They're home.

Chapters

(A)Way (from) home: 2
(A)Way (from) home: 3
(A)Way (from) home: 4
A puzzling morning: 1
A puzzling morning: 2
A puzzling morning: 3
A puzzling morning: 4
Everything old is new again: 1
Everything old is new again: 2
Everything old is new again: 3
Everything old is new again 4
Crimes against the Hive, and crimes against Equestria
Oops!: 1
Oops!: 2
Oops!: 3
Oops!: 4
Oops!: 5
Playing games: 1
Playing games: 2
Playing games: 3
Playing Games: 4
Sharing truths: 1
Sharing truths: 2
Sharing truths: 3
Sharing truths: 4
More questions than answers: 2
More questions than answers: 3
More questions than answers: 4
More questions than answers: 5
More questions than answers: 6
More questions than answers: 7
More questions than answers: 8
Power of perseverance: 1
Power of perseverance: 2
Power of perseverance: 4
Power of perseverance: 5
Power of perseverance: 6
Power of perseverance: 7
Hard Swaming Eee: Drones
Hard Swarming Eee: High Ranks
Hard Swaming Eee: Epilogue
(A)Way (from) home: 1
(A)Way (from) home: 5
Oops!: 6
More questions than answers: 1
Power of perseverance: 3

(A)Way (from) home: 2

“You could have told me you were following me!” the travelling ball of winter clothes scrunches its muzzle meaningfully at two bat ponies wearing only Nightguard light armors and white cloaks who are making sure that none of the remains of five timberwolves will ever be coming to life again.

The bulky stallion of the bat pony duo smiles at the traveller as his hoof adorned with heavy combat horseshoes crushes a timberwolf’s wooden head.

“Couldn’t. Luna’s orders.”

“Are you okay?” the second bat pony, a mare this time, finishes crushing her two victims into kindling, rushes over to the traveller, and pulls them into a hug.

“Totally fine, Miss Gloom!” is the traveller’s muffled reply.

“Show yourself, 65536, I gotta check.”

“I’m fiiiiine!” 65536’s hooves are swatted away as Gloom unwraps its face, revealing the smiling muzzle of a changeling drone.

“You’re dirty!” she spits on her hoof and starts wiping off some grime from the drone’s face.

“I slipped a few times today, that’s all. I’m not hurt,” the twisting drone finally manages to free itself and measures the bat pony duo.

“You did well fighting the first one on your own, and your training kicked in when I started issuing orders,” Night Hunter pats 65536’s head, “Well done.”

“I’m so proud of you!” Gloom beams at 65536.

“Thank you,” replies 65536, “I wasn’t scared during the one-on-one, but I was shaking for sure when I saw the next five,” it nods before starting to wave its forelegs in the air, “But then you swooped from the trees and whoosh! Next we’re standing back to back, punching baddies. Boom! Smack! I didn’t even need to use my emergency stick,” it taps its chest where its left foreleg connects to its barrel, revealing a pocket with something metallic sticking out.

With the immediate danger gone, the bat ponies exchange glances and Night Hunter scratches his head.

“I guess that after all these years we finally failed the mission. Are we getting old?”

“It’s the worst winter in decades,” Gloom shrugs, “And I guess we couldn’t have kept it a secret forever.”

“So, Luna has been sending you to keep an eye on me every freezy time?” asks 65536.

“Yup,” Gloom nods, “We always managed to clear out the path, but this year it seems that the timberwolves are especially hungry.”

“Waaaaait,” 65536 narrows its eyes in suspicion before gasping, “That means you’ve been around in this cold all this time while wearing only that?!” it points an accusing hoof- well, heavily clothed stump at Gloom’s chest.

“Yes, but we get an extra week off while we’re waiting for you in Ponyville, so it’s all good,” Night Hunter smirks, “Bat ponies, especially Nightguards, are a bit of spectacle there, so we get some services for free, and the hot tubs at the local spa are to die for.”

“Not to mention the exotic earth pony twins, Hunter,” Gloom winks at him.

“My mouth is sealed,” he replies.

“Nooo no no no no!” 65536 runs around, poking each bat pony in various places, “This has to feel so cold! You have no sweater, no hats, caps, cowls, not even socks and mittens!”

“It’s okay, we have these,” Night Hunter pulls out a necklace hidden behind his breastplate, the ornament of which being a rock with a glowing orange spiral carved into it, “Luna’s charms for winter missions-”

“I know what those are!” huffs 65536, loosening two of its scarves to pull at strings around its neck and reveal three similar glowing rocks, “But no, this isn’t right!” it trots to its cart and opens the smaller container, reaching in to pull out two soft bundles, “You don’t need to be sneaky anymore so you’re getting my reserve mittens and wooly hats!” it sits down, offering one bag in each foreleg.

“We are fine, 65536,” Gloom chuckles, “It’s practice anyw-”

“Don’t make me pull rank on ya!” the drone pouts at them, “I can also wibble, but I’m giving you a fair chance first.”

“What do you mean by pulling rank?” Night Hunter chuckles, “I think we would know if Luna promoted you. I’m pretty sure Gloom would shout it from Canterlot rooftops, actually.”

“Shut it,” grumbles Gloom.

“But we’re not in Canterlot, are we?” 65536 grins victoriously, “Out here I’m the ambass- boss- bomb- sadist- no…” it concentrates before slowly pronouncing, “ambassador to the Changeling Hive, and that’s a diplomatic position which means I totally can ask any local law enforcement for assistance. I’m doing that,” it scratches its head when faced with two stern stares, “Umm, please? My leggos are getting chilly just by watching you wearing only that,” it waves the bags again, “Mittens and caps? You know you wanna.”

“Oh screw it! I can barely feel my hooves,” Gloom breaks first, trotting over accompanied by 65536’s growing smile. To her surprise, the bag contains a dry, warm cloth to wipe everything off, a set of four mittens, and a leathery, waterproof outer cover for each one, “How is it so dry and warm?”

“I spent a ton of shinies on this special boxy. It can straight up fall into water and be completely fine,” it points at another four runic rocks stuffed inside a glass bottle in the personal box,“and Luna didn’t give me just three of those amulets, but last time I tried to wear all of those my sweater caught fire, so I keep the rest here in case I need to change my clothes. I think Luna might have overdone it a bit this year.”

“She’s worried sick every year when you leave,” Night Hunter pats 65536 as thanks while putting on his new clothes. They barely fit due to the sheer size difference, but they’re still a blessing in this weather.

“I can relate,” Gloom nods.

“Awww,” 65536 gives her a hug, “But I gotta do this, and freezy time is the best time because Luna and Princess Celestia close the court proceedings to spend time together. Plus, as you said - it’s training,” 65536 smacks its chest.

“What’s in there anyway?” Night Hunter nods to the bigger crate.

“The main reason why I do this in freezy time - presents!” 65536 beams at him, “I save almost all the shinies I earn over the year because, you know, I don’t need to eat your food and I live in the barracks, and when I start planning to go back to the hive I buy all the fun stuff I can find plus a ton of noms for the drones. Speaking of which,” it takes back the now empty bags from the Nightguards, “I’m already almost a day late due to the snow, so I should get going.”

“We can help you with that cart,” Night Hunter passes by the drone, examining the harness, “That should help with catching up.”

65536 ponders objecting, but Gloom boops its nose, momentarily resetting its train of thought.

“Take it as thanks for the clothes,” she says, “We’re almost at the edge of the Badlands anyway, so lead the way.”

“Alrighty!” 65536 admits defeat, but the prospect of getting to the hive on time after all is much too tempting.

***

Rapid thudding of hooves echoes through a tunnel different from the one currently occupied by the one remaining drone fleeing from the flood of ravenous centipedes. While this noise feels no less frantic, the thoughts of the galloping drone are much more focused and calculating as it navigates a very delicately laid out path that’s, strangely enough, not stored in the hive mind but only in its own.

Remember the course, 99066. Every second counts.

Aaand left in thirty-four steps!

The tunnel bends a little earlier than that, but waiting a second or so allows the drone to maintain its speed by sliding along the right side of the bend, its carapace grinding against the smooth rock wall.

The weight on its back belonging to a large egg of roughly three-quarters of its size sat there and glued to its carapace with goop ensures the drone that despite its rapid rush and risky maneuvers it hasn’t lost its cargo.

Now ahead as quickly as possible, careful of the dent on step hundred and thirty-four. Could it be used for a speed boost next time? Maybe, it could save a fraction of a second on the next segment. It’s risky, though. If I trip there I may as well reset until the next egg. Eh, there’s a cavern full of eggs still waiting, so I have more than enough attempts ahead of me.

The drone gallops through darkness lit only faintly by its bioluminescent teal eyes as quickly as it can with the egg on its back, until its own mental map lines up with a recent addition to the general hive mind map - a strange, red, straight line ending in an arrow directly connecting its origin with a tunnel several floors down.

Okay, here goes the run killer. Don’t mess the sequence up this time.

There it is - two pony lengths of a tunnel where the right wall isn’t smoothed out and gently sloping upwards like everywhere else, rather it remains the old, jagged style before drones started rebuilding the tunnels in the new, life-saving way.

However, unlike on the personal hive map, there definitely isn’t any corridor splitting off from there, only the solid, chunky, rock wall.

Now, focus.

The drone decelerates by grinding its side against the smooth section of the wall to avoid potentially hurting itself on the rough part while still maintaining as much speed for as long as possible. With its few final steps it stops to a halt. Without any visible reason, it presses its side tightly against the wall, jumps several times into it without any effect other than scratching its carapace, repeatedly squats three times, takes a step forward, directly into the wall and…

*Plop!*

…vanishes without a trace.

Author's Note

GET READY FOR WEEKS OF SETUP!

(A)Way (from) home: 3

With a final push down a snowy ramp, the two bat ponies, one changeling drone, and an overfilled cart leave the dark treeline behind them. 65536 takes a deep breath through its scarves and slowly lets it out in relief.

“I might actually make it,” says the drone and turns around to face the two Nightguards now openly escorting it and occasionally helping push it, “Mister Night Hunter, I’ll take it from here.”

“Are you sure? It’s dark, snowing, and there’s no road,” the broad bat pony looks around at the uninterrupted white sheet of snow spreading into the distance, “It’ll be a pain to pull the cart through all that.”

“Ah hah!” 65536 beams, or at least its face scarves move, “I got a thingy just for that which makes this part the easiest,” it climbs onto the cart and pulls out a long and thin package stuffed by its edge. When it unwraps the tarp, Gloom examines the four smooth planks with tips bending upwards which were inside.

“Are those skis?” she asks, genuinely impressed by the drone’s forethought.

“Yup!” 65536 nods and starts taking off the cart’s wheels without any tools.

“I’ve been thinking,” comments Night Hunter as he watches 65536 fiddle with wooden pegs and loose screws, cleverly designed to be easily replaceable without any tools, “Where did you get this cart? It’s an impressive level of ingenious design to be so easily assembled and repaired without even a hammer. You had a different one last winter, didn’t you?”

“Yup, I left that one to 99111 for parts. It designed this new one for me during my last visit as a present. It’s a very smart drone. Of course, we didn’t have any materials to build it in the hive, so I had to draw the plans on paper from memory back home and give those to a nice earth pony woodworker who has a shop in the mountainside quarter. It’s made entirely of wood reinforced with goop so that if anything breaks while I’m going through the forest I can always find the materials to fix it,” 65536 affixes the first ski to the bottom where the wheel used to be and moves onto the next spot. When Night Hunter raises the cart a little to ease 65536’s access, the drone adds, “Thank you.”

“Is that a greenhouse?” asks Gloom, squinting left towards a glass construction the size of a larger shed a short distance from the edge of the forest and a couple hundred pony lengths away from them, discernible only due to being the only lit up thing within sight, and even then it’s a sickly green shimmer making the bat pony slightly uneasy.

“Yup,” 65536 nods as it ceaselessly works on refitting the cart, “I heard that the Queen and Miss Gem did some talking regarding growing ingredients for Miss Gem’s work and the Queen arranged that greenhouse to be built earlier this year. 57999 was supposed to add tending to the plants inside in addition to working the poppy patch further east.”

“Ah,” Gloom’s voice turns apprehensive, “Is that where your friend who died on that trip two years ago used to work?”

Some semblance of heavy weight finally creeps into 65536’s tone when it replies, “36658, yes.”

Nothing else.

The following silence is only disturbed by the wind and endless scratching and clicking of 65536 finishing refitting ski number three and the crunching of snow as it moves to the final one.

“I was stupid to bring that up, sorry,” says Gloom after a while.

“What happened happened,” says 65536, “Besides, 36658 saved everyone else on that island, and there’s nothing a drone would want more than to help. It’s just…” the drone pauses, “Losing someone important is a weird thing. High Score, Mister Sharp, 36658. I often still feel like the same drone who left the hive because the Queen promised us we’d earn a bunch of love from those mythical creatures called ponies. We would know that every time we saw someone it could be the last time, and we were fine with it, that it was just how life worked. I don’t know why, but now it’s much more difficult to get over it,” it sighs, shaking its head, “Nevermind. It’s as 387 said and as Luna said about Mister Sharp - the important thing is that what they did lives on.”

Gloom pats the drone’s head as it resumes working. Seeing the drone in a way she would her own foal often makes her forget that it’s seen more death and dealt with more loss in its brief six years of life than she did in her… longer one. Don’t ask a lady her age.

As if on cue, when 65536 finishes refitting the cart a small figure becomes visible leaping through the snow from the direction of the greenhouse towards them. Gloom tenses up, same as Night Hunter, but they quickly relax when the incoming hopper gets closer and reveals itself to be another drone, this one wrapped in what looks like a mix of chewed off rags and a carpet, the remains of several cardboard boxes mashed together on its head, and… yes, those are two actual, heavily scratched and dented, metal bracers around its forelegs. Despite the mismatched and generally dishevelled look, the approaching drone is grinning from ear to ear until it stops nearby, its jaw dropping and eyes going wide while it examines the two bat ponies, namely the comparatively huge Night Hunter with a drawn-out:

“Whoooah!”

“Heya, 57999! I was wondering if I’d reach your hive link,” 65536 manages to finish loading both wheels onto the cart during the time of 57999 staring at the Nightguards in amazement and them at it with a mix of amusement and uncertainty. While their experience with drones is that they are generally friendly, their experience with changelings remaining loyal to the hive is… mixed, and neither Gloom nor Night Hunter want to do something which would get reported to Chrysalis herself as a diplomatic misstep.

“Woooow…” repeats 57999, still eyeing Night Hunter.

“That’s Mister Night Hunter, and that’s Miss Gloom,” 65536 walks over to the standing trio, “They’re Nightguards like me.”

With 65536 in view, 57999 finally snaps out of its reverie.

“Oh, right! Like you told us, umm, butt ponies!” when faced with a sudden frown from Night Hunter, it backs off, stuttering, “Wait no, what was the offishul name? Uhh, right! Testicles!” 57999 forces a now clearly nervous smile.

“Bat ponies and thestrals, 57999,” 65536 corrects it, and both Nightguards relax immediately, “Totally different words.”

“Ohhhh, goop…” 57999 backs off, scratching its head, “Sorry. My head doesn’t work all that well when I’m nervous and so far from everyone else. Too much experimenting with agonyslayers and other stuff, I think.”

“Wouldn’t this batch be miseryeradicators or something similar?” asks 65536.

“Nah,” 57999 shakes its head, “That was 36658’s thing. I like to keep it simple - head agonyslayers, leggo agonyslayers, and so on. I can make goop that you don’t gotta eat now too! It really heals, not just stops you from feeling bad. Uses up so much less love than normal healing even if it takes longer. It’s great for all the broken and crushed bits. Now to just figure out something for all the chomped off chunks.”

“Holy holes!” 65536 gasps, “That’s amazing! High Score would be proud and 36658 jealous.”

“Yup!” 57999 grins, finally in its territory again, “The Queen was so happy she scheduled 99874 and 99338 to take turns helping me! That means that if there are sticky biters around, one of us can go call for help while the other draws their attention. Working here is almost safe these days!” 57999 waves its forelegs and smacks its chest with one, “I even got all this to stay warm and it makes it harder for sticky biters to nibble on me. Tested on a medium one! My leggos have been a bit numb since, but I still got the right number of 'em,” 57999’s grin grows into a victorious smile.

