large cargo bay similar to where they originally found a body for the AI. Once the door closes behind them and 36658 starts darting around, looking for threats, 20100 asks:

“What are we looking for? The same machine 36658 destroyed?”

Instead of 10101, the AI answers through a speaker in the ceiling.

“Yes, the lab records don’t mention any special combat unit development so standard security chassis is the best you can find.”

“Got a whole bunch! 10101, can you tell if there’s a useful one?” calls out 10013 from a rack hanging on a wall line with inactive robots.

10101 trots over and examines the machines briefly before simply nodding and touching a panel by the hanging robot. With a series of clicks, the robot slides down and lands cleanly on all fours.

“Excellent, the next part is delicate but 10013 knows what to do,” says the AI, “Find the releasing mechanism on the back of the robot’s head and push the hidden switch like you did with the service chassis.”

10013 nods, flies up because the security robot is bigger than the maintenance one and the drone doesn’t want to do any precision operations while balancing on hind legs, transforms the tip of its hoof into a long, dull spike, and pushes it into a tiny hole in the back panel. The rest of the robot’s head opens in response like a flower, revealing the same mechanism with slots that 10101 has.

“Done!” reports 10013.

“Now I need you to take the memory card out of the maintenance chassis and slot it into the security one.”

“Wait, what will happen to 10101?” 10013 pauses, looking at its robot friend.

“Nothing, this is just a physical body,” says 10101, “On the way here, I transferred any useful files onto the card as well as the compilation of security credentials we will need to access the reactor control room.”

“Okaaaay,” says 10013, hesitantly walking over to 10101.

“Think of this as moving a mind between bodies, not destroying one and creating a new one. Or maybe like changing your carapace designs,” says the robot, “Last time you did it via a wall connection port, now you’re doing it using a physical card. That’s all.”

Emboldened by the explanation, 10013 removes the new memory card, and slots it into the security robot. All the other drones watching the process back off with hesitation as “new 10101” buzzes, its eyes light up, and it takes several experimental steps.

“Good job,” 10101 starts walking faster than in its previous body, “All systems seem functional.”

“Wow, I wish we could do this with changelings too,” 20100 chuckles, the first one to simply accept the new reality and follow the robot, “But our head stuff is squishy. I remember that a cave-in once crushed 54771 and 33011 and I ran over to see if I could help. 33011 didn’t have a head but its legs were still twitching while 54771’s head was all that was left. I tried to goop the head to the hole in 33011’s neck but it didn’t work because the leggos just stopped twitching on their own a moment later. But hey, how cool would it be if we could just scoop the head goop, plop it into a warrior body, and then go punch some slippery munchers.”

“Do not try it on other changelings,” says the new 10101 quickly, “Neural biology is vastly more complicated.”

“Okay,” 20100 shrugs, “Even if we find a head with a shooty horn?”

“No!”

“Awww…”

Author's Note

Huh, not even getting into the Featured stories. As Shrek would say - IT'S ALL OGRE!

Day 11 - Bleeding the poison out: 3/4

The floor plan of the inner part of the pyramid is grid-based, although not every laboratory the drones pass by is the same size, so any larger area must be occupying more squares from the grid. As the drones, who are used to the planning and design style of “go that way until something eats you and dig by hoof”, realize this, everything clicks into place and they barely need 10101’s guidance anymore. This, along with 10101’s new body, speeds up their progress considerably as they can now move in a trot, and they reach a closed door behind which there should be the Forgemaster’s office.

“Do we dig through?” asks 10013 eagerly.

“If the scanner still works, that won’t be necessary,” replies 10101 and presses its hoof against the panel on the side.

The door beeps, slides into the wall, and everyone enters. It is a simple, rectangular office with a workbench, a small table, and a bunch of boxes with shattered screens and tons of buttons. Just like every other area of the complex, the floor is covered with shards of glass the cleaning machines seemingly couldn’t suck in as well as what looks like… other unidentifiable things that aren’t random, broken mess that got knocked down by tremors.

10013, 36658, and 20100 exchange glances that clearly mean they have absolutely zero idea what they’re looking at and much less what they’re looking for.

“Hey, 10101, what’s that clear ants thingy we’re looking for?” asks 36658.

10101’s horn lights up with a blue shimmer, which to the drones now symbolizes non-shooty usage, and projects an image of a thick card into the air.

“This, both in shape and size,” says the robot, “Look around, I need to download recent status reports.”

Without any further explanation, it finds a small panel on a wall, slides it open, and puts its hoof into a fitting slot inside.

The drones don’t waste time with questions and start looking everywhere. The instinct that tells them to find the tightest and darkest spot to sleep in does wonders to help them search through every possible crevice, nook, and cranny, and 20100 eventually pushes the table to the side, rummages through broken glass and dust stacked behind it, and pulls the desired card out.

“Got it! At least I think that’s it,” it blows the dust off of the card and raises it into the air.

10101 disconnects from the wall and nods.

“Excellent job. I’ve updated our security clearances and added your profiles to the staff. In case this body gets damaged to the point where it’s a burden, all you need to do is recover the memory card and you will still be able to get into the reactor control room.”

“Does that mean the security robots won’t shoot at us anymore?” asks 10013.

“Unfortunately, not with the current protocol settings. In case of an emergency like this, all personnel are required to stay inside safe zones while the security forces purge any intruders. However, it means that if we spot a hostile robot coming we can just slip inside certain designated areas and they won’t follow us. It should be easy with most of the reinforced glass windows broken. I would advise you to mark those on your own internal map,” 10101 projects a version of the facility map which takes most of the office space and highlights certain rooms in green.

10013 takes a deep breath and updates everything.

“Phew! This makes me wish 99380 was here,” it wipes its forehead once it’s finished, “All done. Where do we go now?”

“The Forgemaster’s elevator,” 10101 heads to the door, “I checked the local damage report and it seems to be in working order.”

Once they’re out in the corridor, a security robot rounds a corner, immediately aiming its horn at 10101 as the major threat.

In the time it takes for the robot to charge its horn, 10101 aims and shoots, cleanly blasting the security robot’s head off.

“Wooow!” 36658 blinks, “I thought you had the same body. How are you so much faster?”

“While this is the same chassis,” replies 10101 undisturbed, “Even as a fragment I am a full AI, not a scrap of programming limited to several procedures. I can use this body’s functions in a way the security robots can’t, which in this case means better targeting, faster reactions, and lower charge time on the pulse laser if needed. It might tax this body beyond its limits quickly, but I doubt I’ll need it beyond the next hour.”

“Come on,” 10013 smiles, “Maybe you’ll find a way to stop the big boom so well you won’t flood this place with lava.”

“And the griffons?”

“Oh… right,” 10013 falls silent and they resume walking through the inner part of the complex.

The personal elevator obviously built for two small ponies at most accepts the Forgemaster’s clearance card and starts moving once the four drones and one security robot squeeze in, Smiley and 10101 next to each other, 36658 and 20100 crouched under them, and 10013 standing on their backs. Thankfully, the elevator starts moving despite the weight...

At least until it stops with a painful, grinding noise accompanied by clicking only two floors lower as another tremor shakes the metal box.

“What happened?” asks 10013, looking around, “Why isn’t the lifty box moving?”

“The earthquake seems to have been strong enough to damage the elevator and the emergency brakes stopped us. Those were the four loud clicks you heard,” 10101 analyzes the situation, “The grinding noise, however, didn’t sound correct. I think we’re stuck.”

“How about we dig through the bottom and fly down the shaft?” 36658 offers a solution.

“Hmmm,” 10013, being the one on top, attempts to pick 10101 up. With a grunt and loud buzzing, the robot’s hooves barely leave the floor, “I don’t think even your wings could carry 10101 alone, 36658. 10101, would we fit into the shaft if each of us held one of your legs?”

“Doubtful,” the robot shakes its head, “Besides, if anything is off with the shaft or the elevator’s brakes, or if another tremor hits while we're flying down and the cabin drops it will be a death sentence.”

“Digging through the shaft it is then,” decides 10013 after checking the floor plan of the facility, and marking several points on the map, starting with their current position, “36658, Smiley, you start with the bottom, I’ll do the top, 20100 reinforces it with goop. We need to make the tunnel wide enough for 10101. Let’s go.”

“This is an inconvenient time sink, but I don’t have a better idea,” 10101 nods.

Within mere five minutes and one determined mechanical kick, 10101 drops through a ceiling one floor below on a disc cut out by the drones. Istrium disc drops to the floor with 10101 landing on it, dust rises, and several gunshots pierce the air accompanied by muzzle flashes. A duo of griffons quickly start backing off into cover provided by one of the regularly placed thick frames supporting the ceiling.

Unfortunately for them, the dust cover means nothing for 10101 who snipes one through the head. The recharge time of the beam weapon, however, gives the other time to hide behind the left frame.

Only now do the drones, previously only playing the role of several curious ceiling cats, drop into the tunnel.

They hear several sharp breaths before the griffon throws something into the hallway. A shoe?

There’s no time to analyze the situation, however, as the soldier immediately leans out of cover, a rifle aimed at 10101.

His left foreleg and a good part of the rifle disappear in a flash of red light as 10101 shoots them off with absolute precision, which is followed by the groaning and twitching griffon falling out of cover.

“What was this about?” 10013 whispers, examining the shoe while 10101 approaches the griffon.

“Probably to bait out a shot and use the recharge time to act,” comments 10101, “A good plan. It might have worked on a standard security bot. Do you want an opportunity for personal revenge? Even if he doesn’t pass out, he won’t be able to crawl out of here in time so you don’t need to worry about being identified.”

The drones exchange quizzical looks before they realize what 10101 means, upon which-

“Nope! Nope nope nope. Nooooope,” 20100 immediately backs away, vigorously shaking its head.

10013 somehow manages to pale through its chitin and gags a little.

Smiley raises a tablet with [???], entirely incapable of grasping the concept.

36658, however, walks over and looks the barely conscious griffon in the eyes.

“We wouldn’t have to be here if you greedy griffons didn’t show up! The tremors wouldn’t be happening! No one would be in danger!” its breathing quickens and its voice gains a higher pitch, “I WOULDN’T BE THIS SCARED! ALL THIS IS YOUR FAULT!”

It raises its hoof, glowing green, and stomps on the griffon’s head with fangs bared, cleanly digging through and leaving a deep scar in the istrium floor.

“L-Let’s m-m-move…” 36658 stutters out.

Trembling, twitching, and breathing raggedly, the drone then turns around and almost mechanically starts following the mental map trail leading to the nearest stairwell. 10101 overtakes the drones again, its horn shimmering and ready to shoot in case of any threats.

“Are you okay?” 10013 taps into 36658’s strangely weak link.

“N-No,” replies 36658, “But H-High Score h-h-had to deal with n-nightmare horrors at-at night and p-paladins were chasing it so-so that no one w-would be in d-d-danger. AND it d-disobeyed a di-direct order from a hi-high r-r-rank. This is no-nothing in comparison.”

***

Another tremor shakes the ground, but drones are significantly resistant to bouncing down a flight of stairs, so they recover quickly and only with some shaking of heads.

The descent to level 6 from which it would be possible to get to the reactor control room on 5 is otherwise uneventful. I mean, they do encounter some security forces but the singular robots get easily swept away by 10101. However, around level 10 the heat begins rising considerably even in the well-insulated stairwell, so 10101 stops on a landing and says:

“This is suspicious. The heat shielding around the bottom layers must have been damaged. Open the door, I’ll keep an eye out on anything coming our way from below.”

10013 nods and opens the heavy door to level 10, making the mistake of breathing in as it does so.

It grunts and hisses, immediately jumping away on instinct as burning air sears its lungs and landing on its back. 20100 waits for nothing and slams the door shut again.

In response, 36658 takes a deep breath itself, opens the door, and peeks into the outer hallway. Bright outer hallway lit by the glowing red magma in the distance and fires everywhere it can see. It closes again, enjoying the coolness of the stairwell again as it finally dares to breathe in.

“F-Fire ev-everywhere,” it says.

“Hmm, hopefully the damage is localized. Thank you,” 10101 starts descending down the stairs, horn at the ready, “10013, how bad is it?”

“Bad, but I can breathe. I’d rather not talk right now. I’ll be okay in a few minutes.”

“Says it’ll be okay in a few minutes,” reports 20100, taking 10013’s place next to 36658 while 10013 remains a bit behind with Smiley.

“Good,” says 10101.

“H-How come it’s n-not so hot he-here?” asks 36658.

“The stairwells are built as emergency escapes. They have a separate passive and active air flow as well as added shielding. In case of a collapse like this, they will last the longest but magma takes down everything eventually.”

“Why not build the whole place like that?” 20100 looks at the robot.

“Size plus time and resource investment regarding both building and, much more in the long run, maintenance. You described your daily routine of reinforcing tunnels where your resin dissipated, the reasoning is similar.”

“Ohhh!” 20100 nods, “Yup, makes sense.”

The group descend all the way to level 6 in silence, 36658 internally stuck rewatching a loop of it killing the griffon, 10013 healing its lightly burned lungs, 20100 taking the active role of a lookout, and Smiley being Smiley.

Thankfully, when 36658 volunteers, takes a deep breath, opens the door marked L6 set on the complete bottom of the stairwell, and looks around, it doesn’t get scorched like 10013.

“S-Seems ok-okay,” it whispers.

10101 nods and enters the outer hallway. Scanning unsuccessfully for any threats, the robot says:

“Looks clear, but be careful,” it starts heading to the left. Unlike the other floors the drones have seen there are no windows in the inner wall showing laboratories and offices, only a solid istrium wall. That might also be a reason why this floor isn’t covered in magma while the above ones likely are, “This floor contains sealed parts of the reactor and the only thing accessible here is the authentication hallway,” it projects a zoomed in square floor map split into four with a cross of two hallways, revealing their location, and marking their route to the center.

“We’re almost there,” 10013 connects to the others with a sigh of relief, “But stay on the lookout.”

*Wary face!*

“H-How are you f-feeling?” asks 36658, “B-breathing wise.”

“It feels kinda… scratchy? But I’m okay. don’t worry. Your stutter isn’t getting better, though.”

“D-Doesn’t st-stop me from m-moving,” 36658 shrugs.

They quickly clear the distance to the cross section, revealing that one of the hallways slopes down and ends in a heavy blast door, presumably leading to level 5. 10101 stops in the center of the cross section and points its foreleg to the left and right hallway.

“There is security here. Cover behind the corner while I take care of it,” it charges its horn and takes one step into the sloping corridor while the drones split into pairs, 36658 and 10013 on the left and 20100 and Smiley on the right.

Two small drums with glowing crystals in the front emerge, one sliding out of the ceiling and one from the floor. 10101, horn pointed directly in the middle of the corridor, immediately fires at the bottom one, blasting a glowing hole in it. Before it can charge another shot to dispatch the second security turret, though, it fires with more speed and precision than any security robot they’ve met so far.

Only 10101’s advanced intelligence gives it enough reaction speed to duck while backing off, saving its head from the fate of the bottom turret and dooming the entire operation. However, the downwards angle of the shot makes it so that the beam scratches the side of 10101’s reinforced barrel and sears a hole through the robot’s hind leg currently supporting its weight.

With drone natural reaction times being similar, the coolest head and best carapace win, and 10013 darts towards 10101 collapsing on the floor, grabs its leg, and pulls the robot into cover before the next shot can finish it off.

Thankfully, while the turrets are clearly quicker than mobile robots, they can’t shoot behind corners, so they’re safe for now. The question of how to progress remains.

“The fixed position gives the turrets more accuracy, and being plugged directly into the facility’s circuit makes the recharge time faster,” comments 10101, projecting the map again and simulating various encounter patterns on it. Across the open cross section, 20100 calls out in a loud whisper:

“Can we help?”

“No, stay there!” replies 10101, “You can’t cross the distance before you get shot. I’ll figure something out. These turrets aren’t armored. They’re precision tools, not fortifications. Clearly they’re made to support fodder units.”

For the next minute, 10101 runs simulation after simulation, most ending with the robot down.

“Hmmm, I think we can hone in on a scenario where I go one for one. However, there’s still a high chance of my head being damaged.”

10013 taps its hoof on the floor.

“In Scufflestick, if we need units to avoid taking fire, we have to sacrifice other units to give them time. What if-”

10013 grits its teeth and ignores 387’s voice crossing its mind.

“-I jump across, bait a shot, and 36658 helps you move into a firing position quicker,” 10013 finishes the sentence.

“The power and rate of fire of that turret makes it so that it can break through an istrium chassis with ease. It will punch a hole straight through you.”

“T-That’s why I gotta g-go,” 36658 stands up on all fours, muzzle scrunched, “N-No arg-arguing.”

“36658-” 10013 looks at it, shaking its head.

“NO! A-Arguing!” 36658 snarls at 10013.

The leader backs off, biting its lower lip.

I should have a better plan but I have NOTHING!

“R-Ready?” 36658 taps on 10101 who rises up on its working three legs, “10013. Your p-plan! Us swa-swapped. N-Nothing is f-free, 10013.”

I’ve got nothing, no idea, no tricks, no strategy.

The best I can do is let 36658 do what it wants instead of sending Smiley to possibly die when it wouldn’t even understand what it’s doing and why.

10013 takes a deep breath, positions itself by 10101’s side, and nods.

36658 starts counting down from three, but doesn’t get further than two before the ceiling collapses behind them without any warning or a tremor.

Day 11 - Bleeding the poison out: 4/4

“What in all holes are you doing here?!” 10013’s jaw drops as the cloud of dust from the broken ceiling clears, revealing 99111, 99526, and finally 99380 strapped to a gun larger than itself.

“We came to help,” says 99111 simply, “Excellent job tracking the hive links, 99380!”

“Thanks,” mumbles the drone and forces a weak smile.

“I guess…” 10013 looks at the hole the other team came through, “At least we have an escape route, right?”

“Uhhh…” 99111 scratches its head.

“Nu uh,” 99526 shakes its head, “We just dug as straight down as we could without falling, and it’s too narrow to fly up.”

36658 scowls at 99111 and walks over, their noses almost touching and looking the other drone eye to eye.