Out of nowhere, Gloom leans closer and asks in a somewhat deranged tone: “Can I hug you?”

“Huh?” 57999 tilts its head and looks at 65536 and back at Gloom, “Is that a trick question? I can see you have all your hugging parts.”

“She means if she’s allowed to,” explains the guard drone, “Ponies who don’t know each other aren’t supposed to touch without asking.”

57999 gasps in horror.

“Why would I ever say no to a hug?!”

“I think that’s a yes, Miss Gloom,” 65536 chuckles, and 57999 finds itself squeezed by the bat pony mare like a tube of toothpaste. It wraps its forelegs around her as well and presses its head against her neck after pushing the cardboard ‘helmet’ away.

Night Hunter, however, looks into the distance before nudging 65536.

“It’s getting darker and I can feel the wind picking up. You’re up for a storm in a few hours at best. Are you sure you don’t want our help?”

65536 shakes its head.

“The big rule is - no unannounced visitors. The Queen was very specific about that one. Besides, freezy time is the safest for travelling through the Badlands because all the nasty gribblers are asleep. It’ll just be me and the storm and I got all the clothes Luna forced me to take with me so I should get to the hive by the morning just fine.”

“Then we won’t keep you,” Night Hunter sits down and pulls 65536 into a brief hug which the drone happily returns. When it’s over, Night Hunter calls out, “Gloom, we’re leaving!”

The mare breathes out heavily before letting go of 57999.

“Do your best to stay safe, little guy,” she boops its nose.

“Doing all I can to keep my bits attached and all the squishy stuff on the inside,” 57999 reports happily

“Are you coming with me, 57999?” asks 65536.

“Nope! I still gotta melt a bunch of snow and water the plants. I normally use a tunnel that leads back home, but do you want me to catch up while you’re still on the way and help?” it nods towards the overloaded cart.

“No, it’s fine. Pulling this through a storm is all just a part of the training,” 65536 waves at everyone and starts pulling the cart-sled again, “See you all later!”

“See ya, 65536! Bye, Miss Gloom. Bye, Mister Night Hunter!” 57999 turns around and hops away through the deep snow, back towards the greenhouse.

“They always get me,” Gloom mumbles when they’re out of ear shot, “Every time I hear any of them cheerfully talk about some horrible mistreatment or deadly danger they’ve been through, I just want to grab them to make sure it can’t happen ever again and I never want to let go.”

“That’s one of the reasons why you’re a top Nightguard, Gloom.”

With a jump, the two bat ponies take off into the air and quickly blend into the darkness.

(A)Way (from) home: 4

This specific cavern is beyond special, firstly by not being a cavern at all despite being underground. In fact, it could be mistaken for the Canterlot castle’s throne room if one ignored the lack of windows, white paint, gold foil everywhere, a throne, or… most things, really. At least it’s bigger and roughly the same shape, plus it boasts three balconies lining the walls, forming one floor each.

Oh, and a giant slide leading from the back of the topmost one all the way down into a pool of green jelly. Extremely bouncy green jelly, judging by the happily squee-ing changeling drone who skips like a rock along its surface after being launched by the slide and landing in a groove stuffed with strange white webbing mixed with green goop.

The place is so big that even with the roughly hundred or so hive drones split into groups of various sizes busy with rather eclectic activities there’s more than enough space for everyone. Some drones are surrounded by unidentified bits and bobs, sticks, stones, even the occasional rough gem, busy with trading. Some are embroiled in tactical battles of figurines of everything from armed changelings and ponies to monstrous tentacle blobs of varied quality made from goop on battlegrounds drawn with chalk on the stone floor. A large group of drones is in formation in the back, tightly connected through their hive links and doing what to a knowledgeable observer would be a version of basic yoga, with one walking among them and correcting failures of form which they might not see.

The walls of the cavern are covered with a mix of scratched-in scribbles and writing, containing useful phrases like “a chair is for sitting on, not sleeping under, but can be used that way” followed by a tiny pictogram of said piece of furniture. Something as basic wouldn’t make sense to a ranked changeling, but the hive mind space reserved for knowledge which the drones derived over time is rather limited and archiving anything that can be written down in a resilient and accessible manner to avoid more love drain is critical. The writings are periodically interrupted by small, beehive-like alcoves filled with, frankly, anything, which are the belongings of drones who aren’t trading right now. These days there is no need for stashes hidden in the dangerous tunnels so that ranked changelings wouldn’t simply go and take anything they find useful, and all drones need is somewhere to keep their stuff in one place and within grabbing distance.

In contrast to the comparative grandeur of the place, the entrance is a singular crack in the front wall, enough only for a drone to comfortably slip through. The first thing such an entering drone sees is a raised dais with two larger than life, although not by much, drone statues, one in the front looking ahead with a smile and a determined expression, and a scribble on the dias stating “High Score” with no explanation as if everyone should know. The second statue is of a heavily scarred drone bending under the presumed crushing weight of a chunk of rock on its back. The scribbles under its forelegs state “The Guide”, and nothing else.

The final place of interest is the only piece of actual “technology” in the cavern - a vault-like door made of hardened goop in the back, sliding sideways on stone rails below and above it. Don’t laugh, it’s still tech.

Behind the door lies a short, narrow tunnel splitting into four rooms, each blocked off by a smaller green door each. What lies behind those is a mystery, because a scribble by the big door in the High Score’s cavern states: “Ask 99111 or 99859 if you can come in. Boom danger!”

Unlike anywhere else in the hive, there is a quiet musical tune playing through the hive links of the present drones, its strength carefully curated to reach only around the High Score’s cavern and not waste unnecessary love. It, however, gets suddenly interrupted by a mental warning ringing collectively in everyone’s heads, which makes all drones look around, unsure what to do.

“Alarm in tunnel x1899q-d55d41! 99441. Pincery swarm noodles.”

“Good job, 99380,” the mental communication continues, its overhead identifying the source as a drone ranked 10000, “Response team, let’s go! That’s the Queen’s special project. We don’t have an Angry Shiny nearby so gear up.”

Three drones stand up from their respective activities, rushing towards an alcove by the exit in which there are several strange, small goop eggs seemingly containing two more goop spheres, each of a slightly different shade of green. Two of the drones grab two eggs each, sticking them into free foreleg holes, and the final one grabs a harness containing a barrel connected to a nozzle.

10000, wincing in discomfort and with gritted teeth, limps to the cavern entrance. Its right hind leg is stiff and most of its carapace is covered in a visible web of cracks, seemingly barely holding together.

“10000, you shouldn’t come,” says the harness-wearing drone when 10000 joins the trio by the entrance, “You’re barely even moving already and-”

“I’m fine, 99158,” 10000 cuts it off, nodding to the device on 99158’s back, “You’re still the slowest one with that on your back.”

“We don’t have time!” 99911, another drone present, says in a forceful tone, “10000, you can come but you put me in charge of the response team so you obey me, okay?”

“Of course,” 10000 nods, reaching for one of the eggs.

“You’re on an- analys- thinking duty, 10000. You get the glowgoop!” orders 99911. 10000 briefly ponders objecting, but it would only make things worse in a time-sensitive situation, so it reaches for a longer green stick instead. As it does so, 99911 finally speaks out loud for the first time, to the cheering of the drones within earshot, “99158, 99112, 10000 let’s go save our buddy!”

***

Situated to the north of the Badlands and west from the forest about which geographers still argue whether it belongs to the Hayseed Swamp to the east or to the Everfree to the northwest is a small town going by the name Dodge Junction. More a collection of rickety shacks with some apple orchards around than a full town, actually. Its most important part, however, is a train station - the final stop on a long line of train tracks leading across Equestria, one which barely any trains visit due to the vast majority turning around in Appleloosa.

Dodge Junction had been a forgotten hole pretty much since its founding, but in recent years, specifically ever since the peace treaty between Equestria and the changeling hive, its proximity to the Badlands meant that it received occasional visits from changelings sent on missions for the hive. Not that the volume of changelings was particularly different from before, but now the ponies of Dodge Junction at least knew about them.

Said knowledge is the only reason why the solitary sleepy stallion dozing off behind the counter of a booth made from wooden planks barely holding together doesn’t freak out when the sound of hoofsteps on wood wakes him up. With a jolt, he looks up, spotting a duo of changelings, one a small kind which he hasn’t seen before and one the size and shape of a young mare. Both are wearing ragged backpacks held together in places with some green mess, the smaller one’s being nearly half of the changeling’s size. The mare’s one is normal, but there can’t just be a normal changeling attached to it, noooo. This one is wearing what looks like a small rectangle of blackboard on a string around her neck, and her carapace is covered in faint grey stripes akin to those of a zebra. Seeing their glowing teal eyes at this late time of night, with only one lamp lighting the entire wooden platform excluding the lightbulb hanging from the ceiling of the booth, can’t be healthy for the poor booth pony’s heart.

The mare sits down, turns the tablet hanging on her neck around, scribbles something on it, and finally shows it to the smaller changeling who reads it, nods, and hops onto the bench under the lamp. With one more swipe of her hoof, she wipes her slate and trots towards the now interested booth pony, stopping in front of the counter.

“Can I help ya?” he asks, professionalism winning over the horror movie image of two singing twins approaching him to devour his soul creeping through his mind.

The mare scribbles on her tablet again:

[Tikkit please. Two. Trade shiny for it.]

“Uhh, a… ticket? T’ Appleloosa?” he leans across the counter.

*Nod nod nod!*

“Tha’ll be forty-six bits,” he says.

The changeling mare tilts her head, seemingly processing the message.

“Do yer kind even use money?” the stallion momentarily feels silly. Of course they have to know what money is. This is a species known for their craftiness and threat…

…and yet both present changelings feel alien not in a predatory way but rather in the way of someone put into a completely new situation who is trying to figure out what to do.

After a moment of thought, the mare takes off her backpack, briefly rummages through it, and finally pulls out several gold coins which she puts on the counter. A slate with [46?] written on it slides next to the coins afterwards.

“Oh, yea, yea,” the stallion shakes his head, still stunned by the entire situation, swipes the coins, and presents two tickets to Appleloosa, “Here ya go.”

The mare stashes them into her backpack and trots over to the bench where the smaller one is patiently waiting…

…and waiting…

…and waiting.

Near midnight, the stallion closes the booth and goes home, thankful for the evening work of the local weather pegasi who prevented a blizzard from taking the town by storm and pushed the worst of it towards the forest. As he approaches the bench where the smaller changeling is sitting up with all four legs wrapped around its bulky backpack while the mare is sitting at attention, both covered in light dusting of snow, she looks at him with a patient expression of someone waiting for the situation to unfold.

“Umm, little lady, the train ain’t coming until t’morrow mornin’.”

*Scribble scribble*

[Sleepy time?]

“I guess ya could take a nap ‘fore it’s here,” he shrugs, “But there ain’t any hotels in Dodge or nothing, and it’s getting pretty cold here.”

[Goodnight!]

“Ah- nevermind,” seeing the changeling mare pull out a thin blanket that’s more holes than fabric and slip under the bench, quickly followed by the second changeling, he shakes his head, “Night, I guess.”

“Goodnight!” says the other changeling with a cheerful wave of its hoof.

The stallion flips a switch on the lamp, plunging the platform into complete darkness with the exception of two pairs of shimmering teal eyes under a bench.

The eyes blink.

He hears a squeaky yawn followed by rustling of the blanket.

“...goodnight, Smiley…”

*scribble scribble*

The eyes close.

A puzzling morning: 1

If there’s something that hasn’t changed much for the changeling hive in ages it’s the throne room on the top level. “Much” being the keyword there, as certain touches of improvement can be spotted by a keen eye. The anthill structure of the walls remains as well as the building material made from resin mixed with ground up rocks to allow changelings the opening of new passages by simply draining love from an area. However, a keen observer would see that some of the sections of the walls have been repaired recently, something thought impossible for a long time due to changeling inability to create fine, nearly dust-like gravel to mix with their natural resin.

Ever since moving into the Badlands, the black, couch-sized and somewhat even couch-shaped throne has remained the centerpiece of the throne room, now lit by pale glow coming from the skylights in the ceiling and giving the moonlight a green tint. With no pegasi tending the weather in the Badlands, nature can often throw a curveball or two, and the bright moon after hours of a powerful blizzard is one of them. Despite the changelings’ recent crawling out of the dark age of knowledge and technology, no one still knows what mineral the throne is made from. Just like with its surroundings, the gentle touch of upgrades can be seen even here, this time in the form of two fluffy, silk, purple pillows, one on each end, and a thin but long blanket of matching material neatly folded on it.

Alright, actual new stuff is still beyond rare, but there is something - a primitive fireplace, just a square made of perfectly smoothly chiseled stones with one side open and a cast iron sheet on top. Fire is crackling in the fireplace and a stove mixed into one, and an iron pot is steaming on the metal cover. The floor around the fireplace is scorched in a rather large radius, but right now there’s only some kindling of sticks and one larger piece of wood on fire inside it.

The pre-Canterlot invasion military presence is nowhere to be seen, as right now the vast room hosts only a trio of changelings, all sitting on green pillows on the ground in front of the throne which, on closer inspection, look somewhat gooey. Comfortable, though, otherwise the trio of changelings wouldn’t be sitting on them around a small, round table occupied by three dented and abused but still serviceable metal mugs of liquid steaming in the cold air. Two of the changelings are mares. One must be an infiltrator thanks to her overall curvier body shape despite lacking mane or a tail. The second one is more difficult to guess, sporting the athletic build which could be a baseline for moderate physical activity as well as seduction. Having a long, grey mane and tail hint towards the latter, though. The third changeling, the stallion, is clearly a warrior with his main distinguishing feature being his dark, mossy green carapace.

Unlike the two mares, he seems agitated, tapping his foreleg on the floor with a frown on his face.

“I’m going out, this is taking too long!” he shoots a glare towards the throne room’s exit.

“Calm down, 387,” says the changeling mare with no visual customization patiently, clearly used to this, “You know as well as I do that 65536 takes its trip here seriously and as an important part of its physical training. The Queen told us to trust it after the second year, and that’s what we’re going to do.”

387 opts for taking a sip and grumbles something incomprehensible into its mug.

“99, support me here, will you?” she nudges the grey-maned mare.

“As much as I’d like to, 156, I’m a bit worried about 65536 myself. It should have arrived yesterday and with the blizzard…” replies 99, glancing towards the exit, “Where is the Queen anyway?”

“She left a couple hours ago,” 156 shrugs, “She said she was ‘taking 387’s advice’.”

“Taking my advice?” the warrior looks at her, “Is it Hearth’s Warming alrea- holes, exactly the wrong figure of speech to use there.”

“I was wondering if she decided to take a break,” 99 rubs her chin, “You know, a moment of peace and quiet to plan ahead without having to deal with day to day life of the hive thanks to your management.”

“I suppose that played a role as well,” 156 nods with a smile.

“Which particular piece of advice did I give her that would make her disappear into holes-know-where when the equivalent of Princess Luna’s adopted foal is supposed to be visiting and, let me repeat, is missing?!” 387 throws his forelegs into the air in desperation.

“Her exact words were - if the overreacting smartass doesn’t figure it out, just let him foam at the mouth and steam,” 156 gives 387 a smug smirk.

“That’s it! To holes with her, I’m going outside to look for 65536!” 387 stands up, scowling, “156, give me a warrior and an infiltrator who specializes in long-range communication.”

“Sit down,” 156 doesn’t stop smiling, “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Oh really? How do you intend to stop me?” 387 can’t keep himself angry at 156 no matter how hard he tries, so his expression turns into disbelief, “Come ooooon!”

99, despite her rank, remains quiet and listens to technically her subordinates but in reality her superiors in both experience and the Queen’s unofficial designation.

“Well,” 156 tilts her head, her smile growing even more pleasant, “If I was that kind of a changeling, I could call on a group of warriors to pile on you. In this case, however, I think I’ll use a secret weapon I prepared just for this situation,” she walks over to 387 who tenses up, ready for anything, and plants a kiss on his mouth with the speed and precision of a striking snake.

99 snickers into her mug, earning 387’s stern glance.

“What was that for? I’m pretty sure you can't control or paralyze me or-” 387 immediately mentally checks his body for any signs of trouble.

“That was because I like you despite you being a pain in the ass. And, whether you believe it or not, so does the Queen,” 156 turns away, returning to her pillow, “Also, to distract your paranoid head from one thing.”

“Which is?” 387 decidedly ignores the comment about Chrysalis.

“The report that our sentries by the entrance spotted 65536 a minute ago heading towards them, safe and sound despite the night’s blizzard. That guy’s impossible to keep down. So…” she raises her mug, “Ready to admit defeat?”

387 checks the recent hive mind traffic and quickly exchanges a few flickering images with the warrior and infiltrator pair stationed by the hive’s main entrance. He didn’t think 156 would be lying, but some habits die harder than others. In the end, he sighs and sits back down, defeated but relieved.

156 leans over the table and pats his head, earning a grumble.

“See? Maybe if you can’t ever trust the Queen, you can believe in 65536,” she says.

“I suppose-”

387’s admission gets interrupted by an appearance of a hive link entirely out of nowhere coupled with the pop of air near the ceiling being displaced by a drone suddenly materializing and immediately dropping in an arc towards the ground.

“WOOO! THIS IS GONNA MAKE FOR A HUUUGE SKIP!” yells the drone before it hits the ground with a terrifyingly sickening crack of shattering chitin, completely forgetting to use its wings out of sheer excitement, “Owww!” it dizzily raises its foreleg and waves it, “Summa bits arokay!”

Author's Note

A short one, but the rest of chapter 2 is longer. I'm aiming for 2k-ish chunks per update overall for the story or at least until I have a good enough buffer to start updating in more consistent chunks that aren't just "a scene" or two shorter scenes, but that's far away. I'm kinda in a creativity rut and I'm worried it shows.

A puzzling morning: 2

A drone whose hive link identifies it as 99000 slides the door in the back of the High Score Cavern open and creeps through, seemingly disregarding the “Boom danger!” written above. The door itself isn’t made of just goop, as its darker green color and brown tint hint at, and 99000 assesses the material with a touch of the handle as it slides it back, closing this much smaller tunnel off again.

The material retains love much better. Must be one of the new “alloys”.

A quick check of the hive mind confirms the idea, identifying the mix as iron ore dust and resin - far from the more resilient combinations but one easy to make underground. With the overabundance of magically-treated natural building materials, Equestria uses a surprisingly small amount of iron so the hive doesn’t bother mining and exporting it, zebras are too far for a viable trade route, and griffons… have trust issues. It would be different if drones could learn to smelt iron and eventually forge steel, but that would require mining coal deposits as well, and larger air vents, which would lower both security and structural integrity. Far from impossible, but still not worth it over gems which an infiltrator can carry hidden in a leg hole and finance an entire mission. Still, a material that was once a waste of space now serves to significantly lower the hive’s love-replenishment requirements while giving the drones something new to trade among each other or, in the case of several technologically inclined individuals, experiment with.

99000 slowly walks through the short tunnel, looking from side to side while skimming over magazines-worth of scribbles on the smooth walls and the ceiling. Unlike the walls of the High Score cavern with their wisdom of “a pony looks like a changeling, but fluffy and without leg holes. Adding holes does NOT change them into a changeling and makes them significantly less friendly”, these are all formulas, numbers, and entirely indecipherable angular carvings. There are four more doors of the same making, two on each side of the tunnel, and all closed. A brief check of nearby hive links reveals three other drones - 99111, 99380, and 99856, the former two entirely absorbed in whatever they’re doing and the latter-

99000 hears a sound akin to a wet burst of a large bubble, followed by:

“Oh? No no no no! Eeep! STOP CREEPING TO ME! BAD FIZZIES!”

-slamming the closer door on the right open so hard they rattle in their rails, jumping out with a panicked expression while gasping for breath, and quickly sliding it back, seemingly completely oblivious to a clump of green foam sliding down the side of its barrel and melting a deep groove in its carapace along the way.

Despite all the hive’s recent advancements, drone “work safety regulations” is still just a three-word phrase prone to mispronunciation, but the drone who just only semi-successfully escaped a deadly, acidic situation is wearing goggles with a thick frame made of polished stone and goop instead of protective glass.

“Note to self - do NOT mix attempt 442 with bubble brick for washy ti- huh?” mutters 99856, finally noticing the foam as it splatters against the stone floor and remains hissing there, “One, two, three, four-” 99856 counts up to sixteen until all that remains from the foam is a wet spot, all while being observed by 99000 somewhat stunned by the entire situation, “Melty fizzies poof up to cover a large area from only a small blob - find an empty cavern later and see the limits,” it looks at its forelegs, the chitin of which is covered in small, deep holes presumably caused by the sputtering of the original mix, “Very, veeery melty against chitin. More tests needed-”

99856 takes its goggles off, hooks the frame through an available leg hole, and finally notices 99000 just standing there and staring.

“Oh, hi!” it smiles, “Sorry I didn’t notice you earlier,” it shakes the goggles, “It’s not the easiest to see with these on but they sure are helpful in case of unexpected, uhh, anything, really,” 99856 tilts its head as the apprehensive drone just kind of examines it. Not that it saps any of the enthusiasm out of the drone “chemist’s” voice, “So, what brings you here?”

“I’m just… exploring,” says 99000 after a second of hesitation, “I’m new.”

“Curious one, eh?” 99856 beams, “Nice! Wanna see what I’m doing? I mean, 99111 is here too but I wouldn’t disturb it while it’s working,” it nods to the doors on the left side of the tunnel, “It plans and thinks a lot because it knows a ton of things. I’m more just slapping various goops and dusts together and seeing what happens. I’m learning a lot, though!”

“What was that?” 99000 nods towards the closed door through which 99856 ran out, “Some kind of a weapon?”

99856 chuckles and rubs its head.

“Huuuh, I guess it could be used that way?” it says in a surprised tone of someone who apparently never thought about it, “I mean, it wasn’t meant to be. I was trying to use 99111’s bubbly cleaning goop to get rid of the stains left over after my last experiment -that one was supposed to be a boomy but it was just a sticky- aaand the bubbles sorta… multiplied and started eating other stuff I dropped,” it pokes the smooth piece of floor where the now entirely dissipated glob of bubbles dropped from it, “Hmmm, it does clean stuff well, though, now that I think about it. Maybe a bit too well.”

“But if you threw that mix at another changeling…” 99000 frowns at the other drone.

“Goop! You’re right, we can’t let that happen,” 99856 nods, its thoughtful expression turning serious, “I gotta figure out how to keep it contained,” It examines the door it ran out of by looking closely at it and pressing its hooves against it. To a drone, that’s enough to assess the structural integrity of a material and confirm that the door hasn’t been damaged, “Goop reinforced with dusty-red-” 99856 winces and taps its head, “-with i-ron ore dust seems to be working just fine.”

As 99000 just keeps watching, puzzled, 99856 continues its non-stop chatter:

“Makes me wonder if the fizzies inside are gone,” it slips the door open a little and the acidic foam immediately starts pushing through the crack, splattering 99856’s hooves once more, “Ouch! Nope nope nope nope! That’s some extreme cleaning,” the drone slides the door into a closed position immediately before smiling at 99000 again, “You wanna see my lab, newbie?”

“Definitely,” says 99000, “Do you have more of these acids and explosives? I mean melties and boomies.”

“Oooh, nice! High rank words. Sounds like your head is good at tapping into the hive mind,” 99856 attempts to pat the head of the other drone who steps away to avoid it, which makes the chemist’s smile fade a little.

“You just touched the acid foam again,” 99000 explains, pointing at the hoof with its own.

“Oooooh!” 99856 smiles again, “Well noticed! You’re definitely going to be one of the smart drones. If you wanna figure out what your speciality is, talk to 10000 or 99380,” says the chemist with only genuine helpfulness in its voice, “I’m not sure where 10000 is, but 99380 is with 99111 in the workshop,” it nods to the left door, “They’re trying to figure out how to make a broken music box that 65536 brought last freezy time work again. Maybe you can have a chat after I’m done showing you my lab.”

99000 follows the chemist through the second right door of the tunnel which reveals a small room with low ceiling built in the classic new drone style of tunnel construction - slightly sloping walls as if one was inside a pyramid, floor covered in grooves for a non-slip grip, and everything that’s not floor covered in drone writing. Unlike the High Score cathedral, however, there’s furniture and equipment - three workbenches carved from a solid block of stone each using drone digging ability in a U pattern near the entrance with several glass bottles and beakers, some with labels still on.

99000 looks at one label close up. It reads “Zero Shards Glassworks, Lower Canterlot, 67 bits”.

65536 must have spent a good amount on this drone, considering the full set here.

A trio of bookshelves made of stone “planks” joined together with goop stand in the open space further back in such a way they wouldn’t cover any writing on the walls or the ceiling, and the shelves are stacked with stone tablets thinner than any pony tool could make, all covered in more writing. The final major part of the room are hoof-sized stone boxes containing various materials - powders, goop samples, wooden sticks, torn pieces of cardboard, anything unusual a curious drone could scrounge up in the hive.

Overall, it’s clear that since drones can clear layers off of any material as if it was dust on a solid surface, at some point during the past three years they realized that if there’s something plentiful deep underground, it’s stone, and drone ability to easily shape it makes it versatile. Of course, a pony observer wouldn’t see any of that because if there’s anything missing here it’s a light source. Drones, though, are completely okay just with their bioluminescent blue eyes and a hive mind map.

“This is impressive,” says 99000, wandering between the shelves, briefly picking one of the tablets and skimming the chemical formulas similar to those on the tunnel walls outside written on it in a clearly non-drone style of writing but still in a way a drone could read it.

“It took me, 10000, and 99111 a lot of time to put everything together in a way that would make sense. The tablets are copies I made of some of the guides from 99111’s smart box that the Queen told us to write down,” 99856’s voice is full of pride and joy, “We only did all that during breaky time, of course, and I had to trade a bunch of stuff I found and made for help in getting all the stone from the lower tunnels, but now I can kinda safely put all kinds of goops together in here and test them next door-”

Suddenly, 99856 sneezes and 99000 doesn’t fail to notice that the spray that comes out of the chemist’s nose is a suspiciously unhealthy mix of brown and green.

“Uh oh-” 99856 wipes its muzzle, winces, and looks down at its hoof covered in blood.

“Are you okay?” 99000 leans back, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” 99856 waves its hoof dismissively, “That happens with some melties. they kinda get into your nose as you breathe. It’s why I started wearing the goggles,” the drone seemingly recalls it left those hanging inside a leg hole and puts them on the nearest table, “I just gotta clean it out properly and get some tunnel air. Note to self - ask 10000 if we can build an air vent leading all the way up around here,” 99856 walks over to a jug -stone, obviously- by the wall that’s filled with dusty, dirty water, puts its muzzle to it, and draws the water into its nose before blowing it out along with a stream of bubbles.

“If your experiments are so dangerous,” asks 99000, calmly watching the process, “Could they be used against, let’s say, high ranks?” 99856’s muzzle shoots out of the water and the chemist sprays the load inside its nostrils towards 99000 with an expression of pure shock.

“...whaaaat…?”

Faced with that, 99000 adds an explanation:

“I heard stories about the old days when high ranks used to eat us. What if it happens again? Wouldn’t it be good if we could protect ourselves?”

99856 breathes out in relief and shakes its head.

“I heard the original stories from 36658 itself before it sacrificed itself to bring us the smart box and all the knowledge we’re learning these days. You probably haven’t heard those in full detail, being a newbie and all, but just using my experiments as weapons wouldn’t work. High ranks are super fast and super durable, so you wouldn’t even be able to throw a melty at them, and even if you hit by accident…” it shakes its head, “Then what? They’d just make their carapace non-meltable. On top of everything, they can just control you and make you not throw it. What a silly idea,” 99856 washes out its nose again, “I completely agree with 10000 that our best way to lose fewer drones during worky time is cooperating with the high ranks. The Queen supposedly said so herself, and 387 confirmed it, and he’s really nice. He even helped me test my first emergency cocoons and gave me extra love when we made those usable for everyone as a trade.”

“I guess…” says 90000.

99856 washes its hooves that are melted from the foam scatter into the point of looking porous, walks over to the new drone, and pats its head which makes 90000 wince again.

“Don’t worry, my hooves are all clean now. Look, if the old stories spooked you, go talk to 10000. It’s the smartest drone around and can tell you all the details,” 99856 walks over to the door out of the lab, “Wanna help me clean my testing site up? The fizzies should be going away by now. The last time I looked they were already poofing out a lot slower and there’s bound to be a serious mess on the floor,” 99856 pauses, "unless they really cleaned everything including themselves. Are those fizzies self-cleaning?”

“I… umm… I’m going to talk to 10000 as you said,” 99000 leaves the room and heads off towards the tunnel exit.

As the drone passes a door supposedly leading to 99111’s workshop, it opens, 99380 walks out, closes it behind itself, looks at 99000, smiles, and says:

“Hi, Your Majesty! What brings you here?”

99000 turns around with an expression of utter disbelief.

What the actual-? My hive link signature was PERFECT.

“...whaaaaa?” 99856 groans weakly, standing by its lab door and lost in processing of the new information.

Before its mind can come to any conclusions, Chrysalis slips into its link and immediately removes the last few seconds from its memory. While it only takes a blink of an eye and a fraction of a second, 99380 is gone when she’s done.

How? What? Where?

A quick check of the hive mind reveals 99380 inside the High Score cavern, talking to 99066 about some skipping thing entirely unrelated to her presence. In fact, there’s not a trace of any hive mind information traffic regarding her. All the drones are just… doing whatever they’re doing after their allotted work time is over.

What just happened?

99856, as if it just left its lab, continues walking to the testing site.

“Do you need help finding 10000?” it asks 99000, “The hive mind can be confusing the first few days. I know I had a terrible headache after I hatched.”

“N- No,” 99000, once again in incognito mode, stutters and walks away.

“Byyye!” 99856 waves at it until the other drone looks back and nods. When the chemist finds itself alone again, it taps into a special part of the drone-specific hive mind into which 99380 stored most of the songs it heard on the music box, and lets the hive mind pick one at random.

“Ooooh, fitting!” it grins and hums to the music inaudible outside of its head, “Winter wrap-up, winter wrap-up, let’s finish our holiday cheer-”

Chrysalis, however, feels none of the chemist’s peace of mind as she walks through the High Score Cavern filled to the brim by drones busy with their post-work activities and leaves via the drone-sized crack, shapeshifting back to her real body several tunnel bends later.

The previously… not entirely safe but mostly just overlooked drone tunnels are now making the chitin on the back of her neck crawl.

A puzzling morning: 3

“What the-” in the time it takes 99 to jump away from the table and gather herself after the 99012’s sudden appearance and drop from the ceiling, 156 and 387 recover from the surprise and are already standing next to the dazed and groaning drone.

“Explain!” 387 pulls the fallen drone up.

“Ughhh, splain what?” 99012 blinks out of sync, softly swaying from side to side, its current brain damage being the only reason why it’s even remotely calm in this situation, “Heee, you’re wobbly…”

“387, stop crowding the guy,” 156 pushes the warrior’s forelegs off of 99012 and takes about a minute to slowly pour love its way. No matter what the drone said it just dropped like a rock from a height that would leave a pony paraplegic for life in the best case scenario and it shows on its fragmented carapace, “Everything’s okay, everyone’s okay. No need to freak out.”

“It was just dumb luck that it didn't drop in here while Chrysalis was asleep. She’d probably think the drones are trying to assassinate her- no, stop looking at me like that! She literally said that to me once,” 387 crosses his forelegs on his chest and huffs when faced with the skeptical looks of 99 and 156.

“Let me handle this,” says 156, facing the recovering and now slightly nervous drone as it’s realized that it’s in the company of the hive’s top three changelings, with the exception of the Queen herself, “You, 99012.”

“Yes, umm, 156?” the drone gulps.

“How did you get up there?”

“Umm, I was experimenting with a new skip we found two days ago, 156. I had no idea it would lead here.”

“What’s-?” asks 387, immediately shut up by 156 slapping a hoof into his mouth and nudging him sideways with her head afterwards.

“Shush.”