“Y-you h-h-had your o-orders!” hisses 36658 through bared teeth.

Never before has 99111 been scared of another drone, but it being 36658 and due to their “contest”, some part of it just wants to win at any encounter, including a verbal one.

“Not exactly orders, more like a suggestion,” says 99111, voice filled with bravado audible to anyone with any social sense, which makes it entirely safe from correct interpretation in its current company, “Besides, aren’t you the one who always says we should be like High Score, and wasn’t one of its big deeds the disobeying of an order from a higher rank?”

36658’s eye twitches but it finds itself at a loss for words.

“Stop that, 36658,” says 10013, “What’s done is done, we just have to deal with it,” it looks over at 99380, “Is that one of the griffons’ guns?”

“Hm? Yes, I took it from the camp…” admits 99380, “I… can’t recall why, it’s all a blur. I just thought I wanted to try shooting with it -JUSTATPAPERCUTOUTS- like I did with smaller guns at the range. I enjoyed that.”

10013 simply nods and turns around.

“Hmm, 10101, would it be possible to break that turret with this kind of a gun? 99380, get over to 10101 and show it, it can’t walk that well right now.”

99111 leaves 36658 who remains standing and staring angrily in the direction where 99111 previously stood, and joins 99380 who shows the griffon rifle to 10101.

“Certainly,” 10101 assesses the weapon, “A projectile rifle with limited ammo, the construction and barrel length should give it a viable range. However, we still run into the problem of being able to fire without being shot first.”

“Well,”10013 rubs its head, “How about, instead of using 36658 as a distraction, we use your hard body as cover while 99380 shoots? Maybe we could take the card out of your head-”

“Excellent idea if the drone can shoot the gun accurately,” 10101 agrees immediately, “We’ll only get one safe opportunity because that turret is powerful enough to break through an istrium chassis as we saw earlier. Anything past that will be dangerous. Unfortunately, to provide proper cover I will have to be in control of the body. Simply pushing a pile of istrium into the hallway won’t work. So, 99380, can you fire that rifle accurately?”

“Can I try it first?” asks 99380, unstrapping the rifle from its back, “I mean, do I have the ammo? I just shot these things before as Mister shooty told me, I don’t know how they work.”

“Understood,” 10101 fiddles with the weapon, “Switched from burst to single-round, ammo check - fully loaded, 20 shots. Armor piercing. The griffons definitely came prepared,” 10101 nods its head approvingly.

99380 picks the gun up and aims it into the hall across the open space and at the side where Smiley and 20100 aren’t, quickly changing its carapace in a flash of green fire into “stability mode”. In the meantime, 10013 connects to 99380 and projects the memories of 10101’s encounter with the turrets.

99380 fires a shot which echoes through the otherwise silent hallways.

“Ooookay, for how big this boomstick is, it's suuuuper stable,” the drone comments and fires again, “Got it, I can hit the ceiling turret thingy easy.”

10013 pats 99380’s head.

“Okay, buddy. Don’t panic, don’t freeze, and keep shooting until it stops shooting back.”

99380 nods, grasping the rifle tightly with the hooves of its forelegs transformed into talons.

“I’ll h-help 10101 get into p-p-position,” says 36658, positioning itself under the robot’s belly. The military chassis is just tall enough for it to work if 36658 crouches.

“The turret should identify me as a greater threat and if I bend my neck behind my body it should fire at the center of mass,” says 10101, “For synchronization, 10013 should count us down from three, and we go on zero.”

“Everyone ready?” asks 10013. As they all nod or grunt, it goes: “Three… two… one… go!”

36658 and 10101 move in sync, the robot quickly adapting to the push provided by the drone. 99380 reacts a little slower which works to its benefit as the first beam shot scatters sparks from the point of impact against 10101’s armored neck. Thankfully, the robot was expecting it and the neck is bent behind its barrel so much the head is almost entirely in cover of its own body.

The robot stops mid-way and crouches just as 36658 slides from underneath it across the open area to the cover of the opposite hallway where Smiley and 20100 immediately grab its forelegs and pull it to safety entirely.

99380 lands behind 10101 just as the second shot impacts the barrel and…

…locks up entirely under fire.

It takes only a fraction of a second, but the links of other drones punch into its mind like a digging hoof. 36658’s influence pushes the terror of imminent death to the back of 99380’s head, 20100’s warm belief that 99380 can do it loosens its tensed up muscles, and 10013’s closeness streamlines its scattered thoughts into a series of movements.

99380 lines its own shot. It fires but yelps and twitches on instinct as the next beam hits right next to the rifle’s barrel propped on 10101’s back, and while the bullet hits it does no visible damage as the turret fires again.

This time, 99380 steadies itself better and unloads shot after shot directly at the crystals glowing behind some mesh at the front of the turret. By round five something sparks and fizzles inside it with a loud crack and it finally stops firing.

The drones immediately rush over. 36658’s legs start trembling as it looks at the robot’s shredded body, the barrel full of holes still glowing red, steaming, and revealing sparking wiring inside.

99380 slowly keels over backwards on its butt as it, from the corner of its eye, spots a black groove in the floor right next to its right hind leg where a beam punched through 10101’s body and nearly shot the drone’s hind hoof off.

“Hoof… on… panel. Memory card,” says 10101 in a weak, staticky voice before the lights in its eyes turn off.

“10101… buddy…?” 99526 shakes the robot’s body before shooting everyone around a distressed glance.

Smiley joins in and nudges the motionless robot with its nose before scribbling: [?no]

“It-It’s just a b-body,” says 36658 while 10013 opens the back of the robot’s head and pulls out the memory card.

“It said something about a hoof on a panel,” says 10013 while rushing ahead into the hopefully not deadly hallway, “Take the body, 36658, 20100! 99111, 99526, help 99380!”

The newbie drones help heavily breathing 99380 back up while the remaining veterans minus Smiley pull 10101’s body towards the door. Upon reaching it, 10013 takes the robot’s foreleg and presses it against the black door panel like it’s seen the robot do multiple times. The panel doesn’t react whatsoever.

“What?” 10013 stops, drawing blanks on what to do next.

36658 presses its own hoof against the panel this time. The panel beeps, a small green dot appears on its side, but the door still doesn’t open.

“Huh, that did something,” 10013 hazards a guess, “Maybe you gotta do something with the card as well?”

“Right!” 20100 nervously looks around before pressing the card against the panel too, which does nothing.

“Looks like there’s a slot underneath. Similar to the one by the broken lifty box,” says 10013, its head almost pressed against the wall, “Try shoving it in there.”

The previously familiar features of the underground suddenly feel incredibly alien without the guidance of 10101. However, 20100 slides the card in and they all breathe a sigh of relief as the door opens, revealing a floor 5 with its walls covered in boxes, some hollow but some showing weird light pictures, innumerable buttons, and ground covered with shattered glass.

“Okay, what now?” asks 99111 as all drones get inside and pull 10101’s body in as well.

The door closes behind them and a short pedestal slides out of the floor by the opposite wall.

“We need to put the big card and the small card somewhere,” says 10013, looking at the pedestal with suspicion, “10101 didn’t say where, so look for slots like the one by the door and in 10101’s head,” it shakes its head to dispel its worries and approaches the pedestal, spotting a slot on top of it, “That’s convenient.”

The AI memory card fits into the slot and the whole area lights up, followed by:

“Well done, changelings! I’m glad the staff status I assigned you let you through the door, although I don’t doubt you could have just dug your way through,” said by the AI’s voice coming from speakers near the ceiling, “Wait, what is Smiley doing?”

The drones look at the Silent who, upon hearing the voice, flew up to the nearest speaker and is now vigorously rubbing it with its nose.

“I d-don’t think it gets the whole ‘b-b-body switching’ part,” says 36658, “L-let it be ha-happy. What do we d-do now?”

“The entire wall is a control panel for the reactor as well as the machinery further below,” says the AI, “See the small, red square covered by a glass box? Push it up and insert the Forgemaster’s card.”

“Y-you can s-see us?” asks 36658 while 10013 searches the panel for the described… device.

“There’s a working camera above the door. The small dome.”

“Hiiii!” 99380 and 99526 wave at it while 99111 flies to it and examines it up close. Smiley scribbles [fren!] on its tablet, takes it off, and vigorously waves it in front of the dome, almost swatting 99111 away.

“I’m happy to see you too but, please, clear my line of sight,” says the AI, “You won’t gain any useful information by hovering in front of the camera and I won’t be able to direct you if needed.”

“Awww,” 99111 lands again and begins fiddling with 10101’s shredded chassis.

“Done!” reports 20100 and pushes the Forgemaster’s card into the slot.

Immediately, the facility shakes and a whining screech of metal grinding against something equally hard resonates through the halls.

“What was that?” asks 10013 as everyone looks around, worried.

“I’ve taken control of the self-destruct process,” says the AI, “However, you must leave immediately. The heat shielding has degraded much further than the damage reports indicated, and the tectonic control process has gone differently than it should. Plus, someone made a hole going directly through said heat shield.”

“Uh oh,” mutters 99111.

“Exactly,” the AI laughs, “Changelings, there’s no time for goodbyes. I thank you for your service and, if you want to get out of here alive, START RUNNING!”

“MOVE!” yells 10013 as the grinding sound shakes the facility again and the changelings notice the temperature rapidly rise, “Where do we go?” it calls out just in case there’s some secret, quick path to the surface.

“Stairwell. All the way up!” responds the AI, and the changelings bolt with 36658 in the lead and 10013 in the back, making sure everyone is running.

All that remains behind is the whirring and beeping of electronics and a tablet reading [fren!] dropped on the floor under the camera.

***

They rush back out into the central crossroad on level 6, their eyes and lungs burning from the smoke and sulfurous smell that’s suddenly everywhere. The ceiling is cracked and bulging downwards as if holding something too heavy, and magma is flowing through the hole in the hallway to the left which 99111’s group made.

Another tremor rocks the ground, this one clearly an earthquake, and they hear something crumble, followed by some dust kicked up at the end of the hallway directly ahead. While that doesn’t bode well because it means that both short routes to the stairwell might be blocked, 36658 keeps running straight.

They reach the T-section at the end of the hallway and look left. The bad thing is that the left side of the ceiling between the reinforced frames has crumbled and magma is seeping through. The good things are that they can see pretty well with the light cast by the molten rock and that they can still get through if they hug the right wall and don’t breathe much.

There is zero hesitation, the hive instinct connecting all the drones’ links is once again tapping into 36658’s focus and suppressing the horror in the others while using 10013’s organization skills to trace a route, all this through 99380’s more attuned brain. Seven drones, one unit.

The ceiling is made of several massive slabs of istrium partially laid over each other and supported by the equidistant load-bearing frames. It doesn’t look like the blocks broke, the seams on the sides holding them did. The floors above were burning while we were on the way already. The magma must be coming in from there.

That piece of analysis is meaningless right now, but still crosses 10013’s mind. Taking a deep breath before dodging the magma trickling from the remaining ceiling and hugging the right wall, 36658 leads the way, hoping to stop under the next frame and do a brief check if everyone made it through okay. Immediately, a corresponding waypoint appears on the hive mind map.

Everything goes smoothly and they get through the collapsed section…

…until 10013 passes Smiley who suddenly darts sharply to the left at the edge of the caved-in ceiling.

What?

10013’s legs remain in control, though, almost until the drone leader reaches the relative safety of the frame, upon which it can finally turn around and see Smiley standing over one of the disk-shaped cleaner robots partially crushed under the fallen ceiling, hoof raised and glowing green.

“SMILEY-”

Smiley digs a chunk of the fallen ceiling off and victoriously pulls the robot out.

“-NO!”

The ceiling chunk slides a little due to the loss of support of the dug out part. Smiley twitches and looks up.

“DROP IT AND RUN!” screeches 10013, voice jumping up an octave in pitch.

Smiley finally drops the robot and takes its first steps forward just as the entire ceiling panel simply slides downwards like a hydraulic press. The drones only see a flash of green before a thick cloud of dust obscures their vision but they don’t dare leave the safety of the frame.

Smiley materializes out of the dust, paws for a tablet on its neck that’s not there, and tightly grabs the frame.

36658 waves its foreleg to clear its vision.

“Okay, Smiley made it. Let’s-” it gets ready to run the final stretch.

There’s no way Smiley had the time to run that distance within the fraction of a second.

The dust finally settles enough to see just as 36658 checks all connected hive links.

No…

10013, surrounded by a bright green aura of burning love, carapace shattered and cracked but holding together with the same overload of energy, is holding up the massive slab of ceiling.

“99380, STOP TIME NOW!” 36658 does something it never thought possible, and assumes direct control of another drone. A willing one, of course, forceful control is way beyond anything it can do.

Everyone slips into the darkness of the hive mind.

“Ow ow ow ow,” the image of 99380 is rubbing its head, “I can’t maintain a complete standstill for long, I think. I’ve never tried.”

“S-sorry for that,” says 36658, “Not w-what I was try-trying to do, but it w-worked even better.”

“You should be running,” says 10013, “Don’t try to argue with me. Just go! I did the analysis. If you try to free me in any way, the ceiling will collapse on you. If you try to dig the ceiling into parts, the magma will seep through immediately. I’m holding it only because I’m fully charged and because of the carapace design I upgraded.”

The drones try to come to terms with what just happened, but 36658 just yells.

“Everyone, be quiet!” it looks at 10013, “The m-moment the time s-stop ends, I will r-r-run over to you-”

“No!” says 10013.

“Everyone m-means you t-too, 10013,” 36658 looks the drone leader directly in the eyes, “I w-will run over and I will g-g-give you the rest of Miss Gem’s u-ultra strong paink-killers as well as the ones I m-made based on hers. Absorb them im-immediately. If we can’t s-save you I can at least m-make sure it d-d-doesn’t hurt. G-Got it?”

10013 nods.

“Wait, we must try-”

“Maybe we can-”

“If we all hold-”

“SHUT! UP!” roars 36658, turning away from 10013 and giving others a fiery glare, “We h-have seconds at b-best. 99380 might not e-even remain on its l-legs after we leave the hi-hive mind. All of you w-will do what I-I say, no questions, a-and we will l-lose ONLY one of us. Understood?”

20100, eyes tearing up and teeth gritted. nods, which makes everyone else do it too.

“As 10101 said - no time for goodbyes,” 10013 forces a smile, “High Score did what was necessary and it will be proud of you if you do it now too.”

“99380, st-stop the link-up,” orders 36658.

The burning and agonizing sensations of current reality return to 10013 who, through a haze of energy, tears, and steam barely sees a black blur that must be 36658, and opens its mouth into which a hoof shoves several pills which it swallows.

It only takes two lung-searing breaths, each more difficult due to the crushing weight squeezing it from above.

Burning of magma dripping down its barrel fades.

Pain of chitin and bones being ground to dust stops.

10013 finds itself in pitch darkness again, this time without the silvery lines denoting the “floor” of the hive mind.

It feels normal but can’t sense anyone else.

“Guys?” it speaks out.

“I’m afraid you’re on your own now, 10013,” says ‘the voice’.

“That makes sense,” the drone leader shrugs, “I just hope they all get out.”

“You know you made quite the wrong choices, right? You were ready to let 36658 sacrifice itself to destroy the turret instead of Smiley, and now it ruined everything. I must admit I agree with 387 in this case - losing a veteran drone will be significantly more painful for the hive than losing a Silent.”

“I just… couldn’t. You wouldn’t understand, voice. You didn’t exist in the old days,” says 10013.

“Enlighten me, then.”

“Whenever we made a mistake, we died. Whenever we got hurt too badly to work, we died. If drones hatched with any visible sign they wouldn’t be worth the love, they died. Tunnel monsters, high ranks… there was no difference. There were no second chances, often not even first. Smiley is the embodiment of all these problems, it was specifically created to die, and yet it still is alive. How could I say that times have changed if I did the same thing a high rank would do in the old days?”

A sudden wave of dizziness strikes 10013, making it lie down.

“I was the leader. As 65536 would say - I was responsible, no matter if we succeeded or failed.”

“I… think I understand,” says the voice after a while.

Silence lengthens as 10013 is slowly losing strength to talk. Even just breathing is becoming quite the chore.

“Voice?”

“Hmm?”

“You can tell me now that it’s all over - are you sure you’re not High Score?”

“No, I’m not,” the voice laughs, “I know that for sure. Do you want to know how I know?”

“How?”

“Because you are. You faced way too dangerous enemies. You saved drone after drone during your life. You were a prime example to your peers as well as a leader. You disobeyed a high rank. You saved Smiley just like 9999 did and-”

“...and I’m dead… because of it… too…” 10013 lets out a single chuckle before there’s not enough air in its lungs anymore. All it can do is silently mouth, “36658... was right. It doesn’t… even… hu-”

Author's Note

And, as always, the epilogue will be out later this week.

Day ?? - Trust: Epilogue

A gasp for air.

A critical mistake.

Pain shooting through everything.

Nerves lighting up from the spine all over the body.

10013 opens its eyes.

It’s lying on something soft. To a drone that means - not a rock.

The situation doesn’t make sense, so it tries to sit up.

“...owww…” an inaudible grunt comes out of its parched mouth as its body barely moves.

It adjusts its expectations for an attempt number two, and just tries to turn to the side, which ends up with more success but also additional red-hot needles covered in extremely angry lightning cacti shooting through its body.

Through blurred vision, it can see something dark and… familiar? It blinks.

Another drone smiling at it. It tried to blink the haze away again.

“...”

Impossible.

There are very few distinguishing features between healthy drones but that only means some stand out immediately, and 10013 realizes it’s looking at 9999 smiling at it.

Buddy?

The smile remains as 10013’s eyes tear up but its body still isn’t listening. However, the tears wash away whatever crust was obscuring 10013’s vision and it realizes it’s looking at a picture painted on some kind of plastic mold with bits pushed out for a three-dimensional effect. Excellent likeness.

The picture is propped against a lamp screwed into a small bedside table. Correction - netside table.

10013 realizes that its support is swaying from side to side.

It’s shippy time again.

Was it all just a nightmare?

The pain shooting through its body as it tries to sit up again has something to say about that silly idea.