“What’s a skip?” asks 156, not even needing to look at 387 to know his eye just twitched because that’s obviously what he wanted to ask.

“Uhh,” 99012 rubs its head, “I don’t really know what it is, but it’s an invisible thingy that, if you do the right thing, lets you skip walking through a whole bunch of tunnels. You just go ‘whoosh!’ and appear somewhere else.”

“Some kind of teleportation magic, maybe?” ponders 99, “Is that your special talent?”

“Nu uh!” 99012 shakes its head, “That’s the best part about quicktrotting - anyone can do it! We just sweep the tunnels -only during breaky time, of course!- with the whoomer 10000 brought from its shippy trip and when it starts whooming in the right way we know we found a skip and that’s where the tricky part comes in - figuring out what to do to get whooshed.”

“Slow down. What’s quicktrotting?” asks 156, “Like, running extra fast or…?”

“Oh… oh?” 99012 looks taken aback, “I thought you high ranks knew everything.”

“We have our own duties to take care of,” says 156, “As long as you drones keep fulfilling yours we don’t need to know every nons- new thing you make up. Now get to explaining.”

99012 beams with visible excitement at being able to talk about a subject near and dear to it.

“Quicktrotting is awesome! It started some two months ago with me and two of my buddies, 99066 and 99971, arguing about how to move eggs from x115-s77e to 66as7-eex12 the quickest. We each had a different idea so we did an egg each and compared times, but then we realized that you can run with an egg on your back in one of the longer tunnels, so we started trying that and we made a much better time even though the distance was longer. Long story short, we kept doing this until we shortened the time by a full fifteen minutes!”

“And how does teleportation fit into that?” asks 156.

“What’s telly-potion?” 99012 tilts its head.

“The whooshing, the skip,” 387 corrects her. When 99012’s eyes light up as it understands, 387 shoots 156 a smug smirk of a certified drone communication expert.

“Righty!” 99012 rubs its hooves with an excited smile, “So, 99111 figured something out about the whoomer, I can’t really understand what, and it found the first skip in cavern 225x49-2. That was maybe half a year ago,” 99012 scratches its head, “Few weeks ago, it figured out that if you do the right things at the skip, like jerky movements, jumps into the wall, or up-downs, you can whoosh to an entirely different place! So me and my buddies tested it and modern quicktrotting was hatched! We cut the egg carrying time from x115-s77e to 66as7-eex12 by thirteen minutes and twenty-four seconds! 99066 holds the current hive record at one minute and fifty-two seconds, but I’m coming for it!” 99012 ends its explanation with a determined smile.

“So that’s why the report stated we were done so quickly,” 156 nods, “And what do you do with all the saved time? Rest?”

“It’s still worky time,” 99012 looks at her as if she’s gone crazy, “We’re rebuilding all the old tunnels like 10000 said. It’s super slow work but a whole bunch of guys said it saved their carapaces! Plus, they’re much easier to gallop through, so we’re bound to shave the quicktrotting records even more.”

“So, that’s what the direct red lines on the hive map are?” asks 99.

“Yup!” 99012 nods, “We’ve found three so far-” it pauses and looks at the ceiling, “No, four. Can you please update the map? I can’t do it with 99380 busy all the way in the High Score cavern. The skip is here,” it pings a location on the hive map that’s over twenty levels down and hundreds of pony lengths away, “And the code is - press against the wall, jump, jump, push head into the ceiling, jump, and then walk directly into the wall. It looks like this in scribbles-” the hive links of the trio of high ranks receive a short sequence of arrows and symbols. Upon examination of the red arrows on the hive map, each origin seems to have such a line of scribbles next to it.

“Hmmm, do those ‘skips’ work in reverse? Let’s say if I wanted to get quickly down to the tunnels from here, could I just fly to the ceiling and do… something?” asks 99.

“Nope!” 99012 shakes its head, “We tried, but the whoomer doesn’t even whoom where you land,” 99012 simply waits for more questions, but it seems like the high ranks are tapped out, so it asks, “Uhh, can I go now? I think I gotta ask 57999 for some healing goop because breathing kinda hurts. Kinda a lot.”

99, 156, and 387 exchange shrugs before 156 nods and says:

“Off you go, and thank you for the information. Oh, one final thing - no one is to use this skip ever again unless it’s a life or death situation. If you startle the Queen even by accident she might not be as understanding as we are.”

“Oooooh, you’re right! I’ll tell 99380 to mark that one as a no go,” 99012 nods and gallops out of the throne room.

“Weird,” says 156 as she returns to the table and to her now cold drink.

“I’ll go test some of those skips out,” 99 stretches her legs, “An emergency set of one-way teleports accessible only to someone with the right knowledge sounds beyond useful. 387, take care of 65536 when it arrives, please.”

“Will do,” he nods.

“No, I’ll do it,” 156 shakes her head, “387, how about you gather some information on this… ‘whoomer’ thing from the drones?”

“I’ll go down later anyway when we know what 65536 has in store this year and whose help it’ll need. Two birds with one stone and all that.”

“Sounds good,” admits 156, “Let’s prepare to welcome our esteemed guest then, shall we?”

Author's Note

Accidentally uploaded the entire rest of chapter 2 earlier. Sorry if you got some weird notifications.
Still going with the super short, one-scene updates, but it's either that or longer time between chapters.

A puzzling morning: 4

Drone work-rest cycles used to be entirely disconnected from day and night until Chrysalis found it convenient to set up a poppy patch to sell the plant material for… medicine without the worry of changelings being discovered by ponies. Consider it strange or not, changelings never really had any use for gardening, so figuring out that sunlight was critical for plants to grow wasn’t as easy as it would be for an earth pony. These days, the cycles are somewhat synchronized due to the significantly lowered workload requires from the drones, which means that the slowly moving ball of clothes and caked-on snow with properly made goggles situated near its top part approaching the hive entrance managed to make the overnight trip from the edge of the Badlands, most of it in the worst weather imaginable, shortly after the start of sleepy time.

“Don’t approach. Don’t help,” 156’s response to the report of spotting 65536 rings through the hive links of the two changelings –a warrior and an infiltrator paired together in order to foster cooperation between the classes– posted on guard at the front entrance of the hive. They exchange a glance and a shrug. Every ranked changeling in the hive knows 65536 by now, and neither of the two would mind stretching their legs and helping the drone, but orders are orders. There are no orders regarding their exact position at the hive entrance, however, and the warrior ranked 3012 starts pacing from side to side in front of it.

“What are you doing?” asks 2119, the infiltrator, opting for talking vocally in order to save every potential scrap of love for internal heating. The blizzard might be over but the calm, clear, night sky isn’t making it much warmer.

“Getting the blood flowing,” replies 3012, “Aaand stomping the snow down a bit so that cart can slide on it easier.”

“We are not supposed to be helping,” comments the infiltrator, “156 was clear about that.”

“Who’s helping?” 3012 smirks, “I’m just preparing a more defensible position in case of an attack on the hive. Not my fault one extremely friendly drone might consider it helpful in a non-intrusive way and share tea- steaming hot tea with me later… like last winter if you remember. What surprises me is that an infiltrator, an expert class specializing in assessing threats to the hive, isn’t stomping around with- I thought so,” he finishes smugly as 2119 starts mirroring his movements.

“The hive must be ready for anything,” 2119 nods with a completely fake serious face, “Enemies are always looking for a moment of unpreparedness and it would be a terrible shame one of us couldn’t warn others in time due to getting stuck in the snow. Holes damn it! I can barely feel my legs.”

By the time 65536’s heavy breathing and the scraping of skis on snow can be heard, there’s a small ramp ready and waiting to ease the final stretch of the drone’s progress and guide it inside.

“Welcome to the hive, Ambassador!” 2119 stands up straight and salutes, his movements mirrored by 3012, “We’re glad you made the trip and I’m certain the Queen will be as well.”

The ball of clothes named 65536 unhooks itself from the cart’s harness-

“Whah?!”

-yelps as the cart starts sliding down the ramp, and quickly tilts its front upwards which makes the skis in the back bury into the snow.

As if nothing happened, 65536 trots over to 2119 scrunching his muzzle in an attempt to avoid s snicker while 3012 looks straight ahead into the darkness, doing the same. The drone raises to the tips of its hooves, and-

“Boop!” pokes the infiltrator’s nose.

3012 bursts out laughing at the infiltrator’s indignant snort and subsequent backpaddle, and 65536 pulls down the scarves covering its own muzzle, revealing a friendly smile.

“Hi, 2119, 3012!” the drone greets the duo of ranked changelings, “Outside posting like last year? What did you do to make the Queen so angry?”

The duo exchange glances and the warrior shrugs.

“The lowest rank of each class. Unless 387 decides to start posting drones out here this is far from the last time we’ll meet each other pretending to be icicles.”

“It’s not that bad,” 2119 adds a second opinion, “At least it’s peaceful up here. 415 has been getting a bit… aggressive recently,” he shakes his head, “Nevermind. Enjoy your stay, Ambassador. Do you need any assistance?”

65536 puffs its chest proudly and smacks it with its hoof.

“Nope! All part of the training.”

The drone turns around but immediately turns back to face the duo, tilts its head, and narrows its eyes.

“Is there a problem?” asks 2119.

“Mmmm… YES!” 65536 points at his head and, like the absolute little boss it is, refuses to elaborate. Instead, it darts over to its cart, opens the closest box hidden under the waterproof tarp covering everything, fiddles with it, and takes something out before returning to the infiltrator, “There!”

2119 watches the presented wooly cap, blinking in surprise.

“Uhh, what?”

“On your head,” 65536 beams, “Ponies use these when it’s cold-”

“I know what a cap is, but… why?”

“Cuz you’re cold!” explains the drone, “I got the stuff for the others counted so I can’t give you any of that but Luna made me pack so many spares I’ve run out of bits to put them on,” it lowers its tone conspiratorially and winks at the infiltrator, “That’s the part of the plan where you come in. Do you want me to show you how?”

“N-No,” 2119 stutters, completely taken aback, “Umm, thank you very much, Ambassador,” he finally takes the cap from 65536’s hoof and puts it over his head. It’s small, of course, but stretchy enough to fit, somewhat, “...thanks…” the infiltrator repeats quietly.

65536 doesn’t seem to register it because it darts back to the cart and this time returns to the warrior, offering a pink scarf.

“And this is for you. It goes around the neck.”

3012 takes it wordlessly and wraps it around himself. Several seconds later, he recovers and says:

“Thank you. We’ll be here when you leave so we can return these-”

“Nope, keep them!” 65536 trots off and hooks itself back to the cart’s harness, “I already got three on. Consider it a Hard Swarming gift!”

“Is that the pony winter thing?” mutters 2119.

“Thank you…” repeats the warrior this time.

65536 just smiles at each of the sentries and enters the hive, finally leaving the snow and frost behind for the first time in a week.

“Huh…” it stops shortly after when the skis of the cart start making the pulling along the now stone floor of the hive exceedingly difficult, “I knew I was forgetting something.”

“Still don’t need help?” calls 2119, peeking through the entrance from the outside.

“Nope, still part of the training!” 65536 calls back and the duo exchange glances again before shaking their heads and returning to their posts.

Roughly ten minutes later, the cart is back on two wheels and 65536 finally makes its way into the throne room. Unlike for most drones, this place is far from an unknown territory for 65536, and after the long trip it finds the familiarity relaxing. There’s Chrysalis’s strange black rock throne towering over everything, the walls which have been rebuilt from some strange material mix that 99111 figured out after their island adventure and now can be restructured only by adding or removing love, and finally the… well, copious amount of empty space in the dome-like room.

Yet there still are small details it doesn’t recall from its last visit. Yes, it did bring the blanket and two pillows which are currently unoccupied on the throne, but the green pillows made of goop and something around the stove are new. 65536’s observation instinct keeps insisting there’s more, but it can’t consciously put a hoof on what until it blinks, realizing it’s much brighter here than ever before, and looks up.

Huh, they’ve installed goop skylights since last time.

Finally, a pleasant smell makes it sniff the air and guides the drone’s eyes to a kettle on a stove under the throne room, which they set up last winter, as well as yet another warrior and infiltrator duo greeting it, both openly smiling.

“Glad you made it, 65536,” 387 gives 65536 a courteous nod.

“Some of us were starting to get worried,” 156 nods sideways to 387, “Annoyingly loudly too.”

“I saw the tactical spell strike that created the Badlands from a distance once,” 387 smirks, “I don’t need a seat in the middle of a second one in case something happened to Princess Luna’s little bundle of chitin and joy.”

“True, I suppose,” 156 bows to the drone, “Good to see you, Ambassador.”

“Awww,” 65536 hugs her neck before she can rise again, “I’m happy to be here too. It’s been a spooky trip this time.”

“How come? Is the weather too much to handle even for the pegasi?” asks 387.

“It seems so,” 65536 begins taking off its clothing piece by piece and putting it away into the box heated by Princess Luna’s magical talismans, “Most of Equestria is so snowed in it looks like the outside of the Crystal Empire- umm, have you ever been there?”

“The name’s new to me,” says 156.

“All I know is what I learned about Princess Cadance on our cruise two years ago,” 387 rubs his chin, “I’ve never been so far north even before it vanished.”

“Oooooh! I gotta ask the Queen to let you go with me sometime,” 65536 beams, “Everything is shiny and they have a food machine made for changelings! It spins and goes ‘whoom’ and it makes love you can eat all the time. We GOTTA take some drones with us too,” the drone’s eyes widen at the possibilities.

“Let’s leave organizing field trips for when the Queen’s back,” 156 chuckles as 65536 gets a little too excited and starts bouncing up and down while folding its final pieces of clothing into the box.

“Where is she?” asks 65536.

“156 refuses to tell,” 387 pouts.

“156 doesn’t know,” the infiltrator nudges him in return, “But she shouldn’t take too long, whatever she’s doing.”

65536, now completely naked, shivers.

“Whoah, it’s pretty cold in here after all the time I spent wrapped-up on the way. It didn’t use to be as bad, right?”

“It’s a rough winter,” 156 nods. While it is cold in the throne room, an infiltrator of her rank isn’t particularly bothered, and she’s absolutely certain that 387 has gone through much worse conditions, “Tea helps, though, even if the supply is woefully limited. Join us for a cup?”

65536 nods.

“Pity you hadn’t arrived fifteen minutes earlier, the fire just went out,” the infiltrator walks over to a nearby wall, touches it, and creates a hole containing a small amount of dry branches. Once everything is in the firepit by the throne, 387 starts attempting to make a spark with his hooves.

“Wouldn’t goop help?” asks 65536, sitting down next to 156. The infiltrator waves her foreleg around, encircling the charred floor surrounding the firepit slash stove.

“We tried. In general, resin explodes easily but, unfortunately, doesn’t burn that well without some stabilizer. As far as 10000 has been cataloguing drone specialties, we don’t know about one who would help in that regard.”

65536 smiles, this time to itself and in a warmer, softer fashion. It’s always good to hear that an old friend made it through another year. Deep tunnels aren’t merciful, even with all the advancements the drones made under the new rules.

“Is 57999 the one gathering wood?” it asks. It’s a logical conclusion - the greenhouse is the only place near a forest.

“It or its assistants,” 156 nods, “There’s no way to gather enough for proper heating and the drones have been having some problems in that regard, but for us it’s enough to melt some snow and boil it from time to time.”

“And where do you get the tea?” 65536 leans closer to the dented pot on the stove, examining the mix of… stuff in it, “Wait, that’s definitely not tea,” it sniffs the odor, “Smells nice, though.”

“Some of it is,” 156 corrects the drone, “Then there’s birch bark and some dried green stuff 57999 brought from the greenhouse because it thought it smelled nice.”

“I traded a jug of water for it,” sparks finally set fire to the kindling 387’s been working on, “Technically just the water. It was 57999’s work jug and it didn’t realize it could fill it with snow right outside the greenhouse,” 387 snickers and piles the bigger sticks on, “I’m a business mastermind.”

“Heeey!” 65536 frowns.

“Knowledge is power,” 156 takes 387’s side for once which makes him shoot her a surprised look, “Besides, water is hard to come by down in the tunnels, you should know that.”