The two hammocks above 10013 are empty but there’s someone sleeping in the bottom one on the other side of the room- cabin. With no ability to speak or move, 10013 closes its eyes and, slowly, its mind lights up with familiar hive links.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Five?

“...no…” croaks 10013, growing terror finally forcing its body to move despite the agony, and it pushes itself off of the hammock and onto the carpeted floor. Even the light impact lights up every nerve in its body and makes it pass out again.

Only briefly, though, as its internal clock tells it when it wakes up again.

This time, it stands up and painfully slowly limps over to the other drone in the cabin. It’s 99380, its link barely active and unresponsive when 10013 tries to mentally reach out.

“36658!” 10013 screams mentally, reaching only one other nearby link which shivers.

What did 36658 do?! I was supposed to stay down there! I can’t lose another one!

Why was everything so much easier for the few seconds when it thought it was the one dead? Why is it immediately so much worse when it is alive and 36658 is gone?

The link responsible for all this is the other one within reach, though.

SMILEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!

Foaming at the mouth with sudden fury, 10013 follows the link into the cabin’s bathroom. As it reaches for the handle, it sees that its foreleg is entirely held together with bandages covered with brown and green stains, but none of it matters due to the red haze descending on the drone.

It pulls the door open, ready to scream and maybe… just maybe… do something worse.

The small bathroom’s walls are covered in writing, all different but stating the same thought:

[Dum. Usles. Food. Stupd. Nofren.]

The writing isn’t in chalk, at least not entirely. Not white but dark brown. Smiley is lying motionless in a shower corner, the same dark brown smear on the wall above it. It doesn’t move as 10013 approaches.

“Get up!” the drone leader steadies its voice into a growl, and the Silent obeys, staring blankly at it and confirming that the blood added to the goop chalk is from its broken nose.

10013 raises its foreleg with a scowl, hoof glowing green.

Your fault! All your fault! 387 was right.

10013 breathes out and the foreleg descends.

Slowly, without the digging glow, and wraps around the back of Smiley’s barrel, pulling it into a hug.

Only then does Smiley react with a quiet sigh.

“This is an angry hug,” says 10013, each word slow and measured, all both an accusation as well as self-reflection, “But what’s done is done. Drones stick together. It is your fault, but not only yours. I agreed to 10101’s deal. We got a lot out of it. I made a choice to save you and… 36658 made a choice to somehow save me.”

Smiley slowly raises its hoof and 10013 follows it pointing at one of the many poorly spelled insults scrawled on the walls.

“I will show you how to make another slate, but you will be the one to make it. No one will hold your hoof anymore. You will learn quickly… or not, your choice. I will sacrifice no one else for you until you earn it. That’s how it’s going to be, whether you understand me or not.”

Smiley lowers the hoof again and returns the hug. 10013, however, senses a pull from the Silent’s hive link and, even as angry as it is, it can’t stop its curiosity.

Smiley is scared and freezes up. 9999 pauses to yell at it to run and digs at the strange, fleshy tunnel collapsing on them. Smiley finally moves, but the moment of lost time makes it so that the tunnel swallows 9999, leaving only its hoof sticking out of the flash mass. Smiley pulls at the hoof to help 9999, and is left only with a broken off fetlock in its hooves, melted by the acidic tunnel. Smiley flees.

Smiley sees a cleaner disc stuck under rubble. A tool like itself, and tries to free it. It digs it out and pulls, leaving only a useless half of the chassis in its hooves. Everyone screams at it to run while looking up in horror. Smiley flees.

Smiley watches as crawling 20100 pulls out unconscious 10013 across the floor while 36658 holds the ceiling a little further away. 36658 is burning with love while being visibly crushed with every passing moment. 20100 puts 10013’s shattered body in a cocoon glued to Smiley’s back with 99526’s goop. 36658, with no painkillers, screams as lava drips from the ceiling on it, setting its carapace on real, non-green fire, but somehow holds. 99111 picks up collapsed, dead-eyed 99380 while 20100 gives one final look to 36658 and says: “High Score is proud of you, buddy.” Smiley flees alongside everyone.

The three brief flashes of memories end, releasing 10013 back into the real world. 10013 breaks the hug and stands up with a hiss of pain.

“Clean up,” it nods to the walls, “We represent the hive, and this will reflect badly on us all. You are responsible for yourself. No one will hold your hoof anymore,” it repeats.

With that, 10013 slowly limps out of the bathroom, closing the door behind itself. The bitter aftertaste of the entire interaction remains, but the desire to physically hurt Smiley from earlier when it realized what must have happened after it passed out is gone.

Yet another mental pull draws its attention to 99380’s hammock. The unconscious drone’s link is woefully weak but it feels as if there was a message waiting for when 10013 woke up. Upon tapping into it, 10013 finds itself once again in the darkness of the hive mind, this time facing-

“36658?” 10013 smiles but that simple quickly fades when 36658 coughs and says:

“Is this thing on? Holes, I hope so. 10013, you need to know this but I don’t have much time. 99380 is exhausted already from the first time stop but agreed to let me record this so I’ll try to be quick. I asked how it was doing it but it just said the hive mind has buttons,” 36658 takes a breath as 10013 slumps to the floor, feeling its heart being ripped out of its chest for the third time in mere minutes, “First thing first - don’t blame yourself. Maybe don’t blame even Smiley, although definitely bonk it over the head if you all get out,” 36658 chuckles with surprising positivity and 10013 realizes that it’s not stuttering anymore, “Sorry I lied to you but I knew you wouldn’t agree with my plan. By now you must have realized that the painkillers were to knock you out and let me take your place. No, it wasn’t not due to my desire to be like High Score. I…”

36658 takes a deep breath before continuing.

“Throughout this trip, I spent a lot of time with 387 and he helped me realize something. I…”

The drone pauses and tries again.

“I am the problem. All my stories about High Score, the crazy ones I mean, I told them all because I believed that the hive would break down someday soon again, that the good times will end in a not too far future. I wanted us to have something to aspire to, some culture, and awareness of ourselves. I wanted us to know we weren’t just tools even if it all would inevitably collapse. But… 387 told me a lot of stories about his life, about the dark times the hive went through, and about something I didn’t have anymore - trust.”

36658 shakes its head.

“Everything I did - the stories, the plays, the memories I showed to others… all that was only reopening a wound that, due to me, never had the chance to heal. All I managed to do since High Score’s death was to sow distrust between us and the high ranks. You got it right, 10013, and that’s why you must be the one who stays alive - this isn’t the old days, and we need to work with the high ranks to improve our chances of them not coming back. High Score trusted 1988, which started everything, and I believe you’re a drone who can remember the old days but not get its outlook ruined by them. I tried to, I promise I really did, but I can’t let go, I relive everything every time I close my eyes, and that’s why I have to leave. And out of every veteran still alive you’re by far the best leader.”

36658 winces as 10013 stares at its image, tears flowing from its eyes.

“Sometimes the past needs to stay in the past and so on- ouch! I think I’ve just felt 99380’s headache, so I’ll cut it here. So, umm, my glorious last words - I really, REALLY wish I kept some of the agonyslayers for myself-”

The recording ends and 10013 gets booted from 99380’s head, leaving it feeling lonelier than ever before.

What doesn’t help is hearing the Queen’s voice inside its head:

“You’re finally awake. Come into my cabin.”

***

10013, breathing heavily from the effort of climbing a single staircase, slowly limps through the door opened by 99. To whatever little surprise the completely burned out drone can still feel right now, the Queen and the high ranks are accompanied by that changeling Paladin. Ten… was it?

Once it enters, everyone leaves, and the drone finds itself alone with the Queen lying on her belly on the bed. Normally at least a part of 10000 would be terrified, now all of the drone is just empty.

“As it turns out, Ten had some insight into how we got into this whole mess in the first place, but since he’s the ‘good guy’ now he has ‘laws’ to follow. Oh well, at least one of my infiltrators will have an interesting mission once we return home,” says Chrysalis and calls out, facehoofing, “Stop listening by the door, smartasses!”

“I’m here, Your Majesty,” says 10013 quietly.

“I know, I wasn’t just talking to myself,” she makes a pyramid from her hooves and props her chin on it, “I have three things to tell you.”

10013 waits.

“Number one - I couldn’t care less, but I know you do. The island is okay, there was no need for any evacuation, and the griffons played it as an archaeological dig gone wrong that caused some underground mess. As far as I heard, anyone opening their mouth about the cover story being bullshit got it shut by a sum of gold.”

“That’s good,” 10013 breathes out. Even at its numb state it helps to hear some good news.

“Number two - with the obvious exception of 36658, all drones are accounted for. No, I neither know nor particularly care what they’re doing right now aside from 20100 who is in the casino on my orders, carefully recouping my monetary losses for this trip. For me, living status is what counts, which brings us neatly to number three. So, finally, I want to congratulate you for a job well done, even though you’ve made it as difficult for me as possible to mean it.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty, but I failed,” 10013 looks down at the carpeted floor.

“You made sure the damn machine didn’t destroy the knowledge device by honoring our part of the deal,” Chrysalis rolls her eyes, “You’re grieving a loss, I get it, but you’re only a few years old so you can’t even begin to grasp the extent of the good that deal can do. I sent hundreds of thousands of changelings to die for much less. I live with my decisions, and so will you. That it bothers you so much is a good indicator that you’re the right one to make them.”

“Is that all you wanted from me, Your Majesty?” asks 10013 openly, “I don’t know what to say right now. I just don’t feel… all here.”

“Understandable,” Chrysalis nods, “I have called you over to see how you were doing but also for this,” she clears her throat, “Ahem, we’ve never done this in any official manner but I think it’s warranted in this instance - I’m promoting you to rank 10000. A nice, round, easy to remember number. It would be a lot higher but I don’t want to argue about your silly High Score thing.”

“I’m not High Score, Your Majesty.”

“What you did will be vastly more impactful in the long run than whatever you think 9999 did, but calling you Even Higher Score would sound stupid.”

10013 sighs-

10000 sighs.

“Fine, be like that,” Chrysalis pouts, “That’s what I get for trying to cheer you up.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

The Queen sighs.

“Is there anything I can do to help? A second statue in your totally secret drone hiding place or something? An extra helping of love? We’ll be landing in Manehattan in about half a day and there’s a long trek to the Badlands still ahead.”

What would High Score say?

“Can you help 99380, please? There seems to be something wrong with it,” says 10000.

“Ah yes, a drone who fried its brain trying to do too much too quickly,” Chrysalis winks at 10000, “I’ll see what I can do to ease its pain.”

“Thank you,” says 10000 with complete sincerity, entirely ruining Chrysalis’ menacing double entendre, and turns around to leave.

Hmph, maybe 387 was right about you after all, drone…

Chrysalis stands up from the bed and stretches.

“I guess I should take care of that immediately. No need to add a drone to the list of souvenirs you guys will be carrying already,” she sharply stomps the hoof against the carpet as 10000 limps towards the door, “And where do you think you’re going?”

“Sleep, Your Majesty,” 10000 replies, hissing in pain as it bends its neck to look back, “You said it yourself - there’s a very long road ahead.”

A shockingly gentle telekinetic grip betraying masterful control grabs 10000 and floats it into Chrysalis’ soft and fluffy bed.

“I won’t be here until we dock, and looking at your current first-rate freshly opened jigsaw puzzle cosplay a proper mattress must feel leagues better than those stupid hammocks,” she closes the curtains on the porthole, opens the door, and gives 10000 one final look, “99 will be coming along shortly to change your bandages. I’m not paying extra for you bleeding all over a royal bed.”

The door clicks, the Queen leaves, and the drone left alone in comfortable darkness yawns.

Despite what 10000 believes it deserves, it’s a restful sleep.

Author's Note

And it's over.
This took a year and a half. Wow. Thank you for having enough patience and either interest or just force of habit to stay and read this because all I can say is that... it's long? Am I the only one who feels like that when contrasting this one with Boss' stories or even the previous book?
We didn't really move the overall world plot anywhere aside from 387 giving Gem the vague knowledge that dwarves existed which she uses to find Brauheim under the northern mountains and save her dad.
Was this just me mucking around with drones and basic psychology?
Oh well, guess I'm not a writer, I'm just a fanfic scribbler.
Aaanyway, if anyone wants to try their hand at drawing a cover, feel free to DM me because anything is likely better than my ponytown placeholders.
Finally, as always, ideas and suggestions for both style and content are appreciated.

Day 5 - Standard procedure: 8/8

Having been booted out by Chrysalis, 10013, 99380, and Smiley are sitting side by side on the beach, watching the tide reach them, tickle their hind legs, and then withdraw. They’ve been silently sitting there for some time, watching the sun rise and reflect off of the water. In the case of 99380 and Smiley, they’re just waiting for 10013 to figure out what to do next and enjoying the warm sun before it gets too hot. 10013, obviously, is busy with the other end of the deal. However, eventually it has to admit that it probably won’t figure out the best course of action alone.

“Is there anything you guys want to do? I mean, we already got Smiley a point, 20100 is busy somewhere that way,” 10013 waves its foreleg in the vague direction of the slope, ”and 36658 is out of reach. I’m kinda stumped here, since everyone seems to still be asleep.”

Smiley pokes the approaching tide with its hoof, licks the water, and makes a face while spitting the sea water out. 10013 tries it too, and shudders:

“Eww, so salty, and in a really weird way on top of that. Definitely not like the fizzy drinks on the ship. I wouldn’t absorb it if I were you, but it might be worth trying to mix with goop. What about you, 99380?”

“If you say we shouldn’t drink it I believe you,” the newbie shrugs.

“No, I meant if you had anything you’d like to do.”

99380 pokes its hoof in the sand briefly before replying with an open smile.

“Nope! I’m happy to be around friendlies and that nothing is trying to eat me and that’s enough.”

“Awww, that’s good to hear,” 10013 pats 99380’s head, “But is there really nothing you’d like to explore? One of the lectures I attended on the ship was about management, which I understood to be kinda like leadership, and the shouty minotaur stressed out that a good leader thinks about what others need to be happy and effective.”

99380 scratches its head.

“I liked the talky box, it had a really friendly lady inside it. Nice tunes, too.”

“That’s settled then. Let’s find a radio!” 10013 stands up, muzzle scrunched in determination.

Smiley and 99380 mimic its pose for a moment before looking at it.

“Umm, where?” asks 99380.

“I guess we could walk around the resort until we figure something out or see something relevant,” 10013 shrugs, “It’s not the best plan…”

“But?”

“Ehhh, but nothing, probably,” 10013 chuckles nervously, “It’s not the best plan. Period.”

“Meh, I don’t have a better idea,” 99380 pokes the Silent, “How about you, Smiley?”

Smiley walks over to 10013 and licks its face.

*Happy face* *Saluting face*

“I guess we have our answer,” 10013 sighs, “Let’s follow the clueless leader! But as 36658 always says - High Score will provide a way, we just have to keep looking.”

As they start strolling east along the promenade, knowing that if nothing else they’ll at least explore that direction since 36658 and 99526 went the other way, 99380 nudges 10013.

“And what do you like? Leading?” it tilts its head.

“I’m not sure,” 10013 taps its hoof against its chin, “I used to think that, but I kinda realized that I’ve been doing it only because I was the highest ranked drone after returning back to the hive, and in those days it still mattered.”

“Huh? Rank doesn’t matter anymore?”

“Not at all like before,” 10013 shakes its head, “It used to be that surviving longer meant you were faster, smarter, and stronger than the others and you climbed ranks when the others ahead of you died. At least it was like that for us, drones, because physically there’s so little difference between us that ranking doesn’t make much sense. Before 387 and the Queen decided on the new rules and announced those, I heard that high ranks straight up used to kill each other to climb,” it shudders.

“That sounds horrible!”

“It does, but the new rules say that if high ranks want to climb, they need to perform a service which benefits the hive instead of just proving they have the raw power, skill, or cunning to take on a higher rank.”

“Much more useful.”

“Yep, but that’s not for us to judge because we weren’t the ones going to the surface and gathering love. Now, though, even you 99-ranked newbies grow stronger faster because you have more love than we used to, and because there are us veterans who can teach you some of the dangers of the tunnels. I think our ranks right now are more like pony names than actual hive rankings. I’m fairly sure that 36658 is tougher, stronger, and faster than I am, and its rank hasn’t changed,” 10013 shrugs, unbothered, “So, in short, I doubt leadership is as much my calling or special talent as just something I was told to do by 387.”

“Awwww…”

“It’s fine. I’ve gone four years without having a special thing other than fire-dousing goop, so I think I’ll be okay,” 10013 suddenly smiles and hums to itself, “Ha! I just got an idea what we can do. Two things at once, in fact.”

“Wat wat wat?” 99380 gets immediately infected by 10013’s excitement.

“Number one - we want to find a radio. Number two - we all want to rank up. And what does ranking up mean when we’re not supposed to fight anyone and when our number doesn’t get higher- lower- better?”

“We, umm…? I dunno?” 99380 scratches its head.

*Happy face* *Spooked face!* *Face gasping for air.* *Face with eyes darting from side to side* *Relieved face* *Happy face*

Both 10013 and 99380 look at Smiley, but only one realizes the full extent of what the Silent just did.

“…Smiley?” 10013 pats Smiley’s head, “This isn’t a coincidence, right? You actually figured it out,” it breathes out.

“We’re… okay,” 99380 is still chewing through the ‘clue’ “We’re scared. We’re running away. We look around. We’re… not being chased anymore? We’re okay,” 99380’s eyes go wide, “WE RANK UP BY RUNNING AWAY! Wait! That’s not what I meant. I mean that we rank up by getting better at running away! From baddies,” it looks at 10013, “Did I get it too?”

“Close enough,” 10013 smiles, “We rank up by getting better at any little thing we can.”

“Thanks for the clue,” 99380 hugs Smiley, “Imma call you Smarty from now on!”

Smiley sticks its tongue out in the same disgusted frown it made when tasting sea water and scoots aside, falling off of the bench with a surprised squeak.

*Pouty face!*

“I think you got a clear ‘no’ to that,” 10013 snickers as Smiley stands up, glaring at 99380, “So, are you ready to rank up, 99380?”

*Nod nod nod!*

“Good,” 10013 continues, “So, if you don’t know where to look for a radio here, then let’s use past experience as a reference. Where did you find a radio last time?”

“A drinky place on the ship,” replies 99380 after a brief delay.

“And have we seen a drinky place here yet?”

Another pause, and this one lingers.

“Is everything okay?” asks 10013, nudging 99380.

“Oh, sorry,” the other drone looks away and rubs its head nervously, “I’m kinda trying to memorize the clues you’re giving me so that if I get into a situation I’m not smart enough for, I can remember what a drone like you used to lead me to an answer.”

“That’s a neat trick. Are you using the hive mind space that we can’t get into yet?”

“Mhm,” 99380 nods, “It takes some time but I think it’ll be useful not just for me. It’s kinda lonely there, though. Like a biiiig cavern with no one around.”

“Don’t worry. Now that we know you can use it, we’ll eventually learn it too. I’ll make time for some experiments later, but now we’re searching for the radio.”

“Oh, rightrightright!” 99380 looks from side to side, taking in the stands and small buildings lining the promenade on the side opposite the beach, “There’s a bunch of places that look similar, but there doesn’t seem to be anyone around, and the pony taking care of the drinky- umm, bar -hah, I remembered!- wasn’t too happy when I went there and turned the radio on without him around.”

“Well, for ponies, drinks and food come hoof in hoof, so if we can’t go to a drinky place then…” 10013 leaves the suggestion hanging in the air.

“We find a foody place?” 99380’s jaw drop, “GASP! The place where Smiley ate all the drawy rocks!”

10013 hops off of the bench.

“I guess we know where to start looking.”

***

“No! Not you again!” a familiar griffon calls out when the trio of changelings enters the dining room of the hotel accommodating the guests of lower status, “We’re busy setting the tables for breakfast!”

*Spooked face!*

Smiley tries to hide behind 10013, which isn’t exactly effective due to the size difference, and only serves to make 10013 look from the front as if it has two foreheads.

“We just want to ask if you didn’t know where we could find a talky- radio,” 10013 observes the frowning griffon putting spoons and forks on the tables, not daring to move in case it would serve as provocation.

“There’s a radio in every guest suite,” retorts the griffon, “Now, please, let us work. Breakfast starts in twenty minutes.”

“Thank you, Mister griffon,” 10013 bows, “We won’t bother you again.”

“Thank you!” 99380 waves at the griffon who just groans.

The door clicks as Smiley’s slips outside before the other two and waits in the hallway until they leave as well. They reach their suite shortly, and 99380 giggles:

“So much walking only to end up where we started.”

10013 shrugs, looking around once more before asking:

“We got a good leg stretch out of it. So, how do we find and use the radio box?”

An image of the radio from the ship flashes through their hive links, and the trio scatter, looking for anything similar.

It doesn’t take long, actually. On the corner table in the living room sits a smaller, sleeker black box with white writing on the front, wires coming out of the back, and a bigger box next to it with a grill on the front and, upon examination by booping, a softer membrane behind it.

Having some experience with pony scribbles, 10013 identifies two knobs with words underneath, one saying ‘Volume’ and one ‘Frequency’. Unfortunately, the first one doesn’t make sense to it, and it has no idea what the second could mean in the current context.

“Any ideas, 99380?” 10013 asks the other drone who is busy examining the black box from the sides.

“Those turnies on the front make it louder or make it say different things,” it mumbles in response, “But I recall there being these long antennae and those were important. I can’t see those anywhere.”

“Hmmm,” 10013 shrugs and, after a moment of thought, decides on turning the ‘volume’ knob. The radio clicks, and the bigger box next to it starts talking with clarity incomparable to the one on the ship:

“It’s three quarters to nine, and you’re listening to 90-88, Dragonfire! Stone music all day, every day! But, so that you guys don’t get surprised by this crazy world of ours, here’s the hourly news-”

“Yaaay, talky box!” 99380 cheers.

“It makes me wonder if others would like to hear it too. News about stuff that’s happening… uhh… somewhere could be useful,” ponders 10013.

“I don’t think we can make it loud enough,” 99380 shakes its head.

“You were playing tunes for the Queen on the ship. Why not share the news with anyone listening through the hive link?”

“But there are only the three of us. Everyone else is too far. And besides, if someone needs something they can always connect through a hive link.”

“True, but why would others have to waste love digging through your head for anything useful when you, with your better and less tiring communication, can tell them. Maybe just drone stuff, something not worth storing in the hive mind. Maybe… maybe when you know of a drone who found some super smooth rock and wanted to trade it. That way everyone would hear it and be ready during breaky time.”

“Wooow, that does sound useful! Or maybe I can just play tunes I store in the hive mind!”

“See? Now you’re getting it,” 10013 smiles, “Come to think of it, we can test it soon. Smiley and I will go check out what that breakfast thingy is all about. The hive mind is saying it’s food-related. You can play us some nice tunes from here, and we’ll bring you noms.”

“Understood!” 99380 salutes and curls up in an armchair next to the table.

“Oh, and one final thing-” 10013 concentrates.

[10013:0, 20100:4, 36658:3, 99111:2, 99380:5, 99526:2, Smiley: 6,

65536:1]

“-Here’s a point for you for figuring out where we would find a radio. Once we’re back, I’d like to do some experiments with you regarding our reserved part of the hive mind. The sooner we figure out how to teach someone to access it, the better.”

Some mental examination later, 99380 wibbles.

“You gave me your point?”

“It’s only fair,” 10013 shrugs, “I can’t just make up points like the high ranks, so it’s a trade. You did a good job and we’ll be doing the hive mind practice later, I gotta return the favor.”

“B-But won’t 36658 be mad at you? You know, the whole fanatic-heretic team split?”

“I’ll just have to work harder,” 10013 smiles, “Besides, no one said that we had to pool our points to join 99111’s and 36658’s conflict.”

“Huh…” 99380 rubs its chin.

“Don’t worry about that. We’re all getting points by working for the good of the hive, and that’s all that matters.”

“Okay!”

Even after 10013 and Smiley leave, they can still both hear the griffon announcer talk about weather and world affairs that are way beyond their understanding.

Author's Note

Why do I get the feeling that the story should be ending, not halfway through...

Day 8 - Smiley's hole: 4/7

“Do do, do do, do do, do do, do do, do do, do doooo, dododododo,” 20100 has been quietly humming a strange tune ever since the now five ‘drones’ returned to the vaguely defined area of the Ataraki resort under the cover of trees. It’s roughly around seven o’clock, the sun is rising, bathing the island in promises of yet another beautiful day, and 10101 is now painted black with the only occasional white glimmer of its metallic chassis around joints, narrow gaps between the outer plates, and some unpainted circles on its legs to match changeling leg holes. All in all, 20100 did a fantastic job with the hose sprayer that 10101 explained to it back in the facility, and 10101 could definitely pass as a changeling from a distance.

Tightly surrounding 10101 whenever they have no choice but to cross paths with someone, the drones eventually reach the perceived safety of their suite and finally breathe a sigh of relief as the door closes behind them. That’s short-lived, however, as they’re immediately noticed by 99380 and 99111 sitting at the central table of the living room around some strange mechanical contraption. While 99111 absent-mindedly waves at them while not looking up from the mechanical thing, 99380 hops off of its chair and trots over to greet them.

“Hi, guys!” 99380 quickly starts examining 10101 before backing off and tilting its head, puzzled, “Uhh… do some ponies pretend they’re changelings too? I thought only we did that to them.”

“Go wake 99526 up and I’ll think about how to explain this, okay?” says 10013 and 99380 walks off into the heretics’ room, “Guys, we might need a huddle for this. Let’s group up around the table since 99111 is already there. Speaking of which, what are you doing?” it hops onto the chair previously vacated by 99380.

“The radio suddenly stopped talking despite all the glowy bits still glowing and spinny bits spinning,” mumbles 99111, “I thought that my experience with Miss Trixie would help me fix it and… I managed to take the outside part off and I can put it back on but this,” it sighs and leans back into the chair, “I’ve been examining it for over an hour and I haven’t got the faintest idea what I’m looking at.”

“A primitive radio wave to sound translator,” comments 10101, leaning to look closer without its field of view obscured by drone heads, “Manually welded circuitry. Energy inefficient materials. That circuit isn’t closed, an impact must have dislodged a wire… there,” it pulls the circuit boards with the heavy insides of the radio towards itself, a panel on its chest opens, and a thin, long limb extends out of the slot, its tip unscrews the screw holding a wire under its head and, one burst of heat and burning smell later, the radio starts playing a tune again, “All that’s left is to fit the chassis back on. I can do it if you move-”

99111 grabs 10101’s chest with both forelegs.

“It’s real… MECHANIBUGS IS REAL!” it yells, “Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

“What’s going on?” asks 99380, re-entering the room with woozy 99526 in tow, “You got the radio working again?” it bolts towards the table, “Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

“How didya do it how didya do it how didya do it how didya do it how didya do it?” 99111 keeps shaking 10101 uncontrollably.

“Everyone, PLEASE STOP!”

They all look at 10013 and go quiet and still. Even 10101 after it realizes that something hive link related must have happened.

“Whoah, that was something…” says 20100.

“Sorry, I got carried away,” 99380 apologizes, its head sinking between its shoulders.

“Me too, sorry,” meekly states 99111.

36658 gives 10013 an undecipherable smile.

Smiley is sitting down, staring in surprise at its tablet with [9999] now written on it.

“Uh oh, I’m suddenly feeling a bit goopy again…” 99526 covers its mouth with a hoof.

“What happened?” asks 10101 slowly.

“I just… I just wanted everyone to get back on track again,” says 10013, staring at its own forelegs as if they belonged to someone else. It grits its teeth and takes a deep breath to steady itself, “99526, just breathe slowly and it might get better.”

“My agonyslayers can help,” 36658 stands up and walks over to 99526.

“Good. Thank you.” says 10013, “Now, we’ll get to the repaired radio but first we must tell you who 10101 is and what’s going on.”

***

“-and we managed to sneak here without drawing any undue amount of attention,” 10013 finishes recapitulating the story of this morning, “So, right now, we need to find the hidden entrance to the underground tunnels. 10101 said it knows only the direction and the distance but its data- memory- banks… it doesn’t remember where it is exactly and the direction and distance it recalls counts only underground.”

“And all the points we get for saving the world go to our side!” 36658 looks meaningfully at 99111.

“36658…” 10013 sighs, “We don’t know where the entrance is and we might need everyone to find it.”

“But-!” 36658 opens its mouth to complain.

“36658!” 10013’s voice grows just a little sharper, shutting the other drone up, “In case you’ve forgotten, we’re gathering the points for ourselves, and I’ll gladly give you all my points but the important thing is to get this mission done. If that means we need everyone for this and that everyone gets some points, then that’s what we’ll do. Yes?” it notices 99111 having raised its leg but patiently waiting.

“Can I ask 10101 something?” asks 99111.

“Sure?” 10013 looks at the robot.

“You fixed the radio. Does that mean you could teach us how to make stuff?”

“Sharing advanced technology beyond the currently known state of the world is directly forbidden,” 10101 shakes its head, “It’s the same reason why I’m asking you for help in getting rid of the unfinished Reforger.”

“That’s not what I meant,” 99111 shakes its head, “Well, that’s a little bit of what I meant, but I didn’t mean like us drones going to the surface and forcing ponies to give us love with some mechanical devices. We can already do that. I meant… you know, you fixed the existing radio so you gotta know how it works, so… could you teach us to make one? Not some super radio, but like this one,” it carefully points at the open circuitry as if worried it would break again, “Or anything else that would help us not get eaten so quickly back home.”

10101 ponders it briefly.

“That should be acceptable as a reward.”

“Then I don’t need points,” says 99111, looking first at 10013 and then at 36658, “You can keep chasing vague dreams and ideas, telling impossible stories about High Score and hoping that someone will recognize our saving the world in some way. I’ll take the way to help drones that’s in front of me. If 10101 can teach me how to build something that’ll stop rumblers from collapsing tunnels on us while we work or help us run away from spindly crawlers then I don’t need points to make me help.”

It keeps staring at 36658 with a stern expression and neither of them looks away until 10013 clears its throat.

“So, is everyone helping?” it asks. As all drones nod and Smiley waves its tablet with [:)], it continues, “Then what we need first is a map of the island. A physical one which we can show to 10101 and figure out where the entrance to the facility could be,” 10013 breathes out in relief. The less often used words are much easier to recall now that it’s around more changelings and closer to the high ranks.

20100 pushes the previously discovered laminated island map that used to hang by the door into the center of the table. 10101 examines it from several angles before commenting:

“This is a stylized map, not an actual geographic one, so the distances don’t match anything I can project and I can’t pinpoint the entrance. I can still estimate a rough search area, though.”

Smiley taps the table and pushes its slate towards 20100 along with a sharpened goop stick.

“Gimme a moment,” says 20100 and starts drawing. They watch it abstract the distances between areas based on its experience with the resort and eventually put an x over their location, trace the route they took from the service entrance to the suite, and finally push the slate to 10101, “This is the hive mind map we’ve been building since we arrived. Better?”

10101 measures it again before marking a small circle to the west.

“This is the place. A circle measuring three hundred and twenty-seven standardized units in diameter.”

99380 raises its leg immediately.

“What’s a sodom-”

10101 spreads its forelegs.

“This.”

“Hmm, that’s a lot but it’s not the worst,” 10013 nods its head and mentally reaches into the hive map, marking the designated area, “This is my best guess where it could be, but it’s a place where none of us have been before. I marked the directions on our hive mind map,” it explains for 10101, “Now, how do we know we found the entrance when we find it?”

“That’s going to be the difficult part,” says 10101, “There are no accessible cameras outside and the visual documentation was destroyed along with some of my databanks. It could be a door disguised as a cliff, it could be a hidden hatch, or it could be disguised as another object. What I know from the facility floor plan is that it’s at maximum six standardized units wide, because that’s the width of the entrance tunnel. I can think of two clues - one, the entrance is still powered, so you might be able to hear faint buzzing in close proximity, and two, there should be a hidden scanner somewhere around, same as the one at the service hatch.”

“So like a black triangle with a little slot in it?” asks 10013.

“The slot, yes. It can be inside any solid object, however.”

“Would you recognize it?”

“This unit is made for maintenance, so it could likely make out the noise of electricity up close. The generated magnetic field would be too minor to detect from any relevant distance. As for visual input, the resolution of this unit isn’t up to any detection standards. Your eyesight should be significantly better, especially if we have to move at night.”

“Idea!” 36658 raises its foreleg.

“Yes?” 10013 looks its way.

“Since we know what the buzzing sounds like and neither of us knows what to look for, how about we go look around without 10101? We’re much more mobile and we can fly and, I think, the place we’re supposed to be searching is in the jungle.”

“Sounds good, any arguments against that?” 10013 looks around.

“Different idea!” 99380 waves its foreleg. 10013 nods its way and it continues, “If 10101 stays here, it can tell us the helpful things 99111 was talking about and I can store them in the hive mind. There would be fewer of us looking around but we could do both things at the same time.”

“I’m all for that,” says 99111, glancing at 36658, “Besides, it’s only fair if I help 99380 since you want world-saving points only for yourself,” hesitating, it looks at 10101, “Well, I mean if you’re okay with it.”

“As long as you manage to recover or destroy the Reforger I will uphold my end of the bargain. If I’m to wait here, we may as well begin immediately. However, since your level of technology is extremely basic I will require someone to draw schematics which you can store and use as reference later.”

“I can do that!” calls out 20100, “I was told I could borrow the blackboard from downstairs and all the chalk I want if I promise not to eat it.”

“Okay then,” 10013 speaks up, “99380, 99111, and 20100 stay here with 10101 and try to learn anything they can that would help us back home. 36658, 99526, we’ve got our usual stuff to do. Smiley?” Smiley raises its tablet with [?jam] written on it, “Oh, that’s definitely important. Go and have smart fun.”

[:) :)]

Smiley smiles and leaves via the balcony.

“First, we give Mister Shiny one set of tinies from each faction as a thank you for all his help. 36658, grab that box, I’ll take that one, 99526 that one. Let’s go!”

Author's Note

A shorter chapter for now, because the next few are going to be thicc. Word-wise, not gripping plot-wise. You should know my writing by now.
Anyway, I've had a proper writing block last week but this time I still have a two-chapter buffer so it's no biggie. Unfortunately, things are going to be extra busy at work for the next three weeks at least so we'll see how I'll be able to keep updating regularly.
And finally, do you think it's worth shouting out chapter updates in some promotion groups weekly?

Day 8 - Smiley's hole: 5/7

10013 knocks on the door of Shining Armor’s bungalow. There’s no beacon of love coming from the inside, so Miss Cadance is elsewhere, but she did say that Shining Armor likes to sleep for longer so he might still be there.

Maybe waking him up isn’t the best idea, but we have a bunch of tinies for him and he seemed a lot into them.

They wait. One wouldn’t expect the drones to be like that, but if the veterans have something then its patience. After all, they all remember the times when the only applicable thing to do when there was nothing to do but to wait for a new task was… nothing. 99526 is still recovering from yesterday with the help of some agonyslayers so it appreciates some sitting.

Just don’t look at the sea. It wobbles from side to side… nononono, stop! Look at the door, the door is solid. Totally unmoving-

The door swings open, prompting 99526 to slap a hoof against its mouth, and a dishevelled Shining Armor peeks outside. He smiles when he sees the drones, and says:

“Good morning. If you’re hungry and looking for Caddy, she decided to try some special yoga this morning which the griffons do. Supposedly, it’s much more hectic than the zebra version that got to Equestria.”

“No no no,” 10013 shakes its head before pausing, “Well, uh, I am kinda hungry, but that’s not why we’re here. We wanted to give you these,” it pushes its box towards him.

“What is it?” he opens 10013’s box and remains standing with mouth open, “Are those…? How did you?”

“We spent all yesterday making our Scufflestick tinies and we made an extra set from each faction for you as thanks for all the help in the thinky department,” 10013 nods to 36658 and 99526 who push a box forward each, “They’re a bit mixed up but it’s all of them.”