“Grumble grumble…” 65536 pouts but admits the high ranks are right. While there are underground streams, they are usually in lower tunnels, difficult to approach and, as far as 65536 knows, drones in general don’t have a way to store water long-term, “A trade’s a trade,” it sighs in the end.

“Don’t pout at me, 57999 was satisfied with it too,” 387 stretches and sits down by the firepit, warming its hooves by the rocks, “If I know the guys down there, there’s a fifty-fifty chance it traded it either for quartz dust someone scraped off of their hoof or a gem that would set it for life if sold to the right expert.”

“Hmmm…” 65536 makes a microwave noise, “If you didn’t mean to kinda outsmart it to unfairly take its stuff I guess it’s all fine.”

“Random dry greenery for melted snow, you do the math,” 156 pats the drone’s head, “And come on, 387 has been doing all he can to make the life down there better.”

“Sorry, some habits die extremely hard,” 65536 looks 387 straight in the eyes, “I apologize, 387. I should know better by now.”

“Eh, no offense taken,” the warrior shrugs, “I know exactly how you feel.”

“He’s suspicious in the same way regarding me and Chrysalis, but we’re slowly training him. As it turns out, you can teach an old changeling new tricks, it just takes patience and treats,” 156 winks at 387 who openly snarls at her.

To the surprise of both high rank, 65536 giggles and all tension from the trade details disappears instantly.

“I’m happy you guys get along so well. The Queen couldn’t have found anyone better to be in charge in her absence.”

“We’re doing what we can,” 387 ignores the first part of the remark, “Chrysalis is teaching 156 how to deal with the hive’s politics, and I-”

“387 is still 387,” 156 interrupts him, “If you can do me, I can do you,” she sticks her tongue at him when he shoots her a look.

For a reason 65536 doesn’t catch, they both glance at the drone. When it just looks from one face at the other, eagerly awaiting what’s next, 387 adds:

“My job’s gotten a lot easier, though, with 10000 now being a full time… organizer, I guess?”

“Oh? What does it do?”

“Compiles the daily mining results into reports so that I don’t have to connect to each drone individually, maps out new findings, collapsed tunnels, and so on. Based on that, we plan out repairs, love rationing, prioritize mining operations-” 387 stops and waves his foreleg, “All that boring stuff that makes the hive tick.”

“That sounds super busy,” 65536 nods and rubs its chin, “I don’t know if I could do all that and get some proper digging time in.”

“10000 is in no shape to be digging anything,” 387 frowns and shakes his head, “But hey, you’ll have more than enough time to talk to it while you’re here.”

“Oof! I get all itchy if I haven’t dug anything in a while. Luna lets me dig her magic shield for practice and experiments, and whenever I’m on a trip somewhere wild I make a tunnel or two. If I couldn’t dig stuff…” 65536 shudders at the horrifying idea of not droning, “I guess I should go talk to it and see how it’s feeling.”

Its ears register the clip clop of hoofsteps and its hive link, used only rarely in Canterlot, finally tunes into the vague background of hive mind information aided by the presence of the approaching Queen.

“Hiii, Your Majesty!” 65536 beams and waves at her before politely standing up just as 156 and 387 do.

“Good you made it in one piece, 65536,” Chrysalis smiles back, but both high ranks sense something unusual about her. Neither of them can identify it, however, “156, there’s something I need to discuss. 387, go help 65536 with the cart. It knows where to park before… the celebration-”

“Hard Swarming!” 65536 says helpfully.

“I refuse to say it, it’s a stupid name,” Chrysalis pouts.

“It’s a pun!”

“It’s a stupid pun.”

“Nu uh!”

“Uh huh!”

“I won’t stop hugging until you say it,” 65536 giggles and hugs the Queen's leg.

“Test me,” she shakes the drone off without any malice, “I’ve lived for seven centuries and I don’t intend to stop any time soon.”

156 and 387 exchange looks, both relieved that the weirdness is gone, burned away by 65536’s cheer and replaced with surprising foalishness on the Queen’s side.

“We just put the tea on,” says 156, interrupting the ensuing harmless staring contest between Chrysalis and 65536.

“Excellent!” the Queen takes the excuse to stop looking at the drone happily grinning from ear to ear, “387, 65536, come back here once you’re done putting the cart away and we’ll talk about what’s new. The drones are asleep anyway.”

“Yaaay, I’ll get my sleepy bag!” cheers 65536, so excited it starts bouncing again, “I gots all kinds of stories! And shmellows!”

“We’ll have a diplomatic discussion between the representatives of the hive and Equestria,” Chrysalis corrects it, but can’t help smirking.

“Diplomatic sleepover!”

Everything old is new again: 1

The hands of a round clock situated on top of a lamp post show half past five, and are the only guidance for the several ponies standing around the Dodge Junction train station, most either yawning or blearily staring ahead. The only notable exceptions are the stallion inside the ticket booth chatting with a presumably daily customer, a pony sweeping the night’s dose of snow off of the tracks, a vendor mare with a small, metal cart hooked to her back, offering coffee and getting good sales from almost everyone around, and a stallion wearing a heavy winter coat and a straw hat, sitting on a forgotten piece of railing in the back while playing a slow, pleasant tune on a harmonica. Despite the amount of early risers waiting for the first morning train, there’s no one sitting on the only bench of the station. In fact, everyone seems to be giving the bench a wide berth, and it’s the only place around which the snow hasn’t been swept off. The remaining snow must be the reason, definitely. It certainly can’t be the small changeling drone hiding under it, wrapped up to its neck in a paper-thin, short blanket full of holes, with only its glowing eyes and the muzzle in front of those peeking into the open like a curious cat.

The drone’s eyes dart towards anything that moves, currently moving left-right, left-right, left-right as they follow the pony sweeping the tracks. Unfortunately for it, the pony finishes his job within the next five minutes, walks over to the ticket booth, and starts chatting with the stallion inside. It looks at the bigger changeling mare curled up under the blanket next to it, thinks for a moment, and eventually shuffles out from under the bench, which takes some tactical effort due to its large backpack, doing its best not to wake her up. Failing that and facing the one open eye watching it when it looks back to see how it fared, the drone mentally connects to her hive link and asks:

“Do you think it’s safe to walk around a bit, Smiley?”

Smiley looks from side to side too, her eyes briefly stopping on the ticket booth, and hesitantly nods before pulling out her tablet, hucking out a small chunk of goop, rolling it up, blowing at it to dry up quicker, and using it to write down a chalky: [no far. Train]

“Yup, I’ll just stretch my legs.”

Smiley nods again, and starts wiggling out from under the bench as well. The drone doesn’t wait and walks along the platform to the only larger point of interest out there, which is the earthpony stallion playing the harmonica. To avoid being intrusive since its experiences with ponies are limited, specifically limited to yesterday’s interaction with the ticket vendor, it sits down nearby without a word and watches the pony play while nodding its head to the tune. Soon, however, with one final, drawn-out tone, the tune ends and the stallion doesn’t start a new one. The drone looks up at him and finds itself scrutinized in turn.

“We don’ get many of ya lovebugs over ‘ere,” he drawls.

“We don’t have any ponies back home,” replies the drone, “You’re much bigger than I thought. Fluffier, too,” when the stallion stares, taken aback by the cheerful response, the drone adds, “Can you play a tune again? We have a box at home that used to play tunes from some black, spinny discs before it stopped working. I liked it.”

The stallion raises an eyebrow and shivers as a freezing breeze briefly picks up.

“This winter is no time to be travellin’ this light. Ya shoulda’ stayed home with yer gramophone, tiny,”

“I’m not tiny. I’m normal size for a drone, maybe only a bit smaller,” it shrugs and suddenly twitches as if remembering something, “Wait, did I start off wrong? Sorry, it’s my first time talking to a pony on my own. I’m 99999- umm, that’s a name in your pony terms.”

“Name’s Apple Strudel,” he tips his hat to the changeling, using the drone’s strange conversation reset to learn more about these supposedly ex-predators, “Ya waitin’ for the train wit’ yer ladyfriend?” he nods to Smiley who is busy fighting her own fight - attempting to fold the blanket into her own backpack again and failing despite copious amounts of determined face-scrunching. Not even changelings can avoid the curse of things being easier to unpack than to pack back.

“Yup,” 99999 nods, “The Queen sent me to… uhh…” the drone furrows its nonexistent brows, “San Pal-o-mean-oh, and Smiley is taking me there because she’s got a whole bunch of experience with pony stuff and I don’t. She knew we had to ride something called the train that’s supposed to be here and that to ride it we needed pieces of white-flat called ‘tickets’. I got mine in my pack. Would this train thing be angry if we didn’t have these tickets?”

“Ya don’t know what a train is? Weird, I thought ya’ll knew all ‘bout pony stuff with yer-” he pauses awkwardly, realizing he’s in an extremely shaky relationship territory, and settles on, “past.”

99999 tilts its head, working out what Apple Strudel might mean. It settles on:

“I hatched six worky times ago so all this is new,” it ends with a wave of a foreleg to encompass the train station, “The Queen just called me out of nowhere, all the way up to the big throne room, and said I had to leave.”

“That’s awful!”

99999 nods.

“Yup, the Queen didn’t let me take the Scufflestick tinies 99526 helped me make because there was no space in my backpack-”

“No no, I mean that bein’ kicked out in the middle of winter bit,” Apple Strudel shakes his head.

“Oh, we didn’t get kicked at all, just told to leave,” 99999 waves its hoof dismissively, “I miss 99380’s tunes the most, I think, and you reminded me of those with your noisemaker,” it nods towards the harmonica.

“The… harmonica?” he raises the instrument and, as 99999 eagerly nods, he plays a quick scale followed by a snappy, short tune.

“Eeee!” 99999 bounces up and down before clopping its hooves together, “Wanna trade? I got a shiny,” it quickly takes its comparatively huge, bulging backpack off, and pulls out an uncut emerald.

“Arhehm!” Apple Strudel’s eyes bulge and, for a brief moment, he toys with the thought of taking the painfully unfair trade but, in the end, good nature wins and he shakes his head, “Nah, it’s worth jus’ a couple bits but it has sentimental value. Feel free to try it out if ya want, tho’,” he hands the harmonica to 99999.

The drone grabs it with both forelegs and examines it.

“Jus’ blow inta it,” Apple Strudel leans in.

The drone does so, making a random sound. The stallion is about to say something but the sheer excitement in the drone’s eyes stops him, and 99999 starts blowing into various parts of the harmonica at random. It eventually satisfies its curiosity, reminds itself that the harmonica isn’t its, and returns it to Strudel.

“How come it’s not working for me the same? I just get boop boop blaap! Is it because it’s yours?”

Strudel chuckles.

“Just experience, I s'pose. Ya can buy a harmonica anywhere fer just a couple bits. Don’t let anypony scam ya to give ‘em that gem. It’s worth a lotta more.”

“Thanks, Mister Apple Strudel, I’ll ask-”

*TOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT!*

“-whah?!” 99999 reflexively backpedals, head snapping from side to side.

Apple Strudel, quickly for his age, rushes forward, grabs 99999’s foreleg, and pulls it towards himself.

“Lil’ guy!” he scowls, “Ya almost backed ta the tracks!”

“What, where, noise?!” 99999 is shaking.

“The train’s comin’,” Strudel stretches and winces, “Oof, I’m too old fer jumpin’ around like this. By the way, I think yer marefriend is comin’ fer ya and she wouldn’t be happy if the train stopped on ya.”

“Hey, Smiley, the angry screamy train is here!” 99999 turns towards the carefully approaching changeling, “This is Mister Apple Strudel and he has a noisemaker he calls a har-mo-ni-ker and he can play tunes like 99380, but out loud!”

Smiley shows the stallion her tablet: [Hello]

Now faced with two changelings sitting in front of him, seemingly waiting for any input, Apple Strudel mentally prepares for the ride to Appleloosa. It’s bound to be a new experience, if nothing else.

***

These days, there’s normally only one ranked changeling on guard duty by the entrance to the throne room, and the lucky one today is 99. It’s probably the easiest posting one can get, devoid of any real danger and requiring only the ability to remain focused in the face of boredom, or to deliver a message from or to the Queen. In short, it is boring, which only compounds the fact that, after personally testing the “quicktrotter skip” yesterday, 99 spent all night and morning with the Queen, 156, and 387 chatting with 65536 about news from Canterlot and Equestria in general. Normally, staying awake wouldn’t be an issue, but current conditions of her training prevent her from using love to remain refreshed, so she fails resisting the incoming yawn.

*Clip, clop, drag*

Her ears twitch as she hears the faint sound of hooves and something being briefly dragged across the floor, and she mentally reaches out to scan the area for changelings.

“...I really should have noticed it coming much earlier. Damn 387 and his training ideas…” she mutters quietly to herself.

She’s more annoyed with her own inadequacy than with the warrior, though. 387 might be an ass at times, but he means well. Stifling another yawn and quickly stretching to wake herself up, she heads off towards the steep, wide tunnel used for moving materials leading underground. By the time she strolls over, the dragging and walking noise gets close and she finds herself looking down at 10000 in its pitiful physical shape.

“Hello, 10000,” she greets it, “You usually come in person only for the weekly reports. Is something wrong?”

“Hi, 99,” 10000 smiles at her, which cheers her up, knowing that the drone is comfortable around her. Despite the relationship between the hive classes being warmer than ever before, at least from what she heard from other top ranks, she still gets puzzled and slightly worried glances whenever she visits the High Score Cavern for a Scufflestick match. However, there’s a strange weariness in 10000’s eyes she can’t make full sense of which is making her uncomfortable, “The report is a bit grim today, but mainly I need something from the Queen.”

“And what about you?” she asks, walking slowly by the shuffling drone’s side, “Your leg looks… worse, and your carapace is barely holding together,” she notes as the fragments of 10000’s carapace move and grind with each limping step.

“I tried to help the rescue squad last worky time,” 10000 breathes out heavily, “I did my best to keep up but it turned out I was just slowing them down and I could barely walk afterwards. It would have gone better if I wasn’t there,” it finishes.

“That’s why the Queen put you on planning duty, and from what I’m hearing you’re doing well. 387 says he has the time and energy to train again due to the effort you save him,” 99 pats 10000’s head and smiles softly to herself as the drone leans into the touch, “If you need a break or something, just ask.”

10000 shakes its head.

“I’m fine- well, I mean overall, not- you know what I mean.”

“All I’m saying is that you don’t need to be afraid of asking for anything you need. 387 told me some stories about how things used to work, but times are different-”

At 99’s mention of the old times, the image of 36658 flashes through 10000’s mind along with: “I believe you’re a drone who can remember the old days but not get its outlook ruined by them.”

“-and the worst that can happen now is that the Queen says no.”

“I know, I know,” 10000 smiles at 99 as she takes her spot by the throne room entrance again, and whispers,“...thanks, and if you need a carapace that won’t keel over if you fall asleep standing up, I can design one for you after a check-up…”

99 laughs.

“I might do that, if only to see 387’s face if he ever catches me,” 99 puts a hoof onto a section of wall, drains love from the mix of resin and ground-up emeralds, and the wall opens into a hole through which 10000 enters the throne room. Knowing that the drone won’t take long, she leaves the hole open for now, and returns to the side and out of view from the inside just in time a yawn wins over her self-control yet again.

Don’t fall asleep, 99. Don’t give 387 the satisfaction.

10000 approaches the raised throne lit by the bright light coming through the ceiling. Chrysalis is reclining on it, her eyes locked on the drone, while 156 and 387 are already sitting under it with their eyes closed, busy with some mental activity the drone can’t track.

“I’m here with a report, Your Majesty.”

The moment 10000 says that, however, it hears brief rustling before-

“IKNOWTHATVOOOOOOICEEEE!”

-a black blur shoots out of one of the dark holes at the bottom of the throne, trailing a sleeping bag that doesn’t survive the sudden acceleration and flies away. The blur makes a loop mid-air and 65536 lands directly in front of 10000 with just the happiest, ear-to-ear smile, and a perfect superhero landing.

“Hey, 10k!” it immediately pulls the drone leader into a crushing hug that instantly softens as the pieces of 10000’s carapace move in response to the pressure in a way no solid carapace ever should.

10000 returns the embrace as well as it can because sitting on its haunches with one heavily protesting hind leg isn’t the most stable, and breathes a sigh of relief. Somehow, 65536 has this aura around it that makes the drone leader feel as if everything’s going to be alright.