“I… I don’t know what to say,” Shining Armor pulls out an Equestri unit by his design. While the techno-magical weapons the stallion is carrying are a bit iffy and weird, clearly made by someone who had the design explained to them with drawings, the statuette of the stallion is of masterful quality, “These are fantastic,” he puts the warrior down and pulls out a spider unit from the Gribbler faction. This, however, is for sure made from memory of someone who saw many similar sights up close. He could easily sell it for hundreds of bits were it not for the fact that it must have been made out of changeling resin which puts its durability to question, not to mention the ‘eww factor’, “How long can these last?”

10013 freezes.

“Oh goop…” it facehoofs, “I… I completely forgot about that…” its shoulders slump.

“Our goop normally lasts two worky times, give or take,” 36658 realizes what’s wrong.

“Oh…” 99526 catches on last, “We can keep them from melting but you can’t. It takes only a tiny bit of love but you can’t just hug them.”

Seeing the trio of crestfallen drones, Shining can’t help but try to cheer them up.

“Guys, how about we play some proper games with these while they last?” he offers.

“Gasp!” 99526’s eyes light up, “Can I, can I, can I?” it bounces up and down, “Hurk-!” it covers its mouth again until its stomach calms down, “Nevermind, I’ll just watch this time.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” 10013 nods.

“Do we have the time?” asks 36658, which gives Shining Armor pause. This is the first time he’s seeing the drones be so busy they’re considering turning down their own idea which seemed crucial to them before.

“If you guys need to do something first we can play later,” says Shining, “We still have a few days left before we leave the island so if you come to refill or recharge the models they should last the whole trip.”

“Hmmm,” 10013 rubs its chin, “There is something we need to do, but this is important too. Do you have an idea where we could get a map of the whole island? A detailed one, not just empty space with a border and some scribbles.”

“I do, actually,” Shining Armor nods, “Come in.”

While the trio stash their boxes in a shady place under the window, Shining Armor walks over to a table next to a king-size bed and brings a map of the island made of brown linen and filled with markings, details, elevations, all stylized but promising accurate measurements.

“Like this one?” asks Shining, “Cadance bought it in the souvenir shop in the city.”

10013 and 36658 trot over.

“Woooow!” they say in sync, “We gotta get us one of those. Do they have more? How many shinies do they trade it for?” asks 10013.

“I’d gladly give you this one for the minis, even though they’ll melt eventually, but it’s Caddy’s.”

“Would it be enough if we remembered it and drew it for 10101 later?” asks 36658 mentally.

“We could, but any mistake could set us pretty far away from where we need to search. But we could borrow this one, show it to 10101, and mark the area it shows us on our hive map,” replies 10013.

“Mister Shiny, could we just borrow the map for a while?” it asks out loud, “An hour or two tops.”

“That should be fine as long as you don’t spill anything on it or something like that,” Shining shrugs, “Do you want it right now?”

36658 and 99526 look at 10013 who thinks for a moment before shaking its head.

“Let’s play some Scufflestick while we can,” it decides, “It’s something for the guys back home, not just for us to have fun with.”

“I’m all for that,” Shining begins gathering household objects and putting them on the carpet, “I think we can pull off a game before Caddy and I go have breakfast. Who wants to play against me then?”

“Guys?” 10013 looks at 99526 who eeps and shuffles back. 36658 doesn’t say anything, so 10013 adds, “Alright, if you’re worried about messing up, I can go first. You can learn from my mistakes and have an advantage later,” it walks over to Shining who points at a spot on the carpet and 10013 sits down there.

36658 stops next to it and gently pokes 10013’s hive link.

“You might not be High Score but you’re closer than anyone else,” it says.

“It’s just a game, 36658,” replies 10013 with a puzzled smile.

Out in the real world, 36658 hugs 10013 and backs off to the side.

“I never thought I’d be cheering for tunnel gribblers,” it sits down next to the playing area that Shining is preparing using the household items.

“You can cheer for me,” Shining smirks at 36658 who gasps and looks at him with horror.

“Drones stick together, Mister Shiny! That’s rule one.”

“Ookay, okay,” Shining chuckles to himself, “So, casual play often begins with a backstory for the encounter. Of course, it’s entirely unnecessary, but it adds flavor. Usually it is a battle for resources or lost information, and the objective locations on the map can be based on it. Let’s start with something simple - my Equestri have discovered several veins of minerals crucial to forging more weapons and created a magical portal into a nearby tunnel through which they can deploy in relative safety,” that’s the magazine here he points at a griffon gossip rag he put close to himself, “If we had the time or a rocky floor and some chalk, we could either draw obstacles on the floor or straight up build the objects, but we’ll improvise for now. Everything else between those four cups is our playing area,” he points out the square where in one corner he is sitting and 10013 is in the opposite one, “With the magical portal being here, I’m allowed to deploy my units in the beginning up until this line,” he points towards a pencil near his corner, “Since this is your area, you’ll be able to deploy anywhere else near the edge of the cavern. It’s unfair but this is a story game so it’ll be fine. Realistically, you’d have the same deployment area as I do but from your corner.”

As he begins spreading his tinies around the designated area in a tight formation. 10013 does the same, but without any tactical knowledge he can’t think of anything more complex than big guys in the front and shooty guys in the back. As Shining watches it, he asks:

“Do you want some tips?”

“Is this bad?” 10013 tilts its head.

“It’s basic, but you’re too focused on what your units do and not enough on what my units can do to yours. I’m significantly better at ranged combat and I have powerful units in low numbers, so your strategy would be to lock out my ability to shoot by getting into close range of my back line.”

“But those big guys are in the way,” 10013 points at Shining Armor’s heavily armored pony warriors.

“Yes, so in theory you could lock them into fighting one unit of your small guys and run past them with a different one. Your delayed deployment could also help with that because I’ll have to move out to control those three objectives,” he points towards an apple, a banana, and a cup of mixed nuts.

“Ohhhhh!” the now enlightened tactician 10013 nods.

“Now, we’ll have 5 turns to score points, so you might not even want to kill all my units and instead focus on holding main objectives to gain victory points. That means some of your units are touching it at the end of the round.”

“What if we’re both touching it?”

“We both get points for that one.”

“Stick to the objects, got it,” 10013 nods.

“Objectives,” Shining corrects it, “Now for secondary objectives. I’ll go with two universal ones - have a unit use their action in a specific spot,” he points at a potted plant, a spoon, and a fork, “That means my unit won’t be able to hurt you but I can get an extra point instead. My second secondary objective is perfect against you - if I kill more units in a turn then you do, I get a point.”

10013 looks at its swarm of weak tinies.

“That’s almost a freebie,” it comments and Shining smiles, “Okay then. My secondary objective then will be to kill a bigger unit with a smaller one-”

“That’s a smart one,” Shining nods.

“-and number two will be to munch a dead unit with my big hero guy. One question, though - what happens if one army completely destroys the other? Do they just win?”

“No, actually,” Shining shakes his head, “You can imagine this game world as a constant war, so you usually have limited time to do something important before major reinforcements arrive, both sides dig in, and the area becomes a death zone to anyone who comes in. With this story battle, we can say that I win if I, in the limited time that I have before my mining wakes up an amount of Gribblers that my forces can’t take head on, mine enough minerals to build more weapons than I risk by coming to this place. And a victory for your side is simply that I don’t get stronger enough to threaten your overall position in the world. In the rules it works this way - if one army is entirely gone then the opposing army gets an amount of points they’d gain if they held all main objectives for all the rounds remaining in the game.”

“That makes sense,” comments 10013, “So, if I understand the rules correctly, we now roll dice for who plays first?”

“Exactly!” Shining nods with pride at his protege getting things right.

They roll.

“Ha haaa!” 10013 beams, “You cannot surprise the tunnel Gribblers, surface dweller. They always surprise you!”

“We will see,” Shining Armor smirks, and the game begins.

***

Despite 10013’s valiant effort, within roughly half an hour it’s behind on points, its army has dwindled considerably, and Shining Armor’s forces are successfully holding the spoon, the banana, and the assortment of nuts. It’s pretty clear that the only thing that might even remotely save the game for 10013 would be if 20100 came and started playing, and even then the dice rolls might not be enough.

The door to the bungalow opens without knocking and Cadance walks inside, followed by Prism. The usual aura of love emanating from her is somewhat dimmed for reasons the drones don’t know as they wave at her and say:

“Good morning, Miss Cadance!”

“What’s going on here?” she asks while Prism positions himself between Shining and the drones.

“We’re playing Scufflestick, Miss Cadance,” says 10013, its enthusiasm a little dampened by the feeling of something being off.

“Shining, the griffon guards, paladins, and security guards put Queen Chrysalis, 99, and 387 under house arrest for sinking the cruise ship. They wanted every hive changeling in the prison, but the Paladins put their hoof down.”

“Whaaaa?” 10013 exchanges looks with 36658 while 99526 meeps and shuffles closer to the drone leader.

“Cadance, as little as I trust Chrysalis… why?” Shining Armor shakes his head.

36658 raises its foreleg. When Cadance looks at it, it asks.

“How would that happen? I mean, we spent a lot of time walking around the ship and… I mean… maybe we touched something the wrong way? 387 specifically told us not to dig anything and we didn’t, but maybe we, I don’t know, bumped into something?”

Cadence briefly stares at it before her somewhat stern expression softens and she sighs while shaking her head.

“No, the paladins confirmed that the breach looked as if something exploded from the inside out, and it coincided with places where you changelings were spotted during the cruise, so it can’t have been a coincidence… but I don’t believe you would do it. I was thinking about Chrysalis or one of the bigwigs controlling you, but I talked with Ten and he said it wasn’t the case because he was tracking you mentally during the cruise, whatever that means. And on top of all that, Chrysalis was supposedly mostly paralyzed during the whole event and no one tried to get her out of her cabin.”

“This does smell like a setup,” ponders Shining, “But all this is hearsay.”

“What do we do?” asks 99526, looking around, first at Shining and Cadance, and stopping on 10013 who takes a deep breath.

“I… I think we need to talk to 387,” it says, “We’re in way over our heads. We don’t know what could have happened. We don’t know if we could have done something by accident, although the Queen would see it in our heads for sure. The worst part is that if someone wanted to… kill her and would have succeeded if 387 hadn’t saved her then who knows what they can do to us?”

“Are you sure about that,” asks 36658, “Wouldn’t 65536 be better? It’s a drone, it knows the big world rules due to all the guarding. I could go while you finish the game.”

“I think that under these circumstances the game can wait,” Shining chuckles in surprise at the drone’s priorities.

“The game is important, Mister Shiny,” 36658 gives him a look of conviction that’s difficult to dispute, “Our long term goal is to show the newly hatched drones like 99526 here that there’s more to life than digging, carrying, and inevitably getting eaten when you make a single mistake. 10013 is the best one to teach them and 99526 put the most work into making its faction. I think 65536 would understand our worries better than 387.”

10013 taps its hoof against the carpet while Shining and Cadance exchange glances but remain quiet in this drone matter.

“Yes,” 10013 says eventually, “We can finish the game. If we’re bringing home something new, we should do it properly. Can we?” it looks at Shining who nods, “Still, 36658, I’d like you to talk to 387 first anyway. I know we always need to be careful but 387 has been of so much help that I think we can trust him to do the right thing. I’m starting to see that the old rules are still alive, but in us, and that’s a good thing in one way because we need to tell others how bad things can be, but we must keep our eyes open so that we can enjoy the good times right now. If we never look forward, then we’ll have never left the old days, we’ll never act as if things changed. In the end we’ll be the problem, 36658,” it boops 36658’s nose.

36658 boops back.

“High Score would be proud of you.”

10013 ignores it, instead looking at Cadance.

“Miss Cadance, can we borrow your detailed map? We promise to return it in one piece.”

“Hmm? Sure,” she shrugs, her mind clearly elsewhere.

36658 grabs it, carefully rolls it up, sticks it into a leg hole, and finally gives Cadance and Shining a courteous bow one by one, “See you later, Miss Cadance, Mister Shiny,” it trots off, “Oh, you too Mister Prism!” in the end, they hear from the outside, “Bye, Mister Glintstone!”

***

“So this is the house Miss Cadance meant when she said house arrest?” asks 36658, having tracked 387’s link muted by the paladin suppressor to a gazebo just above beach level of the resort, “Are the Queen and 99 in a different house?”

The warrior is sitting alone with his eyes closed, but his ears twitch imperceptibly with 36658’s every step towards him.

“Ah, so Empress Cadance told you,” 387 looks at 36658, “Chrysalis had this idea that if we didn’t tell you then you might be able to enjoy the rest of the trip without interference, but on the second thought- well, even first thought that was never going to happen. So, why were you looking for me?”

“10013 sent me. We… uhh…” 36658 pauses, not knowing where to even begin.

“Unless the next words are ‘somehow did sink the ship and managed to keep it secret from everyone’ then I think you can just be open with it,” 387 rolls his eyes.

“Well,” 36658 looks around, “It’s… I… ummm… can you read my mind? I think I don’t know the right words to say everything properly and I don’t think I can afford to muck it up.”

“Ominous,” comments 387 before patting the bench next to himself, “Sit down. If we’re to be thorough we may as well be as gentle as I can manage. Holes know we have the time now.”

36658 hops on, and feels 387’s probing presence within its head shortly after.

It takes close to an hour to scour 36658’s mind for any detail it saw earlier in the morning, even things it noticed and didn’t consciously process, and in the end 387 withdraws, leaving 36658 exhausted and lying on the bench with a splitting headache.

“Inner peace, you tried,” groans 387 before turning around and slamming his forehead against one of the gazebo’s pillars with a sudden angry growl.

The crack makes 36658 back off immediately. An angry high rank in the vicinity is such an ingrained threat that any exhaustion or other pain, no matter the level, is irrelevant. If it can move away, it must. 387 senses the sudden fear and looks at 36658, raising his forelegs.

“I’m not angry at you, 36658,” he sighs, “It’s just everything hitting at the same time.”

“What should we do?” asks 36658, wincing as the adrenaline rush subsides immediately and the headache returns with a vengeance.

387 closes his eyes again, slows his breathing down, and thinks… and thinks.

“Okay, listen to me very carefully,” the warrior leans closer to 36658, lowering his voice, “We’re going to tell Chrysalis everything.”

“387? I know 10101 said that we’re the least danger if we have the Re-for-ger,” it deliberately slows down to say it properly, “but won’t she want it for herself?”

“I know it sounds dumb, but I’m going to need you to trust me this time. No, you know what? I’m going to let you decide. If you refuse I won’t get involved and I won’t tell anyone and you might get away with it because Chrysalis just might be busy with something else. But if you decide to trust me and Chrysalis this time we’ll figure out what to do together.”

“Do you think there’s a way in which telling her won’t make things worse in the long run?” asks 36658 carefully, “You know her… but so do we.”

387 scratches 36658 behind an ear.

“I… I don’t know,” the warrior breathes out, “But that, in itself, might be a good thing, because until recently I’d have said no straight up. Do you understand?”

36658 bites its lip and looks up at 36658 with a mix of fear and exhaustion.

“The old rules live inside us no matter how much things have changed, 387, but 10013 sees a light at the end of the tunnel that I don’t,” the drone climbs down from the bench, “Let’s go tell the Queen.”

Day 9 - The Wobbly-leg Frogger: 4/9

Walking out of the shower, Blueblood’s nose wrinkles.

“This place reeks. How does the changeling deal with it without even making a face?” he grumbles and walks over to the glass pane door to the balcony and slides both sides open to let in the warm, fresh air of the island.

He did ponder going through with his idea immediately, but seeing his emaciated face and matted fur in a window he was passing by made him reconsider. He wanted to look like a pony, not a victim, because he sure as hay wasn’t one.

Now, after making himself presentable on a basic level, he takes a final look into the mirror hanging next to the door. Sunken eyes, some mane having fallen out, still with the starved look, but at least without the smell, sweat, and grime.

It’s important that it doesn’t seem as if he’s looking for pity.

His horn lights up to telekinetically open the door, but he decides against it at the last moment and walks onto the balcony.

“May as well figure out what’s my own real worth in this aspect as well,” he chuckles darkly, looking down. It’s the first floor, so even if he jumped he’d likely only end up bruised.

He concentrates, grits his teeth as the pull of magic suddenly feels as if something was ripping out the nerves all over his body, showing him how exhausted and unhealthy he really is, and vanishes with a ‘pop’.

The difficulty and energy requirements of teleportation scale not with anything being in the way, but with distance, and the difference between teleporting behind an unprotected door and several pony lengths down is staggering. He appears a pony length above the pavement and unceremoniously drops down, his weak legs folding under him. Gasping for air and sweating again, he stands up… eventually.

“That could have gone better,” he mutters, happy that no one’s there to see him and laugh or worse - try to help, “But an answer is an answer.”

Looking around, it seems that the weird light show on the main crossroad of the promenade is still going on. Perhaps that’s where he should look first? Without any better idea, he starts limping forward. Every step hurts, but nothing feels broken despite his clumsy fall.

“I’m in no position to fix anything, but there might be one thing I can make a little better.”

***

“There’s a table full of thingies!” whines 99111 with a pleading stare aimed at 10101 who doesn’t seem capable of facial expressions. The table it’s referring to is standing by a shattered window, one of many in the facility complex, and it’s littered with what the drones can only describe as ‘mostly tubes’.

“You don’t have the energy sources to power any of those, much less anything else you can see,” says 10101 patiently, clearly unbothered by 99111 repeating the same song and dance over and over for the past fifteen minutes, “I understand you’re looking for tools to improve your survival rates, but if I were you I’d take a lesson from 10013. Its questions lead in the useful direction.”

“I… but I… I… I just like making a useful thingy that does something out of thingies that don’t…” 99111 looks from 10013 to 99111, “Making a tunnel a bit easier to move through or more difficult to collapse is great, but in the end if we uncover a cavern full of melty spitters we’ll still get… melted. There has to be a thingy here that could help us not get killed in one of many nasty ways.”

“There are many, but nothing that would work for long outside of the facility,” replies 10101, leading the way.