I wish we could have taken 65536 with us down to the island laboratory. 36658 would still be alive for sure and I… I’d still be a proper drone.

“Ten-kay?” asks 10000 when 65536 decides to release it from the gentle but inescapable embrace, “I don’t have any letters in my rank, that would be confusing.”

“It means ten thousand in decadic pony measurements and in your case it’s much easier to say too,” 65536 boops 10k’s nose.

“Vote to rename 10000 for convenience!” 387 raises his foreleg with a smirk, waking up at the same time as 156 while the Queen flies down from the throne, “One vote for!”

“For!” 156 grins, raising her hoof.

“And I, as a Queen, declare it to be so,” says Chrysalis with a snicker, “Try this democratic voting nonsense around me again and you’ll see how far I can throw a fully-grown changeling across the Badlands. 65536 stop crowding my top drone, we have a daily report to go through and, judging by its presence, it’ll be a rough one.”

“I’ll go stretch my legs then-” 65536 yawns as 10k joins the trio and sits down, “Running on two hours of sleep isn’t great but I want to fix my sleep schedule so that I can join the others next breaky time. Today’s gonna be rough.”

“Off you go!” says Chrysalis and closes her eyes, drawing all four changelings into the hive mind. Normally, it would be love-inefficient, but a Queen’s presence makes the communication almost free and significantly quicker.

“Start with what’s wrong,” asks Chrysalis, watching the other three and noting that even the mental image of 10k’s body is broken, “We can go over the numbers afterwards.”

Almost two years and 10k is not getting better. I’m starting to think that this is going to take more than just time and love to heal.

“The mining area designated for your project is proving surprisingly dangerous. Rumblers swarm around the place and destroy anything we build, reinforced or not. Our emergency cocoons and any other inventions are of no help either. We are rapidly losing drones, Your Majesty. We assume two newbies were eaten by rumblers just last worky time and… as I mentioned earlier this week while we were discussing 99999’s mission… 47989,” 10k bites its lip.

“Ah, shit,” 387 frowns, “I’m sorry to hear that, 10k. That means the only ones left of the old guard are-?”

“20100, 57999, and me,” says 10k with a heavy sigh, “Smiley too, if you count it- her.”

“If you need to talk about it with someone who knows how it feels, we can sit down somewhere,” offers the warrior.

“Don’t leave me out of it,” 156 joins in, “I know trusting ranked changelings is something difficult to get used to, but we are on the same side and we want to help.”

Chrysalis remains silent and observes the drone until 10k decides to continue with the report:

“That’s not the reason why I’m here in person, though-”

Alarm bells ring in Chrysalis’ head as her infiltrator instincts focus on 10k. Avoiding the problem, the faint hollowness in the drone’s voice, slumping posture unrelated to the wounds: Denial. Absolute denial of someone focusing on work to avoid dealing with loss. Possibly not only the loss of 47989?

“-I heard that an angry shiny broke during a cleanup yesterday and I wanted to ask if someone already fixed it.”

“No, they didn’t,” 156 shakes her head, “And I doubt anyone will. Until the winter’s over we’ll have to make do with the reserve flamethrower.”

“Which is kinda a pain in the ass, especially if we want to keep digging around 55x89h44-9wwe. Every hole we open is full of something problematic,” says 387 and looks at Chrysalis, “Maybe the rubies aren’t worth it?”

Before she can say something, however, 10k clears its throat.

“Your Majesty, that’s not what I meant. I talked about it with 99111 and it thinks that it might be able to fix the angry shiny given the right materials. It already managed to rebuild the original broken one into the melty spitter that the response team is using.”

“What? Did you finally find a drone with fireproof resin?” Chrysalis raises an eyebrow.

“No, Your Majesty, but there are materials we read about in the texts we managed to copy from the smart box that are all around us and we’re not mining them. 99111 examined the angry shiny a couple times before when the handle or the trigger broke, and said that basic repairs like that usually just require pieces of iron of the right shape. In time, it thinks it might be able to build a completely new one from scratch.”

Chrysalis imperceptibly winces.

They aim to build flamethrowers of their own?

“I’m no blacksmith, but there are a lot of steps between mining the iron and forging it into complicated, small pieces,” comments 387.

“Yes,” 10k nods, “Fire, specifically, but 99856 found something in the archives about that too - a material we call black-crunchy is supposed to burn like the sticks 57999 and its helpers bring from the forest, only much better. I’m not sure how something can burn ‘better’ but I’m not a boomy-melty specialist.”

“And what is this all leading to?” asks Chrysalis, eyes narrowed at the idea of heavily armed drones.

“Two things, Your Majesty. Number one is storage - we need permission to build more storage spaces because it means-”

“More love expenditure for resin and more love for maintenance,” Chrysalis makes a circle with her hoof to signal there’s no need to explain the basics, “How much?”

“I’ve got the estimates when we get to the numbers part of the report. It’s not much, because we’d be storing it on the upper levels, near 99111’s and 99856’s workshops. The more complicated part is that we kinda… don’t always have the time-”

Chrysalis raises an eyebrow, which makes 10k speak faster.

“-So I’ve got two ideas. We could shorten worky time and breaky time, and set up a new kind of time during which we’d be mining materials that you don’t specifically need from us. Or, if that’s too much, I just want to ask for permission to dig those materials during breaky time. We’ve never really talked about what we’re allowed to do during breaky time other than we’re not supposed to work, so…” 10k scratches its head because it doesn’t know how to continue, “That’s just what I wanted to know before we get to the numbers. We did get a lot of shinies, though, much more than we were supposed to, so maybe we can say we-”

“Alright, enough,” Chrysalis taps her hoof on the floor, silencing the now stuttering drone, “You have my permission to dig out and maintain more storage spaces, start small and we’ll work out the details as you go. As for the time allocation, once you hit the required material goals for the hive and finish the planned surveys, you’re free to use the remaining work time as you see fit. You may choose to overshoot a daily goal in favor of taking a longer time to do something else the next day, I don’t mind. During any spare time, you are free to mine non-requested materials as you deem fit as long as it’s voluntary. However, all weapons research, production, and smithing will only happen under the supervision of 99. Understood?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” 10k nods. That went astonishingly well, “I think it will be a long time before we get to crafting something of our own but if we do, it’ll be great to have a whole bunch of high ranks armed with angry shinies ready to help. Does that mean 99 will be present during 99856’s goop experiments? Should it stop doing those until she arrives?”

Chrysalis maintains her calm facade. Yeah, if only that was the problem.

“Keep doing what you’re doing, 99 will join you later with detailed instructions. Anything else, or can we get to the numbers?” she asks.

“Nothing,” says 10k, and both 387 and 156 nod.

“Then let’s get to it. 156, requirements,” Chrysalis looks at the infiltrator.

“Ponyville agent requests 300 bits, estimated rate of return is-”

Boring management sessions, right?

Author's Note

47989, the drone that started it all.

Everything old is new again: 2

Noon falls on Appleloosa and with it arrives the first train from Dodge Junction, bringing the early risers. As the train starts slowing down, its brakes grinding and screeching, Smiley raises her head and looks out of the window.

“Lil’ guy, it’s time to stop,” Apple Strudel puts a hoof on the harmonica 99999 is holding with both forelegs and blowing into it tone by tone. Thankfully, while the changeling is far from learning how to produce a proper tune, some polite requests from the annoyed, sleepy passengers shortly after leaving Dodge quickly made it a priority for Apple Strudel to teach it how to control the volume, “We’re in Appleloosa.”

99999 puts Apple Strudel’s harmonica down and looks at Smiley.

“So, what do we do now? This Apple place is on our tickets but it’s not Sanpa Lomino,” when Smiley seems to completely lock up, staring blankly ahead, it adds, “Smiley?”

Smiley’s breathing quickens and she looks at the blank tablet hanging around her neck as if asking for advice. After a brief moment, she just shows the empty tablet to 99999 and Apple Strudel.

“Ya’ll don’t know where ya going or, ya know, how to get there? Ya said ya were sent away, but for real… didya run off?”

Smiley slowly lowers her tablet and looks out of the window where the moving scenery stops.

“No, we didn’t,” 99999 shakes its head, “It’s complicated but it’s harder to remember stuff now that we’re alone, it’s a changeling thing. I’m sure Smiley will recall everything soon,” it rubs its head against the now weakly trembling mare.

“APPLELOOSA TRAIN STATION. PLEASE EXIT THE TRAIN.”

The loud announcement makes both changelings twitch and look at the ceiling.

“Does that mean everyone?” asks 99999 and Smiley’s breathing quickens.

“It does,” Apple Strudel nods and stands up from their four-seat booth, “This train runs only between Dodge and Appleloosa. C’mon,” he nods at them, “Whatever’s the problem, ya’ll have to take it outside.”

99999 pats Smiley’s head, puts its large backpack back on, and says:

“We’ll figure it out together, Smiley. Let’s go.”

Smiley, mouth slightly open and still breathing too quickly, just nods, takes her bag, and follows a clear direction.

***

It’s still over an hour before the end of current worky time, and one unimportant tunnel intersection becomes the witness of something unusual, possibly even unique - a drone just sitting and doing nothing? No digging, no carrying anything, just lost inside its own head, running through a specific set of memories on repeat, and muttering.

“-maybe more left… drag against the wall… carapace changes would solve that… gonna need stable hooves for that… could I join 10000- 10k’s yoga?”

“Heya, 99012!” a voice from the darkness calls out, stopping 99012’s vocalized train of thought.

What is that? A second drone without something to do this far from breaky time? Its rank shows 99066 and, just like 99012 it doesn’t seem worried about being found not working at all.

“Hi, 99066!” the first drone returns the greeting, “How’s it going? I think I’ve figured out a route between oosx-665-qp and oosx-702-ac that’s bound to break your record but I’ll need some practice first.”

“Niiice!” 99066 smiles back, “I’d love to see it. New skip or just different love usage? Wait, before you answer - we discovered two new skips with 99380 last breaky time, but we don’t know how to activate them yet.”

“Two during one sweep? Sweeeeep- I mean sweet!” 99012 grins at the possibilities for the evolution of quicktrotting.

“Awww, goop!” a new, disappointed voice joins in, its hive link identifying it as 99971, “Am I the last one again?”

A third non-worker?! What’s the hive coming to?

“Only by a little bit,” 99066 cheers it up, “So, I guess we all have the same problem, right?”

“Yup!” 99012 nods, “I’m done with my carrying, I can’t find another free work marker on the map, and there’s a suspicious amount of time left.”

“I thought I did something wrong!” 99971 nods vigorously, “It’s too early!”

“Nope,” 99066 stands up and does a few jumps to warm up, “Maybe 10k misplanned something. I tried to reach it from here but it must be all the way up at High Score’s. Anyone up for a friendly trot from here to there?” it winks at the other two, “I go first, 99012 next, and finally you, 99971? Five seconds between us.”

“Waitwaitwaitwait!“ 99971 waves its foreleg, “That’s one thing I wanted to talk about. I think you noticed I’m not as good at using love as you are, so I’ll always be slower, but I’d like to still compete in a way that would make sense. And it’s kinda weird that we want quicktrotting to be fair but anyone who’s managed to scrounge up more love to burn on a run will be faster no matter what. Could we… maybe… not use enhancements?” it ends up meekly, pausing for a moment under the looks of the other two, “I know that ruins the idea of being the quickest b-”

“That’s a brilliant idea!” 99066 and 99012 exchange glances and nod with wide smiles, “That way we make sure almost anyone can do it, it will be based on technique, AND it won’t make them hungry. What do we call it? No-love category?”

“Agreed!” 99012 nods.

99971 just nods, still surprised but happy that its idea was accepted so easily.

“We’ll work out the details later, but how about we do the first no-love test trot from here to High Score’s? As I said before - count down from five, then go. That delay should be long enough so that we don’t get under each other’s hooves,” 99066 recaps the rules.

“Let’s gooooo!” 99012 grins.

99066 lowers its body to the floor, bounces its behind like a cat ready to pounce, counts-

“...two… one…”

-and gallops!

***

Busy with this worky time assignment, 99380 is quietly humming a tune playing inside its head. It can sense fifteen links tapped into it and another thirty-one tapped into them just listening to the music while working. The drone is digging mostly on autopilot while its mind is busy providing links between drones who wouldn’t otherwise reach each other, updating the hive map in real time, and processing and categorizing general information flowing between links far away by using other drones’ connections in a way and at speed which wouldn’t drain them.

By now, 99380 is used to living in this semi-dreamlike state, and drones who know about its peculiar mental talent know not to push when something seems to take longer to process. Now, for example, 99380 is actively forgetting pages upon pages of text provided by the the smart box that the drones managed to carve into walls and ceilings of the most stabilized core tunnels the previous worky time to lower the love cost of maintaining so much detailed information within the drone section of the hive mind.

The drone is also used to knowing stuff which by all means it shouldn’t, because there’s so much information in the hive mind that it can’t actively process all of it so the vast majority happens sort of… in the background, and it briefly stops digging to smile at nothing when a piece of interesting news surfaces out of nowhere.

Nice, 65536 is here! I wonder if it brought more spinnies for the music box… and also something to fix the music box. I should have guessed it would be coming over soon when 57999 said the outside was covered in… snow, was it?

Do I have the shinies to trade? I know it brings presents that don’t require trading for but I’d feel bad.

The hive mind immediately lists the contents of its personal stash with pictures.

New Scufflestick tinies - can’t trade. Three greens, sure. One blue… I really like that one, but if 65536 brought something special then sure-

As it’s sorting out its meager possessions, 99380’s body keeps digging ahead, and the information that it’s dug through a hole into an open space gets lost somewhere on the way from its eyes to its brain. The drone’s foreleg moves through empty air, and it takes a step through the hole, immediately plummeting into a freshly opened, deep crevasse.

-one red, sure. Some yellow-soft dust. One stone tablet with glowgoop writing. I could make one for 65536! That way it can always see some words from us even at home. Now to think about something that would remind it of us in the best way-

The massive snake on the bottom of the ravine, alerted by the falling rocks, looks up at the falling drone entirely unaware of what’s happening, and just opens its mouth filled with circles and circles of teeth made to grind smaller victims into paste.

99380’s body finally gets a warning signal through to its head and the drone’s focus slips out of its mental space into the real world just in time to be too late to spread its wings and stop its fall due to velocity which would rip them off if it tried to.

99380 looks down at the swarming snakes, each with a mouth so big it looks as if they evolved precisely to eat drone-sized prey.

“Not ag-!”

***

A squeak is heard in the High Score cavern or, more likely, isn’t heard because the only drone currently present is 65536, until now taking a nap in one of the many unused beehive-like alcoves dug out in its sides, and it’s the one who just yawned. Squeakily. Aligning its sleep schedule with the rest of the hive drones is bound to take some work, but by tomorrow it should be sorted out, especially if the drone finds some exhausting activity to knock it out around sleepy time, and it has a couple ideas.

A quick mental scan of hive links reveals only a couple within reach, but none in a comfortable chatting distance, so 65536 shuffles out of its alcove and flies down to ground level before stretching.

“Brrr… it’s freezing in here,” it shudders after hours spent wrapped inside the warm sleeping bag, and starts hopping around to warm up, “It’s not as bad as outside but not by much. Weird, it should be a lot warmer.”

“New vents have been installed since your last visit, 65536, and some lead directly to the surface. They have benefits and drawbacks,” says a friendly, source-less voice directly inside the drone’s head.

“Heya, voice!” replies 65536 cheerfully, “How’s it going?”

“The hive is thriving.”

“I meant you personally,” 65536 starts doing push ups.

“There is no ‘me personally’, but if there was I would be satisfied that the hive is thriving.”

“Pfff, be that way,” the drone stands back up and arches like a cat. Despite the reply, there’s no disappointment in it. Voice does voice things, “Any ideas where 10k is? I thought it wasn’t allowed to dig and carry stuff anymore because of its wounds, but it’s not here.”

“It is near a coal deposit on 01-ddd4-ye1. I see you can’t access the full hive map yet, and there have been many changes during the past year. Did Chrysalis forbid you to access hive knowledge in full?”