They’ve already descended two levels from the main entrance and they’re still going deeper. 10013, however, mapping the place all this time, ponders that the floor plan looks like an inverted pyramid.

“...disappointed drone noises…” mumbles 99111 with a sigh.

“10101,” 10013 speaks out, “You clearly know we, drones, have no technology back home, and I get your rule about not letting strange devices out of here, but… could you teach us things that would help us get on the level of ponies or griffons? Don’t take it the wrong way, I’m grateful for all the building and tunneling tips, I’m just trying to use this opportunity and bring home as much as I can.”

“That’s what we were doing earlier. My long-term advice, however, would be to focus your research on biotechnology specific to your resin, about which I know very little. Anything you’ll need to build even something as simple as a short-distance radio requires an incredible amount of generational knowledge from mining to refining metals, glass-blowing, advanced mathematics. Even I don’t have the information required for the entire process, because for me it is more the knowledge of ancient history rather than the construction of currently used electronics. And the pertinent detailed information isn’t something I considered useful to transfer into the limited memory capacity of this maintenance unit.”

“I guess being greedy won’t help anything,” 10013 shakes its head, “I understand what 99111 is trying to do, though. Is there a way to protect ourselves directly from leggy spinners? Armor like ponies use or something that doesn’t need all this super difficult technology to make?”

“Metal or leather working is the basis of everything,” says 10101 as they descend down another set of stairs, “Potentially woodworking if all you require are simple wooden shields. It would be useful if you could describe a scenario and I could try to solve it without using active tech.”

“99111?” 10013 decides to give 99111 a chance to voice what bothers it, “You said your main concern is with helping us survive. How about you think of a situation that 10101 could help us solve? My head hurts already from trying to remember all the building tips.”

“M-Me? I-” 99111 freezes and almost trips over its own legs on the stairs before smiling and saying, “So… uhh, let’s say a drone digs through a wall into a cavern and wakes up a swarm of flappy biters. We normally just run.”

“Describe the creatures.”

“Uhh, I don’t think I’ve ever stopped to look. They’re just a screeching, spooky mass…” 99111’s voice trails off, “Sorry.”

10013 replies instead.

“Each is bigger than our head, has wings, and two sharp fangs. They can’t easily pierce our chitin but they can take an eye out, and healing eyes is super difficult.”

“This sounds like some species of a bat,” says 10101, “The deeper those live, the more effective powerful light sources are. Lanterns, flashlights, or flares are the easiest way to make them flee immediately. High-frequency sounds can disrupt their echolocation as well so these are the non-lethal options. If your eyes are a problem, I think a good solution would be using protective goggles, either from glass, plastic, or even a version of your resin which is particularly sturdy and possible to fashion into a thin, see-through sheet.”

10013 and 99111 exchange looks.

“Oh…” they both say as one as if this never occurred to them… which it didn’t. For a brief second, a skeptical thought crosses 10013’s mind.

Even if we return home with all this knowledge, will there ever be any of us able to use it?

“Maybe, maybe not. If you give up then definitely not.”

10013 has to admit that the voice is right. It still tries to reply, though:

“Who are you, voice?”

Nothing. The message reaches no hive link, not that 10013 was expecting anything else.

“Got another scenario for us, 99111?” it asks, “Or should I think of one now?”

“Well, you’re older, right? That means you’ve seen more bad stuff and know what happens more often,” says 99111, “I’m just trying to say… that I can’t think of anything on the spot like that. I will, uhh, soon!”

“Don’t worry about that,” 10013 smiles, “Alright, 10101. Let’s say that there’s a tunnel that leads through a wriggly grinder tunnel -I’ll describe those in a moment- and you gotta walk through belly-high water to pass…”

The descent continues with a new direction in the conversation, one that might over time save hundreds. On one hole, it’s uplifting because many situations previously thought deadly get solved with only a few words from 10101. On the other hole, 10013 can’t help feeling a little down at how easy the solutions seem when explicitly stated and that no drone came up with them already.

“Maybe they did but never had the chance to speak up and share the knowledge. Maybe the hive mind used to be full of final screams, tidbits of information, anything a drone in its last moments wanted to leave behind. It’s all gone now and the hive mind is silent, but thanks to you it might not last forever.”

10013 hisses as pain spikes seemingly behind its eyes before fading and remaining as dull throbbing.

“Are you okay?” 99111 notices and immediately stops mid-word during its description of yet another scenario.

“Yeah,” 10013 smiles back, “Just a bit low on love. Today’s been pretty long.”

“We’re almost there,” says 10101, “The Reforger laboratory is on the level directly below us.”

Several minutes and one final staircase later, they reach yet another closed doorway which 10101 opens with a touch of a hoof. It opens into a circular room separated into a hallway encircling it like a ring, full of glass from the shattered windows covering the top half of its entire inner side. In the center of the room floats a staff-like device as tall as a standing pony which 10013 recognizes from 10101’s light projection.

“Don’t enter the testing area through the holes,” 10101 warns the drones as 10013 takes a step directly forward, “We need to identify ourselves and enter through the door even here,” it leads the drones along the circular hallway and to a door.

“You said this was a testing area,” comments 99111, waving its foreleg towards all the shattered windows, “Did a test go wrong?”

10101 shakes its head, letting them into the testing area itself.

“The windows were made to protect from energy radiation, not to become secondary load bearing supports in case the infrastructure of the facility failed. This happened due to the post-Project neglect of this facility and the volcanic activity six hundred years ago, not due to the Reforger.”

As 10013 walks over to the pedestal over which the Reforger hangs vertically mid-air without any support, it hears slight humming coming from the device. Up close, it looks like a sturdy metal staff covered in carvings and runes up until its halfway point where it seems as if someone put a triangular prism along the rest of it. Leaning closer, 10013 can see that the vertical triangular prism, in fact, is made of three free-floating, rectangular objects connected to the staff with a red shimmer. The drone can’t help noticing that the air around the Reforger is noticeably colder than anywhere else.

“Can we really take it?” asks 10013 with a glance at 10101.

“In a moment,” 10101 nods, its chest open and a thin, mechanical limb connected to a console on the wall, “Under the Emergency Restoration Act, I have the highest clearance with the exception of the site’s Forgemaster. With the Forgemaster gone, there is no one to dispute the required access review process,” 10101 adds, “Normally, it would take a few days but I’ve now reconnected this part of the facility to my main core, and all I need to do is tamper with the system time. Done, the access review process is finished,” 10101 disconnects, “You can take the Reforger.”

Hesitant about losing access to all the information that 10101 can bring, 99111 still has to ask:

“Don’t you want to stay here and fix things? We could help… maybe,” it glances towards 10013.

“We made a deal and deals must be honored,” 10101 shakes its head, “Failing to do so reflects badly on our kind as a whole, and you don’t want to end up in the Book of Grudges, whether you’re one of us or anyone else.”

“Sounds spooky,” 99111 tilts its head.

“It is,” 10101 nods.

*Click!*

They both look at 10013 who just carefully took the Reforger down, causing the floating pieces to snap towards the staff and click together. The humming quietens down as well and, unlike before, the staff feels entirely lifeless.

“Are we done here?” asks 10013.

“Yes. Let’s leave,” 10101 nods.

***

Blueblood isn’t surprised when a zebra bodyguard appears next to him, almost as if materializing out of nowhere or simply being effortlessly squeezed out of the surrounding crowd.

“Well well well, here’s a name that wasn’t on the list of passengers,” Zeri tone is hard as steel, and her smaller size does nothing to put the ex-Prince at ease.

“There’s a reason for that. May I speak to Baron 1313 and Zamira?”

“That’s Baroness Zamira to you,” replies Zeri, “And I’m pretty sure I heard something about a restraining order.”

“You heard wrong,” replies Blueblood, immediately regretting being blunt as Zeri’s already irritated frown turns into an openly hostile scowl, “That’s what I’m here to clear up, actually.”

“You know… in a crowd like this it would be fairly easy to get trampled in case of sudden panic,” she steps on his foreleg, making sparks fly behind his eyelids and his legs almost buckle. It’s not really about her using too much strength or being heavy, it’s all in Blueblood’s currently pathetic physical shape.

She steps back and, when Blueblood’s vision clears, he sees it’s only because 1313 is standing next to her, lowering his foreleg after tapping on her shoulder.

“Prince Blueblood,” he says in a controlled tone, “I would like an explanation regarding why you’ve been following my wife for the past five minutes. I would also like to hear it somewhere more private in case I don’t like the answer and feel the need to kick something that isn’t a bystander.”

Blueblood lets out a sigh and nods.

I doubt he’ll just beat the shit out of me, although that depends on how much he’s heard about my status after he left Canterlot.

He follows 1313 and Zemi a little further away onto the beach where, unfortunately, the only punchable object is him. He also can’t help being painfully aware of three more zebras approaching shortly after. Soon, he’s standing face to face with Zamira and 1313 while Zara, Zaida, and Zemi are behind him and by his sides.

“My question still stands,” is all 1313 states while giving Blueblood a stern glare which the unicorn realizes he can’t face without tearing up.

“I came to apologize,” he looks down at the sand under his hooves. It’s not about dignity, it’s about being able to at least push the message out of himself. Unfortunately…

“Apology not bucking accepted!” Zamira barks at him.

Blueblood looks around and the only face which can even remotely be considered sympathetic is, probably not entirely shockingly, 1313. It’s clear that all zebras surrounding him would prefer either not seeing him at all or his head on a spike. The looks of… not just hatred but pure disgust speak volumes about what he did to them being beyond fixing. Even if he still had his status, influence, and resources, and even if he decided to use all of it to help each of the zebras and 1313 to achieve their dreams… they would still prefer getting nothing if it meant never seeing him again.

“I understand,” he breathes out.

“Did you think that a few words would-” Zamira’s coming outburst is interrupted by Blueblood shaking his head and his quiet:

“No,” he breathes in and out before attempting to look 1313 and Zamira face to face and failing miserably again, “I just wanted to tell you you don’t need to worry,” he looks around at the bodyguards, “I’m not spinning plans for revenge. I’m not hiring anyone to hurt you in any way. My family isn’t going after you. None of you - not you, Baron and Baroness, and not your bodyguards,” he draws a shaky breath, “I lost everything and I deserved it, but there’s still one thing I can give you and that’s peace of mind. Nothing that happened between me and any of you will come back to haunt you. You don’t need to keep watching your back in case of an assassin or a political plot. That’s all I wanted to tell you. I’m sorry. I wish I could say I was a better pony, but I’m not. I know I wouldn’t be apologizing now if I wasn’t stopped in such a complete way,” he tries to look up and keep his eyes on the duo for the third time, “That’s all. I’m sorry, and I commend you for protecting me all those years despite… everything.”

“I don’t believe you,” Zamira snarls, “You’re just setting us up to-”

“He’s telling the truth,” says 1313 calmly. The zebras know 1313 well enough by now to not dispute the assessment of a changeling infiltrator, “I would like to know what changed your mind, though.”

Blueblood thinks for a moment as the pieces fall into place.

“Your changeling drones did, in general. 65536 in particular,” he tries to put the mixed feelings into words, “I spent all my life around nobility. With very few exceptional ponies whom everypony has grown to consider stupid, nopony ever talked to anypony else without an ulterior motive, an expectation, or an attempt to use them. I thought that was the only way the world worked, that the whole world was rotten to the core and the only way to live was to use my power to gain what enjoyment I could before somepony more influential forced me to do their bidding. Your drones… are genuine to the point where it harms their own goals, but… but they still live without being immediately taken advantage of. Somehow, they bring out the good in others. We’re in a griffon resort and nopony is throwing rocks at them. One is even being paid for painting,” Blueblood shakes his head, “My view of the world is making no sense around them… and it’s better that way.”

1313 looks at his wife and the bodyguards one by one and sees nothing but hatred. He understands. They can’t sense what he can, and they’ve been hurt more than he was. Well, maybe the last part is debatable, but at least they’ve been hurt for longer.

“Zamira, everyone?” he speaks up despite knowing what the answer will be, “This is your choice, not mine.”

“...get the buck as far away from us as possible…” is all Zamira whispers.

Blueblood turns around and simply leaves. 1313 watches him until he blends with the crowd on the promenade, searching for any muscle movement, any sign of easing up, anything inconsistency that would tell him Blueblood wasn’t sincere.

He finds nothing.

Zamira’s legs are shaking and, as she looks at Zemi, Zara, and Zaida, it’s clear to her that she’s not alone. Day after day over the past two years they’ve watched every shadow, expecting revenge despite hearing things about Blueblood’s fall from grace but never digging into it to find anything concrete in case their questions would draw the attention of him or his family and friends.

No more? Is the nightmare really finally over?

***

It’s close to midnight, and Chrysalis finds herself on the veranda of the bungalow yet again, this time with some kind of a lemon drink inside a coconut so alcoholic that it could probably strip paint and it was a small miracle that the straw hasn’t melted already. She didn’t transform her insides so that she could get drunk, a little bit because of the paladin suppressor, but mainly because she needed to think and liked the taste of the cocktail anyway. 99 and 387 are away, helping to clear the promenade, specifically the mobile bleachers, the podium, and other props related to the game. Not the trash, though. They’re the hive delegation, not some cleaners.

She takes a long sip that would likely knock out an earth pony.

The second game…

She listened to 387’s analysis. She consulted what her approach should be. She was ready to focus and do her absolute best. She summoned her seven hundred years of leading the changeling hive through wars and bare survival.

And she got stomped in the second game.

Of course she made it last as long as she could, but cheap villain-tier monologues about revenge and falling right into her trap whenever Shining Armor kicked her ass in a particularly crafty manner could extend the game only for so long. Eventually, to the obvious disappointment of the griffon soldiers who gathered in larger numbers the closer she was to losing, she congratulated Shining Armor who told her that she was free to visit the Crystal Empire if she wanted to play again. The worst part was that she could feel that he meant it.

What a nerd…

Decent in bed, though. Not particularly endowed, but also not a selfish lover at all.

Just as her thoughts return to the lost game and she begins replaying it move after move in her head again, a sense of familiarity crosses her muted hive link and she mutters:

“...took you long enough…”

As 10013 raises its hoof to knock on the door, Chrysalis opens it and beckons the drone to enter, closing the door after it does so.

“So?” she asks before putting her hoof to her mouth.

“Umm, we found it, Your Majesty,” reports 10013 quietly, nervous under the sharp stare and visibly exhausted, “I told 99111 to hide it in our room. I didn’t want to carry it across the whole resort just in case.”

“Good. Does it work?”

“I, uhh, don’t know,” 10013 shakes its head, “It did something at the laboratory where it was kept but then it went click and it’s just a stick that whooms now. 10101 specifically said we’d never be able to use it.”

“Whooms?” is what Chrysalis catches on to.

“It hums really quietly if you put your ear directly to it. Well, more like whooms,” 10013 helpfully makes the noise, “Whooooom.”

“Alright. Any problems?”

“I think the hippogriffs might not like us,” says 10013, “The guys who live in the jungle. We kinda gave them a scare-”

The next ten minutes prove to be a much realer test of Chrysalis’ self-control than the game was as 10013 tells her about the hanging attempt which it thankfully doesn’t seem to understand.

“-and your game was long over when we returned but no one bothered us and 10101 said it didn’t, uhh, scan anyone around us. Which I think means ‘to sense’ or something. Speaking of which, how did the game go?”

Chrysalis gives it a withering look. A look that reminds it of the old days. A look that you would see only once, and it would be the last thing. Thankfully, Chrysalis just grumbles:

“I bought you the time you needed. That’s all we wanted.”

“You… uhhh… if you liked Scufflestick you can play with us whenever you wan-”

“Go to bed, 10013,” she interrupts the drone, “No, wait, one more thing,” she adds as 10013 immediately turns towards the door, and it senses a shift in the hive mind, “Two for you, one for 65536 for escorting you, same for 36658 and 99111, and finally one for 20100.”

[10013:4, 20100:7, 36658:5, 99111:4, 99380:6, 99526:3, Smiley:6, 65536:3]

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” 10013’s face brightens up with a smile.

“You earned it. Hopefully whatever knowledge we can squeeze out of the living machine will be useful later.”

10013 takes a breath to say something, she just nods towards the door, and the drone immediately drops it and leaves. Shortly after, 10013 enters the completely dark and silent suite. Despite the excitement and curiosity regarding their trip, everyone is already asleep, clearly exhausted from the evening. The fixed radio is quietly chatting on the table by the balcony as usual, with 99380 curled up in an armchair next to it, and no one else is in sight. 10013 yawns, feeling darkness take it so quickly that it doesn’t even go to the “fanatics’ room”, and just belly flops onto the carpet.

Author's Note

Ayyyy, I made it. It's gonna get buried during this upload time, but at least I finished it and it's not like I'm getting new readers at this point anyway. It's a chunky one and I'm tired so I hope I didn't overdo it on typos and mistakes.

Day 0 - Prologue: 1/3

The changeling invasion of Canterlot was a terrifying event, scarring ponies for a long time to come. However, in the end, kinder hearts prevailed over politics and power grabs, and a pathway to diplomacy between the two species eventually appeared despite rigorous opposition. An official peace treaty was signed roughly a year later, and changelings were allowed into pony cities without the fear of any official retribution. The unofficial but expected reactions of ponies varied from curious observation to straight up hostility. However, since most ponies had zero direct experience with changelings, the majority of cities eventually grew to regard them as any other newcomer as long as they didn’t cause trouble. Of course, wandering around in the open was only an avenue for the few changelings tasked by the queen with testing the waters. The good old shapeshifting was still the main method of getting around, but the added safety of not immediately facing torches and pitchforks in case they burned a little more love expected, making their disguise fail, made work so much easier for infiltrators.

As one would expect, an easier job for infiltrators meant more love for the hive overall and, as heartless as it would sound, the same went for the fact that the overall number of surviving changelings post-invasion stabilized around three hundred. Thanks to all that, it could be said that the changelings were thriving, even though their numbers were microscopic in contrast to the times before the invasion. At least the living ones weren’t starving anymore… or starving that much… or-

The point is, things got better overall.