“Yep,” 65536 nods to… no one, really, “But I can’t blame her. Last time I borrowed a book from the forbidden section of the Canterlot library, I accidentally summoned the Cerberus, that’s a fluffy woofer with three heads, and I had to exercise it.”

“Exorcise.”

“Nope! We played fetch, then it chased me until he caught me, then we played drone toss -I was the drone- but he didn’t bite down hard at all so I know he liked me. It took a couple hours before he vanished, and then the Princesses said I wasn’t allowed to read magic books without supervision anymore. Good times,” 65536, smiling, is now running on the spot, “Aaanyway, so I get that there may be some knowledge the Queen wants to keep only for the hive.”

“I see. Still, being unable to access the map would be inconvenient for all parties, so… here goes.”

Normally, even with the Queen’s precision, a sudden influx of information of this scale would make a drone feel discomfort at least but with the voice somehow doing it, 65536 feels more as if it just entered a giant library and had a list of contents at hoof instead of forcefully cramming all knowledge into its head. It feels refreshing, like taking a deep breath, holding it for a short time, and then breathing out.

“10k is here,” a marker appears on the now significantly more complicated map filled with numerous notes and references.

“Wow, you guys have been busy,” comments 65536 after a whistle while examining the map, “Ohhhh, these must be the new vents. 99856’s testing site has got a lot.”

“99856 is a bit of a chemist and, after one of its first experiments cleared out this cavern for days, 387 and 10k decided that while a vent of large size was a security risk, a couple extra small ones were necessary. Unfortunately, this is the first winter with the new vents and there clearly is room for improvement.”

“Hmmm, I could share some tips from Canterlot-”

“Not with me,” the voice interrupts the drone, “You, of all drones, should understand the importance of interaction and growth in contrast to only receiving orders from above.”

“Hmm, you’re right,” 65536 nods, and heads off towards the crack serving as the cavern’s entrance, “I guess it’s time to see what 10k is doing then.”

The voice doesn’t answer this time, instead 65536 senses three rapidly approaching hive links. It squeezes through the crack and looks left into the hallway. Surprisingly, despite it being worky time, there’s no panic coming through the links, so 65536 just waits instead of running towards them. Moments later, a drone ranked 99066 emerges from the darkness, followed by 99012 and 99971, all galloping as if they were chased by tunnel monsters.

One by one, they gradually stop once they pass the cavern entrance, all calling out numbers very close to each other.

“Nine… fifty-four!” 99066 manages to wheeze out while gasping for air, “Goop… you beat my time, 99012.”

“Ten… exactly,” 99971 sits down, resting its back against the wall.

“This is… a rough… category…” 99012 beams from ear to ear, “I… love it…”

“Hi, guys,” 65536 greets the quicktrotter trio, “Is there trouble or something? You normally don’t see drones running around during worky time if there isn’t.”

“Nope…” 99971 looks up, swaying and trying to stabilize its breathing, “Are you… finished… with worky time… too?”

“Wait,” 99066 recovers the fastest, “65536? You’re already here?” it beams at the Canterlot drone.

“Yup, I arrived yesterday,” 65536 smiles back now that it’s confirmed there’s no impending trouble, “But the Queen and the high ranks wanted to hear all the big news, so I spent the sleepy time with them until 10k woke me up when it came to report stuff. You guys are doing stuff all official-like now, I see.”

“Not really,” 99066 shakes its head, “It’s just that 10k’s doing all the worky time planning now instead of 387. Oh, by the way,” the drone points at the other two quicktrotters, “You haven’t met yet - this is 65536, a veteran like 10k who made it big in Canterlot as a guard. 65536, these two newbies are 99012 and 99971, we’re quicktrotters.”

“What’s that?”

99066 rubs its hooves together in anticipation.

“We’ve got a looot to talk about, buddy. But first, we gotta find 10k. It’s still worky time but we don’t have any more map markers to follow.”

“Perfect!” replies 65536, “I’ve got something to talk about with it too. We can go find it together, and you can tell me about this quicktrotting.”

“And maybe later, a chance to test our skills and planning against the stamina and speed of a properly trained guard in the new no-love category?” 99066 winks at the others.

99012 and 99971 grin from ear to ear in perfect sync.

“Can’t wait!”

Author's Note

I renamed the chapter because I had an idea about a reference I could make that meant the same thing as the old chapter name. Who gets the reference wins a... virtual drone hug or something.

Everything old is new again: 3

Several ponies who notice the two changelings and one earth pony step off of the train from Dodge Junction shoot them surprised looks, but it’s clear that unlike Dodge, a changeling isn’t an entirely unknown sight. Neither Smiley nor 99999 would know it, but infiltrators on missions would often spend the extra day of quick march on hoof to reach Appleloosa simply because it’s much easier to get lost even in a small, active town’s crowd. Friendly relationships between changelings and Equestria or not, the moniker of raping and foalnapping parasites is difficult to get rid of. Thankfully, a small, teen-sized, female-shaped one like Smiley paired with an even smaller 99999 nervously smiling while taking in the sights with amazement in its eyes are difficult to align with those labels, especially when accompanied by a well-known figure from the Apple family.

“If ya wanna, we can talk to the ticket office guys and figure out where yer going. They gotta know all the-”

*Scribble scribble!*

[no must lern or usless]

Apple Strudel gives Smiley holding up her tablet and shaking, her eyes slightly wet.

[I do it]

“Okaaay?” the stallion points towards a small brick building at the end of the platform.

Smiley lets out what seems to him like relief and writes down:

[thank you]

“Yer… welcome?” he raises an eyebrow. Smiley just scrunches her muzzle, huffs to herself, and slowly starts walking.

“Is she’s tryin’ to prove herself or somethin’?” Apple Strudel turns to the smaller yet seemingly a much more sensible changeling.

“Yes,” 99999 nods, “I don’t know anything about it, but she was on really bad terms with our leader 10000, which is pretty weird because it seemed to me that drones disliking one another wasn’t a thing, but I spent only a couple worky times in the hive before the Queen sent me away.”

Apple Strudel waves his hoof.

“Eh, we get fleein’ lawbreakers in Dodge pretty often. S’long as they don’t cause trouble there we don’t mind. Ain’t much to steal there anyway.”

“We don’t steal stuff!” 99999 wibbles, looking genuinely hurt at the idea.

“That was an example,” Apple Strudel immediately corrects himself when faced with the nuclear version of a kicked puppy look, “I meant anyone who has to leave someplace for… reasons.”

“Ah,” 99999 immediately cheers up and the stallion breathes a sigh of relief.

“Look, lil’ guy, I want to help ya but I also got a lotta stuff to do today. I dunno where this Sand-whatever is but the ticket office has to so I’ll just leave ya with this - if ya need information, don’t be afraid to ask. If ya don’t get an answer, ask somepony else. Ya might get weird looks, but that’s all. Got it?”

“Don’t be afraid. This is not like the tunnels and you won’t get munched by anything you don’t know,” 99999 nods, “Got it!”

“Obviously, there are bad ponies in the world, but most are just normal guys.”

“Mhm,” 99999 keeps nodding.

“And a harmonica is worth only a couple bits, not a big gemstone,” Apple Strudel pats 99999’s head and the drone instinctively sticks out the tip of its tongue, “Ya know, in case ya still want one.”

“Yup, for sure!” the drone’s nodding gains vigor.

The tolling of a bell on top of the Appleloosa town hall announces nine o’clock.

“Good,” Apple Strudel takes a deep breath, “I gotta go. My boss is a nice guy but I doubt he’d be happy if I was late due to chatting wit’ changelings. Good luck.”

“Thanks, Mister. I’ll give Smiley a hug for you,” 99999 returns Strudel’s smile with its own which slowly fades as the stallion turns around and heads off into the town.

With nothing better to do, 99999 runs off to catch up with Smiley.

***

One tunnel section that’s been abandoned for such a long time that the drones didn’t even bother rebuilding it into the new, stable shape and using its walls and ceiling to conserve knowledge is finally enjoying the attention of a single drone. 10k is limping around, tapping one hoof on various parts of the tunnel and assessing the following resonance only a drone can sense.

Black-crunchy everywhere I can feel. 99856 will be able to experiment forever with this. It’s close, too.

10k taps into the hive mind map and manually adds another room next to 99856’s workshop with a marker - “To dig, not during worky time”.

Note to self - explain the new mining arrangement to everyone during breaky time.

While 10k is no 99380, manipulating the hive mind is getting easier and easier with the amount of practice it’s getting in place of standard drone work. However…

I wish I was still a good drone.

10k bites its lip, its hoof glows green, and slides it along the uneven wall of the tunnel, attempting to smooth it out.

“AAAAAAAAA!” it screams as spikes of pain run from its fetlock further and further the longer it tries to keep the dig up - foreleg, then shoulder, up its neck. It holds, tears involuntarily streaming from its eyes and gritting its teeth so hard they creak, its throaty scream growing in pitch, but when the lines of pure agony reach its head, willpower isn’t enough anymore and 10k’s body turns the drone off like a light.

More pain wakes 10k up, this time from it being shaken, It’s a dull, persistent pain of its shattered carapace pieces grinding against each other. It opens its eyes and tries to rise up, which it manages to do with a quiet squelch of blood that’s gluing its muzzle to the floor.

“Ughh?” 10k blinks, realizing that it’s facing three other extremely worried drones, “Huh?”

Without even trying, its hive link identifies that it’s in the presence of four others, and that 65536 is looking around and listening with such focus that it’s making its mind stand out like a beacon in contrast to the three quicktrotters surrounding it.

“Hey, 65536, it’s waking up!” whispers 99012, and the guard drone immediately takes charge while coming over and sitting down by 10k’s side.

“99012, monitor the hive mind. 99066 back off and listen for anything unusual. 99971, survey the tunnel for any signs of something passing through hollow spaces-”

“Not… necessary…” croaks 10k, pushing itself up with a wince as it puts weight on its previously digging hoof and pains shoots up its foreleg again, “Calm… down.”

“What do you mean, 10k?” asks 65536, putting its stubby horn to 10k’s head to transfer some love, which 10k blocks, “Huh? How are you doing that? Why are you doing that?”

“I’m okay. We’re not in danger, guys,” 10k forces a weak smile, “I just strained myself a bit too much,” it pats 65536, its voice growing steadier, “More love won’t fix me. This is about as functional as my body gets these days.”

65536 gasps. Refusing love? What a crazy idea! The quicktrotters, however, relax and regroup around 10k.

“What were you doing anyway?” asks 65536, looking around.

“Surveying. I have some news from the top to share with everyone so I’ll leave explaining it for breaky time,” 10k takes a deep breath as well as several experimental steps.

Grinding pain all over - check.

Dull pain when stepping on hurt hoof - check.

Unexpected pain - nope. Good.

“What are you doing here, though?” it asks its unexpected company, “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” it points at 65536 and next at the quicktrotters, “And working?”

“Nah,” 65536 waves its hoof dismissively, “A short nap was all I needed to adapt to your schedule.”

“And we’re finished with worky time!” reports 99012 with a mix of satisfaction and worry that they all missed something, “We were all too early so we were worried we did something wrong, but there were no more free map markers to go for so we came to ask what we could do.”

“I see,” 10k quickly examines today’s hive mind tasks and the story checks out, “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. Good job.”

“So… what do we do now?” asks 99971.

“You can have an extended breaky time if you want,” offers 10k, but the trio don’t look overly enthusiastic at the prospect, “We discussed it today with the high ranks and that’s one option. The other option is to do some more work - not much so that you don’t eat up extra love but it would be something that would benefit us drones as a whole and you’d get more stuff to trade later.”

Three pairs of eyes immediately brighten up, followed by three curious smiles.

“We’re listening!”

“I guess I’ll have to repeat it later then,” 10k chuckles, “Right now, 99856 needs some black-crunchy for its experiments because the a smart box record said that it could be useful for making fire, which would open a whole lot of opportunities for more experiments. I don’t know the exact details, but we all know how helpful 99856’s inventions have been so far, so I believe it. In return for the raw material, 99856 could trade you something, I guess. I’d like to give it some black-crunchy just for experiments, though. Without trade, at least at first.”

“Oh, aaand is all this black-crunchy enough?” asks 99066, pointing at the walls.

“More than enough,” 10k nods.

99066 pulls the quicktrotters into a huddle and they whisper to each other for a few moments.

“We take it!” they turn back to face 10k afterwards.

“Take what exactly?” the drone leader raises an eyebrow.

“The trade!” 99066 beams, “We get a new quicktrotting route from here to our cavern plus a little of black-crunchy for us to trade. It’s not that far but it’s also not all easy-mode tunnels. And you get most of the material for 99856’s experiments. We all win!”

“Don’t forget - this is just for us drones, so you’re allowed to do it only when you’re done with worky time assignments for the high ranks,” emphasizes 10k.

“Yup, got it!” says 99012 and the other two nod, smiling, “Can we start now?”

“Umm, sure?” 10k tilts its head, “Just don’t overdo it, we don’t have the storage space yet.”

“Can I join for a couple runs?” asks 65536, “I know I’m not exactly a hive member anymore, but the way these three explained quicktrotting on the way here sounded interesting. I can help you dig out the storage space too!”

“I’m not stopping you, but won’t the Queen be angry that you’re working here? You’re supposed to be relaxing and enjoying Hard Swarming.”

“Pleeeease?” 65536 wibbles at 10k, “You have no idea how little I get to dig back in Canterlot! My hooves have been all twitchy since I arrived yester-”

A drone without the social skills of 65536 wouldn’t notice how glassy 10k’s look suddenly becomes, and the twitch of its lip.

“-day,” 65536 unfortunately doesn’t stop itself in time, “I hardly feel like I’m being a drone at all.”

10k looks down at the floor before raising its head with its smile now being entirely forced.

“Of course, 65536. Have fun, you deserve it,” it turns around and starts limping away, “I put a marker next to 99856’s workshop. 99012, 99066, 99971, give a breaking-down changeling some time to clear out before you start galloping all over the place,” it chuckles darkly.

“Thanks, 10k! We’ll get you all the black-crunchy you need,” calls out 99012 to the nods of the other quicktrotters.

65536, however, finally notices an unusually smooth groove in the tunnel wall and puts two and two together as it looks at 10k’s legs in their stumbling motion, namely the foreleg with carapace openly peeling off that’s leaving behind green and brown stains.

I screwed up!

***

Smiley and 99999 are sitting by the back wall of the mostly empty ticket office while the former keeps fiddling with her tablet. There are two ticket booths behind glass on the opposite side of the room, both staffed despite the morning rush being over, and serving only the occasional pony. A wooden board made of several planks with writing on them hangs between the two booths. While reading doesn’t come easy to 99999 with no collective hive knowledge node around, it eventually figures out based on one reading “DODGE JUNCTION, 23 bits, XXXXXXXX” that it is the name of the place, price of a ticket and, according to its best guess, some timestamps. Unfortunately, there’s nothing on the board even remotely resembling the assemblage of letters they’re looking for, so the two are trying to make some preparations before engaging in a conversation with an unknown pony.

Salad Domino? San Paolo? Salam Molotov?

[sanpalamala]

With a sigh, Smiley reads her tablet and lowers it.

“Some parts of it must be correct. Wanna try again?” 99999 examines Smiley’s latest attempt at writing down the location name. If it had its way, it would just walk over and ask, but the drone feels that doing that would somehow hurt Smiley despite likely saving them some time.

Smiley grits her teeth, wipes the tablet, and writes, letter after letter:

[san]

“I think that’s the correct part,” 99999 nods.

As they ponder the next part, two sets of hoofsteps approach them. The drone looks up and sees one of the booth vendor mares accompanied by a rather huge earth pony stallion wearing an apron covered in black stains.

“Can I help you with anything?” asks the mare in a guarded tone.

Smiley looks up and raises the tablet.

“San?” reads the looming stallion in a gruff voice.

“We’re trying to get someplace and we kinda forgot the name,” says 99999, “We’re trying to remember. We were supposed to take the train at Dodge Junction but the only place it went was here.”

Smiley gasps and scribbles:

[sanpolo?]

The ponies exchange glances.

“Do you mean San Palomino?” asks the mare and immediately gasps as she finds herself viciously “charged” by a changeling hugger, “Wha- I- you- stop!”