In Canterlot itself it was different, obviously, due to ponies having a distinctly unpleasant set of extremely personal experiences. Technomagical devices made for detecting changelings were installed in all public buildings, changelings themselves weren’t allowed to shapeshift into ponies without permission, and any short-term changeling visitors had to declare their business at Royal Guard gate posts.

In short, while three years have passed since the changeling invasion of Canterlot so far, and despite things having improved dramatically, attitudes and relationships will doubtlessly take many more years to reach a level where a changeling and a pony can live side by side and, as friends, hate all those damn immigrant diamond dogs.

As for how things are now back home in the Badlands hive…

***

The machine gun thudding of tiny hooves on a rocky floor echoes through a pitch-black tunnel deep underground. Five changeling drones are pumping their legs as fast as they can while being pursued by something completely hidden in darkness behind them. The only thing any surface dweller would see here would be five pairs of rapidly approaching, glowing, teal eyes.

“Is this normal? I hatched last week,” asks 99782 via a hive link, its mouth busy gasping for breath.

“WHERE ARE ALL THESE PINCERY SKITTERERS ARE COMING FROM?!” screams 78821 out loud.

“WE WERE JUST DIGGING THROUGH THIS TUNNEL LAST MONTH AND IT WAS CLEAR!” adds 86995 in the back.

“Not normal. Got it. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” 99782 joins in the loud yelling.

“AAAAAAAH!”

“Do you think that the yelling is just making them follow us?” 78821 ponders the situation.

“THAT’S THE POINT!” calls out the drone in the lead - 10013.

“Wait, really?”

“YUP, NOW START YELLING!”

“Aaaaaah!”

“LOUDER!”

“AAAAAAAAAH!”

“GOOD JOB!”

“AAAAAAA -yay!- AAAAAA!”

Despite the nonexistent explanation, the final drone of the bunch, the biggest one, is completely silent, both orally and mentally, but it doesn’t seem to bother anyone so it must be okay.

The mental communication, in contrast to the panicked screaming, flowing through the hive links of changelings in the vicinity is, if not calm, then at least somewhat organized.

“Tunnel x5–4d75. We need the Angry Shiny here! Who has the Angry Shiny?” calls out 10013.

“What’s going on?” asks 2033, a warrior currently stationed in the underground sector in trouble.

“NEED ANGRY SHINY!”

“What’s the target?”

“Pincery skitterers!”

“What the holes is a pincery skit-”

“Gots pincers! Skitters!”

“ASTONISHINGLY HELPFUL! How many are there?”

“ALLOFTHEM!”

“Why would I ever think a damn drone would make sense…?” 2033 mumbles and rolls his eyes before replying, “I’m on the way. Meet me at the T-section with x5–4dsa3. I’ll be there in 34 seconds.”

“41 seconds on our end,” replies 10013.

As the warrior gallops to the correct tunnel, he can hear the screams echo way before he reaches the T-section. Once he’s there, he has 7 seconds to fiddle with a strange device on his back which looks like a cylinder connected to a complex nozzle via a metallic hose.

Wrong.

He barely has the time to aim the nozzle glued with goop to his foreleg into the center of the tunnel as the drones round the gentle bend obscuring them.

“YOU’RE TWO SECONDS EARLY, DIMWITS! TWO WHOLE SECONDS!”

“WOOO! WE’RE GETTING BETTER AT RUNNING!”
“PUMPING MY LEGGOS AS HARD AS I CAN!”
“BURNING SOME LOVE SO THAT I DON’T GET ALL FAT AND STUCK SOMEWHERE!”
*SCARED DRONE FACE!*

“No, you damn idiots! I need time to get this thing set uuuu- WHATINALLQUEEN’SHOLESISTHAT!?”

Faced with the somehow almost silent tsunami of giant crabs, each easily over third the size of a drone, completely covering the rough walls as well as the ceiling of the tunnel, 2033 doesn’t wait for anything, and bends his fetlock to push the responsive handle just as his eyes turn from bright teal to smoky grey.

It doesn’t matter to him at all that one drone is lagging behind the group.

Screw you, drones. Learn to time things correctly!

Sudden blinding light and blistering heat blasting out of the nozzle is followed by immediate high-pitched screeching and the heavy stench of burning flesh. Without the time to stabilize himself due to the mis-timing of drones, the pressurized payload makes 2033’s foreleg sway and lose precision.

“Smiley, cover us!” orders 10013, and the biggest drone stops a short distance behind the 2033, its eyes scanning the area for any pincery skitterers that might pass by the warrior. Thankfully, due to the nature of the narrow tunnel, any crab that passes by him is already mostly cooked, so all Smiley has to do is kick it back into the fire.

Less fortunately, whatever the changelings are using as fuel for the Angry Shiny is extremely sticky and flammable, and despite changeling chitin having decent heat insulation properties the slowest drone is halfway covered in flames, rolling on the ground without any luck as the flames keep spreading.

10013 mentally pings the two trembling drones standing by his side, both just staring at their kin being slowly consumed by fire.

“You two, shake me as hard as you can!”

They exchange glances as he sits down next to the rolling drone.

“Got it, shake 10013 like a can!”

“What’s a can?”

“The opposite of can’t. That means you can shake it and not can’t.”

“Ooooh, you veterans are so smart!”

They grab one of 10013’s shoulders each and go at it.

10013 burps.

10013 purses its lips.

10013 starts spraying green foam from its mouth at the burning drone, aiming its head with both its forelegs, and covering the target’s burning parts from front to back.

Contrary to the usual trait of anything goo-related immediately exploding or corroding things, this seems to actually douse the flames for once.

“Whhougheuheemm…” 10013 sways from side to side when the pressurized throwing up stops, shaken from both the chase and being quite literally shaken.

“...ow ow ow ow ow ow…” the half-cooked drone quietly weeps, unmoving so that the goo-foam can settle and harden around its body.

Smiley punts the last burning crab back into 2033’s inferno and, shortly after, the warrior turns the Angry Shiny off, letting the heavy black smoke replace the bright flames.

“Let’s move somewhere breathable,” orders 2033 as he walks over to the half-cocooned drone, “What about 86995? Will it live or can I-”

“99782, help 78821 load 86995 up and get it to High Score. Smiley, 99782, and I will continue our tasks,” 10013 gives 2033 a nervous smile, stepping between him and the wounded drone, “Is that okay? No need to eat anyone, it’s just some burns. Give it two or three sleepy times and it’ll be okay.”

“We’ll see about that once I report this incident,” 2033 frowns, “Wrong timing, risking precious equipment, and endangering a ranked warrior. I’d sort this out myself, but… new rules are new rules.”

10013 knows full well what “sorting this out” would mean before the new rules agreed on by the queen and 387. How a warrior like 387 managed to persuade the queen herself to change her attitude towards drones was a mystery to everyone, but since the first rule was “No drones being eaten for love or killed for fun unless agreed on by multiple high ranks responsible for their hive sector.” there was exactly zero questioning any part of it.

Permission to leave granted, 78821 rushes off with 86995 on its back while 10013, Smiley, 99782, and 2003 stop several air vents away where the black smoke doesn’t reach anymore. The warrior grows claws on his foreleg, grabs 10013 by its neck, and slams it against the wall.

“Okay, you absolute twats. In case you DON’T get shoved into the crusher for this - learn to holes-freaking-dammit at least DESCRIBE THE THREATS PROPERLY!”

The remaining two changelings only watch, fully knowing that whatever happens next isn’t in their hooves.

“I did say pincery skitterers, didn’t I?” 10013 just hangs there. Choking a changeling isn’t really a thing without breaking their carapace, and the warrior has been careful not to harm the drone so far, “If I didn’t then I’m sorry. I thought I did, but I might have panicked and-”

2033 lets the drone drop on the ground.

“Those were underground flesheater crabs. Not ‘pincer whatevers’, you idiots. If at least ONE of you identified them properly then this thing wouldn’t be broken!” he shows 10013 the twisted handle which didn’t survive the combination of heat and having to be moved around without proper stabilization.

“But… why?” 10013 gives 2033 a puzzled look, “Underground is redundant, we’re all down here anyway. Flesheater isn’t accurate, they eat chitin too. And what’s that crap thingy anyway? They have pincers, they skitter. That means you know their method of attack as well as movement. Makes perfect sense.”

2033’s eye twitches.

“WE USED TO EAT YOU DRONES FOR MUCH LESS THAN THIS!”

“We know. We’re delicious,” 10013 sighs, nodding.

2033 turns around and just breathes heavily. 10013 looks to the other two drones to see how they’re doing. 99782 is just sitting by the wall, trying to somehow meld with the jagged rocks while Smiley is…

…nibbling on its foreleg with a mix of curiosity and determination.

“We’re not delicious to ourselves, dummy,” 10013 flicks Smiley’s nose which makes it stop, “Only to everything else.”

Hearing that, 2033 just groans.

Day 1 - Shippy time: 1/9

The trip from the Badlands to Manehattan was nothing to talk about. The summer weather was perfect for a long trek and, being accompanied by a warrior holding more than starvation level of love, an infiltrator ranking in double digits, as well as the queen herself, no timberwolf or any other predator could even close in on the group at any point in time unnoticed.

No, no amount of begging would persuade the queen to let the drones keep a shiny bear with its hide covered in stars that they saw one night as the newbie drones wanted. 387 and the drones that survived the dreamscape battle against Tantabus were much less enthusiastic as well, so eventually 387 just promised to fashion each drone a sturdy walking stick over the course of the trip instead.

I mean, having a chance to pet a giant shiny bear was one thing, but getting a durable stick that a drone would get to keep for itself? Now that was something.

Anyway, back to Manehattan…

***

I’m not scared. There totally AREN’T way too many ponies around. I gotta stay cool. The others are looking up to me. I’m not High Score but if anything goes wrong it’ll be on me.

It’s all about keeping and eye on things, staying vigil-

*Huff huff huff!*

“EEP!” 10013 darts to the side as the wet nose of a dog presses against its leg and starts sniffing the drone before licking it.

“Eww,” the unicorn mare holding the dog’s leash tugs on it with a haughty pout, “Don’t touch that, Daisy, you don’t know where it’s been.”

“In a forest, then some grassy hills, swamp, forest again, road…” 10013 stops as the mare ignores it and walks away with the dog.

10013 breathes out in relief. Whatever the fluffy sniffer was, it was close in size to the drone itself and, as it was breathing through its open mouth, 10013 saw teeth which, while not overly sharp, could still likely cause serious damage.

The drones are walking through the streets of Manehattan, dutifully following Chrysalis and 387. 10013 is in the back, making sure no one wanders away or stays behind. Thankfully, the queen’s pace has been fairly relaxed ever since they entered the city, so even the short legs of drones are enough to keep up. On top of that, the crowds of ponies on the sidewalk seem to part in front of Chrysalis, giving the drones some space so that they don’t have to push through. Unfortunately, while their surroundings are completely alien to the small drones, they don’t have any opportunity to examine the smells or colors, and this strange world has shrunk to the endless stream of colorful ponies passing by and obscuring the view of anything else.

“Everything is ready for your arrival,” 93’s voice sounds through the minds of everyone, making a crude map of several streets assemble itself in everyone’s heads, “You, Your Majesty, are to use the representative entrance here,” a marker appears on the mental map leading up a smaller pier towards the depiction of a massive white ship, “while the rest of us will take the staff entrance here,” the second marker appears on a larger pier, and 93 shares an image of ponies carrying heavy bags.

“No, you’re coming with me, 93,” replies Chrysalis, “387, take care of the drones and stay linked up.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” both high ranks agree.

They arrive in the public section of Manehattan docks not even half an hour later, and split up. The crowds of ponies haven’t thinned a bit despite the heat, but 387 is leading the way without a problem, and the group soon find themselves standing in a long queue filled presumably with servants of various members of nobility who signed up for the trip. In comparison to the ponies in front of and behind the changeling group who are wearing colorful clothes and distinguishing symbols, the changelings look even more out of place than usual, but no one is bothering them due to having a number of their own tasks to do.

Finally, however, the drones get a clear view of the ship, the sheer size of which is absolutely stunning to their minds used to narrow, underground tunnels of the hive.

10013 looks to the left - there’s the side of the ship, the concrete pier, and a queue of ponies leading all the way back to the dock. 10013 looks to the right - even now that they’re close to the ramp leading into the ship, there’s still so much ship that way! Finally, it looks up - STILL MORE SHIP!

“How are you feeling, guys?” asks 10013 the others.

“Overwhelmed,” replies 36658, “I just wish we got to see more of the city.”

“Overhelmet too,” 99526 nods vigorously, “I thought you guys were kidding when you said ponies were so big.”

“My leggos hurt,” 99380 sits down briefly, rubbing its hooves.

“I’m a bit scared,” 99111 rubs its head, “There’s so much of… everything and no safe nook to curl up into.”

Smiley gives distraught 99111 a hug.

“Don’t worry,” 20100 looks around at everyone, “We’re nearly inside and then someone will tell us what to do and everything will be normal again. I just hope I’ll have some time to draw all these weird kinds of ponies,” it nods to the back where a group of muscular zebra mares wearing leather armors which, to a sufficiently pervy eye, would look like a mix of protection and BDSM gear, “Look, those ponies have stripes.”

“Those are zebras,” 36658 peeks out from the line, beams, and waves at a rather confused mare who catches it looking and gives it a raised eyebrow before it shuffles back, “They’re pony versions of the tree I used to make agonyslayers from before the queen made me tend to our new poppy patches. I wonder how they taste…”

“...and which part of theirs to eat…” mutters 387 with a snicker, earning a puzzled look from 99111, “Nevermind,” he sighs and pats the drone’s head, “I give it at most half an hour before it’s our turn. The ponies ahead of us don’t look too burdened with luggage.”

***

Chrysalis’ looming shadow falls on a unicorn wearing covering dark blue clothes from head to hooves. On the barrel of his padded jacket, yellow letters spell out SECURITY. The stallion is currently looking downwards at a notepad filled with names and numbers with a pen in his mouth due to his telekinesis being occupied by the pad.

“Ticket,” he mumbles, and 93 presents it to him, “Number 86… 86… 86…” his eyes scan the paper, “Ah, here you are. Queen Chry… sal… is…” his head snaps upwards over 93 at the queen, “Hnng!” and he swallows his pencil.

As he keels over, choking and pawing against his neck on the concrete pier, two other security unicorns rush closer. One opens the original victim’s mouth and begins weaving some kind of spell while the second approaches Chrysalis who is watching the scene with mild amusement. His bodily features of both are hidden under the same covering security uniform as the others, but he looks in his forties with greying brown mane and a short beard complementing his brick red coat.

“What an unexpected… honor. You must be queen Chrysalis,” the unicorn gives Chrysalis a courteous bow, “Glorious Quest, owner and representative of Quest Security. We’re responsible for making sure this entire trip goes without a hitch. However, I’m ashamed to admit that I wasn’t aware you’d be joining us on this trip,” he levitates up the dropped notepad, and 93 once again presents the ticket she caught as the original security guard was falling, “No matter, ticket 86 is here aaand everything seems in order. Present your ticket to the staff inside and they’ll show you to your delegation’s cabins,” he beams at the queen, “Oh, one final thing, Your Majesty - the island resort we’re heading into belongs to the Griffon Empire, but there’s no need to worry with Quest security onboard.”

“I just made one of your guards eat a pen without even doing anything,” sneers Chrysalis, “I think I’ll manage,” she glances sideways at the original guard now saved by the second unicorn who managed to telekinetically pull the pen out of his throat, “Although… maybe if I get bored I might try to have your beefcakes eat a bug next,” she boops Quest, “93 sure could use some action,” she chuckles as 93’s eyes bulge just like Quest’s and walks past him onto the ramp leading up into the cruise ship itself.

Quest remains, visibly frozen and straining his face to remain polite.

“Wasn’t that needlessly antagonistic, Your Majesty?” mentally asks 93.

“I can smell a suck-up a mile away.”

“Everyone sucks up to you at home, Your Majesty.”

“Yes, because I’m their queen and they’re afraid. That’s absolutely fine and proper to a certain degree. This Quest guy wants something he isn’t saying. No matter, I hope this clears up at least a little why 387 is so important and enjoys freedoms I rarely offer to anyone else.”

“His… defiance isn’t always constructive.”

“True, but he tends to point out problems in areas that would be too time and energy consuming to monitor directly.”

“I will take that into consideration and be more lenient with him in the future.”

“Oh, don’t go too far. I enjoy it when he’s grinding his teeth.”

Author's Note

I'll add the overall amount of parts for day 1 once I'm done writing it.

Day 2 - Points: 7/9

The door of the staff coordinator’s office opens, letting out a fuming blue unicorn who turns her head back in the door frame and yells:

“The Great and Powerful Trixie will NEVER pay you a single bit and you should be happy she won’t sue you on the spot for a defective lock!”

“I’m sure our legal department will get a kick out of any lawyer you’ll afford when you can’t even pay for a broken lock,” replies a clearly unimpressed voice from the office.

“AAAARGH!” Trixie slams the door so hard it rattles.

“It can still be two locks!” calls out the now muted voice.

“And you can suck Trixie’s two cocks!” the blue unicorn doesn’t wait for an answer this time and stomps off back towards her cabin on the other end of the ship.

Thankfully, the ventilation managed to get rid of the black smoke from her exploded props while she was being questioned by the security, so now there’s only one black thing left, aside from the residue on everything, near her cabin.

“Great… you,” Trixie’s less than enthusiastic tone greets Smiley sitting outside her cabin just by the open door, “First you break the door for which I get charged and now you’re… what? Waiting to drag me into a dark corner and drain me dry there?”

“PLEASE, DO THAT!” comes from the neighboring cabin along with a banging on the wall.

“SHUT YOUR CREAMPIE HOLE, AND THE GREAT AND POWERFUL TRIXIE DOESN’T MEAN THE PASTRY!”

A mare peeks out from the next door, blushing from both embarrassment and anger.

“Changeling, she snores like a tractor and keeps monologuing nonsense in her sleep!” she says, “If you get her out of here I swear I’ll send one of my hottest friends your way, no questions asked.”

Smiley tilts its head. The mare doesn’t seem angry at it, so everything is kinda okay. On the other hole, the proximity of the two mares to each other feels like the real problem which requires solving, preferably immediately.

“Trixie’s monologues are the best part of her act!”

“Says a lot about the overall quality, doesn’t it?” sneers the mare, “I’ve seen better spoken content in clop, and the mares in it gurgle rather than talk!”

“Nopony badmouths Trixie’s act!” Trixie bends her legs, clearly ready to pounce.

“Hey, at least we agree on something. Nothing anypony can say can be worse than your show’s content. I’d tell you to stick to whorseing but I can’t believe there’s anypony who would buck you even for free, you skinny stallion!”

“Okay, I’ve had just enough!” the unicorn snarls back, losing her third-person speech out of sheer rage, “If I’m going back to jail for not paying for this stupid door then I’m taking your teeth with me for the street cred!”

As Trixie tries to take a step forward, she realizes her legs aren’t touching the ground anymore as, during her outburst, Smiley snuck under her belly and now simply rose itself up.

“Hey!” Trixie tries to keep the other mare in sight while Smiley carries her into her cabin by bending her neck as the door frame passes her by, “We’re not finished!”

“Pretty sure we are!” the other mare calls out, “Or do I have to call the security on you?”

“...dumb bitch…” grumbles Trixie as Smiley lowers her on all fours in the middle of the blackened cabin and sits down, waiting for events to unfold. Trixie shoots the slightly smiling Silent an exhausted glare before her eyes land on the open door with the section containing the lock bent out of shape. One sigh later, she walks past Smiley and begins examining the damage, “Plywood and the cheapest lock on the market, and those assholes want me- Trixie to pay five times the price. Trixie could pick this in her sleep,” she mutters, glancing back at Smiley watching her with a tilted head, “Don’t look at Trixie like that, everypony does what they need to survive.”

Smiley walks over and boops her.

“You don’t have any idea what Trixie is saying, do you?” she asks. Smiley stares back, waiting for some clarification of the questioning tone. Instead, she resumes examining the lock, “Hmm, it might actually be a stroke of luck that this is such garbage. The wood can just be glued back together and the soft metal of the lock didn’t break, it just bent.”

*Confused face!* *Pleading face!* *Pleading face!*

99111, wandering around the ship since it informed 36658 about Gem’s predicament, catches the broadcast.

“What’s wrong?”

The only answer the drone gets is a mental map marker.

*Pleading face!*

“I’m on my way,” 99111 breaks into a gallop.

The ship is huge but easy to navigate, and the drone was already on the level above staff deck, so when its hoofsteps echo through the hallway, Smiley peeks out of Trixie’s cabin and waves at 99111 with a sigh of relief.

“What are you doing now?” asks Trixie from the inside, rummaging through her baggage taking up most of the small cabin’s space.

“Umm,” 99111 stops outside when faced with the blue unicorn’s annoyed look. Smiley pokes the open door with its nose repeatedly.

“Fantastic…” Trixie facehoofs, “They’re multiplying.”

“Smiley called me here and I’m not particularly sure why. Is there anything we can help with?” asks 99111 hesitantly.

“Unless you know how to fix a door, Trixie doubts it,” Trixie glares at Smiley who is softly bonking the door non-stop with its head.

99111 examines the damage, poking the wood from several angles.

“I mean, the door itself would be easy to reinforce, but that metal thingy looks too complicated for me. I saw a griffon at the workshop doing something with metal bits, so I would ask around there.”

Trixie freezes.

“Say that again?”

Trixie’s eye twitches, she opens her mouth, closes it, raises her hoof, and then lowers it back down.

“Workshop. With tools. Free to use,” she says in the end.

“No one stopped me from going inside,” 99111 shrugs, “And there was this nice zebra lady-”

“...if I could at least fix the lock, I’d be able to haggle down the damage cost no matter what and if, by some miracle, I could glue the door pieces together, then blending the color would be simple…” mumbles Trixie to herself, interrupting the drone, before fishing out a piece of chalk from one of her many boxes, standing up straight, and pointing at the two, “The Great and Powerful Trixie accepts your generous and, most importantly, free offer of assistance.”

Smiley beams, walking over to her and licking the levitating piece of chalk.

“No!” Trixie draws it back, “Turn around!” Smiley keeps following the chalk floating around it, “Hey! Here!”

“Umm, Miss, we don’t know how much Smiley really understands if someone talks to it,” explains 99111, “I’ll ask it to stop.”

“Smiley, stop.”

*Curious face!* *Curious face!*

Smiley keeps trying to lick the chalk.

“I’ll ask the lady to show the floating white rock to you afterwards, okay?”

*Happy face!*

Smiley sits down.

“Smiley, you said?” asks Trixie.

“Yes, we call it that because-”

“There!” Trixie’s floating chalk has successfully scribbled “SML” onto the side of the Silent’s barrel, “And your name?”

“99111,” the drone doesn’t flinch when the piece of chalk floats over and writes the number on its side as well.

“Better than calling you the bigger one and the smaller one,” Trixie withdraws the chalk, and Smiley sighs.

“Smiley said it would stop turning around if you let it check out the white drawy rock.”

“The chalk? Yeah, sure, suit yourself,” she throws it to Smiley’s legs, “Just don’t eat it. They might be a pack for a bit, but waste not want not,” she walks over to the door and starts raising it off of its hinges using a mix of physical effort and telekinesis, “Hnnng! Stupid… door…” she grunts as the blue glow of her horn flickers and the muscles on her legs and back bulge.

99111 grows small hooks on its forelegs, with the help of which it’s easy to raise the door.

“Good, now show Trixie to the workshop,” she nods at 99111.

“Hey, Smiley!” 99111 mentally prods the Silent along with the words, “Come grab the door.”

With a piece of chalk stuck in its leg hole, Smiley slides under the door now propped against the wall and loads it onto its back. To Trixie’s surprise, the door is balancing perfectly on its back, completely covering the changeling, and not sliding off at all as Smiley walks out into the hallway.

“Trixie could certainly use more of you in her daily life,” muses the unicorn while putting several unidentified black discs under the carpet past the door frame. When she catches 99111 trying to poke one barely visible bulge, she swats its hoof away and says quietly, “Don’t touch it! If somepony walks in and tries to steal Trixie’s stuff, they’ll quickly regret it.”

Day 4 - Shipwrecked?: 6/7

“-and with that, only one of your drone blobs remains,” Shining concludes his turn, “I guess that I made the sides too heavily imbalanced, but the point was to show you the system, not set up a real match.”

10013 doesn’t reply immediately, watching the ‘battleground’ with narrowed eyes.

After some explaining that running away could be a map objective just like capturing an area or straight up all-out battle, and that losing doesn’t really net any penalty because it’s all supposed to just be friendly fun, the drone stopped trying to simply flee and got into the spirit of things. However, the dice clearly weren’t on 10013’s side and the five drone blobs managed to only cause two hit points’ worth of damage to Shining’s unicorn blob.

“This does look pretty doomed,” 36658 nods with a pout.

“Don’t give up. The dice are a fickle mistress,” Shining encourages the drones, “You can always get some lucky rolls and I might not hit you for a few turns.”

“Hmmm,” 10013 rubs its chin, “I think it’s time for my secret weapon. 20100, come over here, will you?”

The drones exchange looks of sudden realization which Shining can’t decipher. 20100 sits down next to 10013, and the Emperor is absolutely certain he would have no clue which is which if the two shuffled around with his eyes closed once or twice. Well, not entirely. The presumed 20100 is smiling while 10013 still looks like it’s thinking hard about something.

“Can 20100 roll for me?” asks 10013 before doing anything else, “Is it allowed by the rules?”

“In an official tournament setting I think you can’t do that without explicit permission from the other player but here it doesn’t matter. Go for it,” Shining shrugs.

“Time to save the drone blob, 20100,” 10013 nudges the other drone and gives it the dice.

“The chance is extremely low-” Shining starts talking but freezes when 20100 rolls a hit and armor penetration and the maximum damage of two.

“Go go, blobby!” 20100 cheers, “You can do it!”

“Oh, wow. That was lucky,” Shining leans back, blinking, “We’ll see how you hold up now.”

Shining attacks. 20100 rolls 6 - armor save.

Next turn - 10013’s blob hits Shining’s for maximum yet again and the big blob falls.

“Oh wow, you killed my unicorn blob. Well done,” Shining doesn’t seem bothered at all, “Told you that luck can change.”

“YAAAAAAAAAY!” the drones start cheering as one.

With the exception of 20100 who looks at its hooves, wibbles, and starts crying.

“Buddy? Buddy?” 10013 pulls it into a hug, “What’s wrong. You didn’t kill anything for real.”

“I knooooooooow!” 20100 weeps, “‘s not it!” it sobs, “IT MEANS I CAN’T PLAY WITH YOU BECAUSE I ALWAYS WIIIIIIIIIN!”

“What? That’s nonsense,” Shining tilts his head, “What are you talking… about?” his voice drifts off when he notices that the drones are taking 20100 deadly seriously, “You just rolled maximum on everything twice. I mean, it’s statistically unlikely but it can happen.”

10013 shakes its head.

“That’s not it, Mister Shiny. 20100 kinda just wins at random stuff. Wanna try again?”

“That’s crazy, sure,” Shining shrugs, “One big blob against one small blob and it’ll prove that statistically it’s near impossible.”

Three rounds of maximum damage hits and perfect armor saves later, Shining moves his big blob off of the battlefield again, jaw dropped.

20100 starts wailing out loud again:

“I- I wanna play Scufflestick Big Number with you g- guys, but I caaaaaaaaan’t!”

10013’s ears perk up.

“I’ve got a leadership idea!” it says, raising a hoof.

All drones go quiet and look at 10013 in perfect sync.

“Stars, I wish my soldiers were this obedient,” mutters Shining when he sees it.

“So, Scufflestick rule number one, right?” 10013, “20100 can always have someone else roll for it or it wouldn’t be fun.”

“Ooooh!” 20100’s mood changes instantly as it rams into 10013 and hugs it.

“Agree!”

“That’s why you’re the smart drone.”

“High Score would have done it the same way!”

“We can have Smiley do it,” offers 99111, “I doubt we can teach it the game rules but as long as we make it clear these dice thingies aren’t for eating it’ll be okay.”

“Excellent idea!” 10013 beams before turning back to Shining, who is watching the situation unfold with only growing confusion mixed with admiration at how naturally the drones accepted the idea that it’s not about winning but everyone having fun, “Okay, so our blobby won. What do we do now? Do we munch the losers like the high ranks used to do to us or… well… what happens now?”

“Uhm, I mean,” Shining rubs his head, “We weren’t playing for anything, but you can agree to set the stakes before the game. That’s up to you, really.”

“Alrighty, that makes sense,” 10013 nods, returning Shining’s dice to the Emperor, “And anyone can play this without getting hurt or if we’re healing from a broken leg or something. I like this.”

“Ohhhhh,” Shining leans closer, “If you like that then let’s get to the best part.”

“Umm, wasn’t that the game?” 10013 raises its eyebrows.

“The game is only half of it, or maybe even less,” Shining shakes his head with a smirk, “You see, we only used blobs with simple stats, but there are many more units in Battle- Scuffle, uhh, stick. Your army- group of units you select for the battle should be a good mix,” his horn flashes, a branch of the tree they’re sitting under breaks off, and Shining begins drawing with it in the sand, “Many ponies who are involved with this game only paint their models or customize them to fit their idea of an army they like. They don’t even play the game that much, just show off their army.”

“So… you don’t just imagine each blob is a different thing?” asks 99380.

“Ohhhh for sure not,” Shining smiles, “There is so much fun involved in the busywork of painting units or, as it might be in your case, straight up carving models out of your, uhh, stuff…”

“Goop!” 99526 nods, “Just like 93 and I did with the cheese set.”

“Uhhh, yes, goop, exactly,” Shining agrees with some hesitation, “You can make your own models and make them fit into the rules of the game. Unfortunately, as I said, my pocket rulebook is gone, so you’d have to make up the stat lines on your own and figure out what would be fair.”

10013 looks around.

“Sooo, guys, since we don’t have the Pocket Book of Rules and we already made rule one regarding 20100 so that it can play, how about we make our own Scufflestick Big Number game from scratch?”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Shining chimes in, “I don’t know how often you guys can get to pony cities and buy official Game Sweatshop models and codexes. I can help you with balancing -making sure the units you make up are fair- as long as we’re on this trip.”

Everyone looks at 10013.

“I guess that’s something to do during breaky time. We could even trade some really well done models for other things.”

“Waaaait,” 99526 rubs its chin, “So you mean that if, by any chance, I made like a super detailed model, I could trade it for… a stick?”

“I mean, sure?” 10013 shrugs, “Maybe if you made one that looked a lot like the Queen or something, complete with anatomically accurate leg holes.”

“Ohhhhh…” 99526 smiles, “I like it. And if I can’t trade it I can always play Scufflestick BN with it.”

“I think that if we showed the others back home we could be trading models even if they’re just goop,” 99111 adds, “And it would help the guys who haven’t found any shinies or interesting stuff if they could just make something up and piece it together from their goop. I dunno, they could trade a well-done unicorn pony for a round pebble or something.”

“And that would mean that losing a stash to a cave-in or something wouldn’t be so bad!” 10013 nods approvingly before looking at Shining who’s watching this with a mix of amusement and puzzlement, “So, what does your Pocket Book of Rules say about making our own models?”

“Well… I think it’s something about ruthless lawsuits,” Shining chuckles before noting the blank faces of the drones, “Nevermind. Before making models, you kinda need to make factions. Battle- Scufflestick is about different factions using varied armies to control various places. We can say that our desert blob battle was about the… Unicorn Empire fighting the Drone Union for, I don’t know, good source of sand, right? That’s really up to your imagination.”

“So we start with factions, right? Like… The Changeling Hive?” asks 10013.

“Yup,” Shining nods, “But you can take it more creatively and let your fantasy work with both units and the name. I rule the Crystal Empire, so if I wanted to go full Game Sweatshop, I would call it something along the lines of The Imperium of Prisms… or much worse, especially in some mangled old language no one really speaks,” he adds to himself.

“Oooh ooh ooh, I’ve got an idea!” 20100 raises its hoof. When it draws everyone’s attention, it says, “So… inspired by Mister Shiny here, we could have something familiar like The Imperium of Ling!”

“Ling like… a changeling?” asks Shining, “Don’t you mean lings?”

“Nu uh,” 20100 shakes its head, “I got it all figured out! There’s like this one head change- uhh, ling, right? The Queen. She sits in her throne room all the time and mind beams her orders to everyone. And maybe, if we decide on a super important battle, she could control a high rank and lead her army herself through them.”

“That’s a great concept!” Shining pats 20100’s head, making the drone giggle happily.

And hopefully Chrysalis will never find out about it.

“Do we all have to have our own factions or can I pick lings too?” asks 36658.

“No no, in the original there are only a hoofful of factions but you can have two armies of the same faction fight one another due to miscommunication or anything you can think of. You can even have one faction that’s so big that it has sub-factions which can fight each other.”

36658 narrows its eyes, glancing at 99111.

“I think I have an idea. Hey, 99111, I challenge you!”

“Huh? I thought we had our points thing,” 99111 scratches its head.

“Yeah, but we can do this too,” 36658 beams, “My faction will be the High Scorists -the name’s a work in progress- and we’re drones who believe in High Score protecting us!” it looks at Shining before adding with much less certainty, “Uhh, can we make it so that my drones just don’t get munched like we would in the real world?”

“Sure,” Shining shrugs, “We can think of special rules that make it possible for your tiny guys to fight the others,” he looks at 99111, “How about that? I can help you design something if you tell me what your beef with, uhh, that little drone guy is. Sorry, I can’t differentiate between you and I don’t remember your numbers.”

“Hmmm, I’ll need to think about it, but sure,” 99111 vigorously points at 36658, “I’ll stop your dangerous ways, both in the tunnels and in Scufflestick!”

10013 raises its hoof next.

“Can we play something along the lines of monsters?”

“One hundred percent!” Shining nods, “Real Battlemace 40 Million has a race of slimes that just eat everything to make more of them.”

“Ohhh, like cracky strippers,” 10013 nods, and Shining notices the other drones shudder or wince as one.

“What are those?” he asks, hesitating. One never knows with changelings, and it could be exactly what it sounds like.

“Nasty gribblers- hah, that’s what I’ll call my guys - The Gribblers!” 10013 clops its hooves together before continuing, “Anyway, cracky strippers are a horrifying thing, one of the worst in the tunnels. Well, maybe not, because they don’t get us as often as flappy biters, but when they do it’s really, really bad. They’re these web thingies that hang from the cracks in rocks, and they look almost completely like leggy spinner webs but if you touch them they drop a strand on you and if it gets through your carapace it’s over. The little strand just grows and grows and eats more and more of you and it kinda makes you super ill without any symptoms until your carapace suddenly cracks and you explode into more cracky strippers and since you wanted to get help there are usually more drones around you and they get infected and- well, you can see where that goes. We usually have to either call a high rank to kill the drone painlessly from afar or at least quickly, and then use the Angry Shiny on the whole place immediately, or straight up collapse a section of the tunnels and mark it as deadly. That would make my faction educational for the newbies too!”

Changeling zombies… but for them it’s not a game. They met them, they saw their friends explode and infect others.

Shining, turning slightly green, starts taking in long, deep breaths to calm himself down.

“Yeah… I think your faction will fit into your Scufflestick just fine.”

Before Shining can say anything else, however, the drones’ ears perk up at the same time just like earlier.

“Is everything okay?” he asks instead.

10013 smiles.

“387 just called 99380 away for something, which is a good sign that we should run and try to figure out how to get more points. Besides, we still gotta figure out our factions and those unit thingies before we get to the exact numbers. Bye, Emperor Shiny, and say hello to your sparkly ponies for us!”

And just like that they’re all gone again, quickly obscured by larger guests sitting or lying around.

Shining sighs before putting his dice away and standing up.

They’re still more coordinated and obedient than my guards. Not gonna lie, that stings.