The stallion raises his foreleg into the air and 99999 gives him a curious look. In response, he slowly lowers it again, eyes narrowed in suspicion, and the drone can’t help feeling that they’ve just dodged a bullet but can’t work out why.

“Get off of me, you- you!” the indignant mare finally pushes Smiley away. Before she can do or say anything further, Smiley writes on her tablet and raises it again, this time with a relieved smile:

[sanpalomeeno tikkit. please. two. trade shiny]

99999 slowly breathes out a sigh of relief as well and rubs its temples.

You’re alone, 99999, and you won’t be returning to the hive. You can’t rely on the hive mind anymore, and the only more experienced changeling around has even bigger problems.

“Remember this - San. Palomino. San Palomino. San Palomino-”

Everything old is new again 4

A brief moment of surprise stops all activity inside the High Score cavern as 156 shrinks, squeezes through the entrance crack, and returns to her full size in a burst of green fire. What makes her smile a little, despite the implications which Chrysalis’ mission for her hints at, is that after the initial shock at seeing a high rank at their place, the drones quickly resume their activities and stop worrying about her. The infiltrator can’t help taking in the sight of a place rivalling Chrysalis’ throne room in size with only the exception of height, and even then the three floors look impressive despite being built with drone dimensions in mind. It definitely looks more civilized, though, clearly taking from the drone experience with Silversmith architecture rather than natural changeling one. Even the pillars scattered randomly- no, 156 quickly realizes, they’re not random. On the first glance it might look like that, but a structural analysis of the hive mind map of the place quickly reveals that the pillars are not decorations but practical support wherever the cavern needs them.

I should probably visit in person more often.

156 walks over to the nearest, perfectly square pillar and looks at the thin carvings. Unlike with the walls of core tunnels which are covered in Silversmith alchemical formulas copied from the mysterious device the changelings got as a reward a couple years earlier, this one seems to depict a detailed view of some kind of a unicorn wearing heavy armor from multiple angles.

Faction: Equestri / Unit: Ancient Shieldbearer / Hits: 12 / -

156 stops reading as she realizes this is just a Scufflestick model stat sheet.She played the game with a borrowed set on occasion against 99 and, while interesting from a tactical standpoint, the infiltrator concluded that her time could be better used elsewhere. Practicing just to wipe 387’s smirk off of his face is always tempting, though, especially when a good majority of the drones relaxing after their shift seem enthralled with either playing or even just watching.

Maybe I could challenge 387 once I’m done here. Winner gets something nice?

Unlike other changelings, infiltrators are always tapped into all active hive links, which can be overwhelming for lesser ranks, so the inborn defensive mechanism is reflexively muting the irrelevant ones or, in the case of more skilled changelings, instinctively hearing everything but filtering out unimportant information without it even getting processed by her short-term memory. In this instance, 156 is powerful enough to let herself hear the quiet music playing through the many minds surrounding her without their other thoughts distorting it in the slightest. She easily tracks it to the source, which is 99380’s mind. The drone itself is currently bent over in the back of the room, attending 10k’s yoga session,

“Hi, 156!” the drone greets her at the mental touch, which makes her freeze internally. She wasn’t trying to be inconspicuous, but a drone shouldn’t, by any measure, be able to recognize such a light touch as if she physically tapped it on the shoulder, “What brings you here? Wanna do bendies with us?”

“Can’t, official business,” replies the infiltrator, “SECRET business, for now.”

“Okay!” her reply does nothing to diminish 99380’s cheer, “Do you wanna pick the next song? When 65536 learned about all the little tricks I’ve been doing with our part of the hive mind, it told me about this thingy called a juke-box. It lets you pick and play any song that we know. I haven’t found the right button for it yet, though, so it’s me who has to pick them, but anyone can request one they like. Only ONE, and drones can’t pick the same one in a row. We learned after the 99557 incident. You get one drones singing diggy diggy, then it’s ten, then the whole cavern, then we can’t get it out of our heads for whole three worky times, and then 99557 got eaten because it couldn’t stop humming while digging out fresh tunnels, and it lured gribblers. Sad death, 99557 had great taste in music.”

For some reason, 156 can’t help wanting to hear more about that, but stops herself from asking. Mission first, storytime later. That is, if she isn’t asked to leave afterwards.

“My condolences.”

“What's a gondola dance?” asks 99380, but before 156 can answer, it continues, “Oh no! I shouldn’t have thought about that- dum-de dum-de dum-de dududu, all drones of the hive rejoice, dig dig dig with me!”

To 156’s surprise, 99380’s link mutes itself on its own, probably to avoid more accidental death by earworm down the line. The brief dialogue does wonders to calm the infiltrator down after her confidence in her mental skills took a proper punch in the gut.

Well, it’s a drone whose specialty is hive mind manipulation. That’s bound to lead to some unusual skills, no reason to get suspicious. Now, let’s find a target…

She looks around and notices a drone currently rising up after some trading with a different one and seemingly earning itself a small but colorful, cracked geode. 156 taps into its mind and makes it do a little hop of joy, leaving no trace of her interference.

Zero resistance to mind control.

“Hey, 99233,” 156 quickly approaches the drone, flying over scattered drone groups. Once she lands in front of 99233, she says in a quiet but sharp voice, “Show me that geode!”

“Here!” 99233 looks up at her with a smile and offers the treasure for inspection, “Pretty, isn’t it?”

Oookay, not the reaction I needed here.

156 steels herself for what’s bound to come, and says:

“It is. Give it to me!”

“Umm, what?” 99233’s voice cracks a little, which sends what feels like a spike through 156’s heart, “But I traded for it.”

“Too bad, it’s mine now. That’s an order. Give it here!” she extends her foreleg.

“B-B-But-” 99233 wibbles. Thankfully, 156 is ready otherwise she would immediately apologize and give the drone a hug, “I t-traded a water pebble w-with yellow spots for it…”

“I am the top rank of the hive, and you will do what I say!” 156 can’t find it in herself to raise her voice, but she can still muster a believable threatening tone.

“B-But the rules- I- we’re not supposed to- 10k said-” 99233 sniffles.

At this point of open resistance, 156 concentrates and takes control of the drone’s mind, forcing it to give the cracked geode to her and apologize for being a disobedient drone.

Neither of those things happen. There is no pushback, no reflexive construction of mental protections, no action. 156 would know, as she did gain her rank under the old rules fair and square. The drone suddenly isn’t in her mental grasp, that’s all. Her mind is working just fine, she just did something she’d done hundreds of times in her life, and to infinitely more powerful changelings. On top of that, as if nothing happened, she’s still connected to the overall flow of the place and listening to 99380’s current choice of music.

Alright. I guess I got what Chrysalis sent me here for.

“What’s going on?” asks 10k who has limped over from the yoga class and forced its way between 99233 and 156.

“156 ordered me to give her my shiny rock but doesn’t want to trade anything,” mumbles 99233 so mournfully that 156 winces and wracks her brain for what to say for the situation to end up as a net positive.

“I don’t believe for a second you’re here for something you can just put on a list for us to dig up next worky time. What is this about?” asks 10k openly through a private link.

156 smiles.

Ask and ye shall receive.

She reaches out and gives 99233 a slow headpat which the drone receives with a puzzled: “Meep?”

“It was just a test I was sent to perform by the Queen herself,” she raises her voice and invokes the royal title. Despite what it might seem from the behavior of 10k, 99380, and a couple of the experienced drones, to the vast majority the Queen is still a mysterious, majestic, near omnipotent shadow hovering over them at all times, and that fact is bound to help her talk her way out of this. While not all drones are listening openly, it doesn’t take an infiltrator to sense the lull in activity and hear the sudden lack of rolling dice, “And you passed, 99233. Excellent job. It’s crucial that the hive’s rules are clear to everyone - to those they limit, like myself, but also to those they benefit, like you. 10k here can tell you about times when things were different. It’s good to see that you are aware of the rules and can stand up for yourselves, even the newbies.”

99233’s jaw drops and eyes go wide. It would be perfect if it wasn’t for a string of green snot slowly travelling down from its nostril after its previous tearing up.

156 pats the drone again and feels it buzzing.

“That was one of the reasons, 10k,” she responds to the drone leader, “I have two more orders directly from the top, though. Number one - you are supposed to build a proper door to this place. It hasn’t been a secret for a long time and the Queen wants it properly accessible. If nothing else, it will be easier to get wounded here.”

“Understood.”

“And the Queen also wants you to stop digging around her personal recovery project. With the giant rock worm activity it’s simply too dangerous and it can wait.”

“R-Really?” that takes even the grizzled veteran drone by surprise.

“You can thank me later because I won’t relay the surprise in your voice to Chrysalis. You should understand by now that she does appreciate you. She just has a… peculiar process of showing it.”

“Understood. And thank you.”

The whole mental exchange takes less than a second during which 156 is just petting 99233, and 10k just leaves without a word spoken out loud, which serves as a signal for drones to resume their activities.

“So, little guy,” 156 leans closer to 99233, and smirks, “Can I make it up to you? You know, for the spook.”

The still stunned drone shakes its head which 156 misconstrues as denial and rises to her full height again.

“156?” peeps 99233, “Can I ride you?”

No inappropriate comments, infiltrator! If only because the drone wouldn’t get it.

“On my back?” asks 156, keeping a straight face.

“Mhm!” 99233 nods eagerly, “A melty spitter once got my leg and I couldn’t walk so the rescue team carried me off and lying on another walking changeling’s back felt great, huggy and bouncy in a way that made me sleepy and safe, but my leggos bopped the ground and it always woke me up. I wonder how it would feel to be on the back of a big changeling.”

“Well? Let’s turn that fantasy into reality, shall we?” 156 lowers to the floor and 99233 climbs on her back, grabs the thin infiltrator with all four legs, and nuzzles the nape of her neck.

156 trots around, processing what happened or, more correctly, how it could have happened.

Drones, all or potentially with caveats, can’t be mind controlled, but that only works if one tries to make them do something they directly don’t want to. That reaction to mind control… was unique to say the least. Chrysalis was right and 415 didn’t just screw up, something’s going on. On the other hole, she did successfully make 99856 forget that the visiting drone was her. Is the resistance inconsistent or really just drone-specific? From the preliminary examination it looks based on intentions. Hmph, I won’t figure out more without varied experiments, and forcing drones to repeatedly do stuff they don’t want to, with their willingness to do most things anyway, does sound like a bad idea. Oh well, let’s report to Bugbutt and see where we go from there.

“Hey, 99233!” 156 jumps up a little when she realizes the drone is lying on her like a sack of potatoes.

“Huh, hmm? Awake! Totally awake!” it twitches and raises its head.

“Do you want to know what a rodeo is?”

“Road what?”

“A pony game. Try to hold on!” 156 bucks up with her hind legs and the drone scrambles to avoid falling off. When it stabilizes on her back, 156 jumps into the air.

“Whoa! Hah! Eee!“ 99233 grasps for anything it can reach on 156’s neck and barrel, barely managing to remain up there.

“Get ready,” 156 lowers her voice and, when she feels the four-legged grip on her back strengthen, suddenly kicks up with her hind legs…

…completely overestimating the drone’s strength.

99233 flies off and slams its face directly into the nearest pillar, thankfully not against the edge, and unceremoniously flops on the floor afterwards. 156 rushes over, worried she might have accidentally hurt the drone, and asks:

“Are you okay?”

99233 suddenly jerks up and, swaying slightly, raises its hoof.

“Again!”

“No, you got one ride for the spook, that’s all I promised-” 156 shakes her head.

“Wibble…?” peeps 99233, expression honest, bright, and full of hope.

How is it EVEN WORSE when it just SAYS the word?!

“-FINE! Only one more, and a quick one on top, you little manipulative abomination,” she huffs, deliberately choosing long words with a lower chance of insulting the drone.

“Yaaaay!” 99233 flies up on her back on its own and grips her tightly again.

Several jerky jumps later, it’s clear that 156 can throw the drone off at any point, so she flails over to the ‘pool’ of jelly resin under the big slide, and tosses 99233 into it… or at it. A drone can’t sink into that particular variant of goop, but it can quite happily bounce along until it ends up on the other side.

“Thank you!” 99233 gathers itself, grinning from ear to ear.

156 shakes her head, smiling to herself too, and turns away to leave when she notices that a good chunk of drones are intently watching her, Scufflestick games and other activities paused yet again. The infiltrator decides to ignore it and keep walking.

It doesn’t feel apprehensive this time, though. What do they-?

“Miss 156?” a drone previously occupied by trading finally raises a foreleg several seconds later.

“Yes?” she looks at it.

“Can I get a bumpy ride too?” it raises a small, jagged shard of obsidian, “I can trade you a black shiny. It’s pointy too. Look!” it waves it in the air.

156 looks around, facing pair after pair of teal eyes locked on her.

“Okay, who else wants a rodeo ride? Raise your hooves!” she calls out for everyone to hear.

She sighs when her answer comes in the form of a complete forest of raised forelegs, in some cases two per drone.

At least no one tried to raise- nevermind, there’s one on its back with all four in the air.

“Alright, we’ll go by your rank. With the exception of you, 99652,” she points at the quad-legger, “Point for creativity, but you’re still going last for being greedy.”

“Awwww…” 99652 sits back up.

As 156 takes the first request, which is not 10k but 57999, the drones about to go soon start lining up.

Say what you want, this still beats “daily haul balancing meeting number 2375”.

Author's Note

I figured out how to edit and copy stuff from Google docs on the phone! Hopefully this is the one and only time I have to do it, but it did kill about an hour on IV drip.

Crimes against the Hive, and crimes against Equestria

Evening in Ponyville shimmers, evening in Ponyville shines with lights coming from windows, street lamps, and various glowing decorations scattered in the muddy streets in preparations for Hearth’s Warming. Despite the train station clock showing only six o’clock in the evening, this deep into the winter it’s dark already, low visibility being a state of affairs with which the snow gently falling from the cloudy sky isn’t helping. Two changelings having recently left the ticket office after arriving in Ponyville from Appleloosa stop under the clock and look straight up, attempting to decide their next step.

Smiley looks at the ticket - numbers. Smiley looks up at the clock - some numbers and a bunch of ticks. Based on her experience with previous train rides, there is some kind of a connection. The changelings are familiar with the pony concept of hours, even worky time and breaky time back home were split into those, but their understanding is relative to their current chronological position. Simply put, they should ask how long until the train they’re waiting for comes, not ‘at what time’ based on a twenty-four hour cycle. Too bad there isn’t anyone to put it simply for them.

“Should we just ask someone?” 99999 nudges Smiley after doing the same thing a couple times and coming up with nothing. The usability of the hive mind both for remembering and processing information when there are only the two of them is limited at best.

Smiley scribbles on her tablet and shows the message with an arrow pointing at her head.

[<-must learn or useless]

“10000 told me after I hatched that I should ask if I wanted to know something and the hive mind couldn’t help. Same thing with the wall writings that weren’t in the hive mind. Also, you’re not useless, Smiley. Why would you think that? The Queen sent you to help me get to -whatwasthethingy- San Palomino, and she talked to us both personally. We’re one of the few drones who actually saw the Queen, much less talked to her!”

Smiley waits, staring at her tablet. Seeing that, 99999 stops trying to figure out the analog clock and hugs her. Sometimes, drone solutions are the best solutions, and this seems to be such a case because Smiley sharply inhales and wipes the writing off with some difficulty due to 99999’s forelegs. Cheer-up objective momentarily successful, 99999 lets go. Smiley hucks out a fresh glob of goop, rolls it into a stick with practiced movements, and blows on it so that it quickly dries up into writing shape.

99999 looks at the new “message”. The “Departure 22:00” from the ticket is written on it as well as a drawing of an empty circle with notches around the circumference-

It looks up at the clock again, expression brightening with realization. The minute hand moves.

“You’re not Smiley, you’re Smarty! I’ll go find a pony, wait here!” 99999 quickly turns its head and charges off towards the nearest equine target, “Gotta do my fair share too!”

There are ponies scattered all over the platform, waiting for the next train, so the drone trots over to a random purple mare with three yellow and white flowers on her backside.

“Hello, Miss pony!” it greets her, stopping directly in front of her and looking up.

“Hi…?” she backs away a little. It might be years after the invasion of Canterlot, but changelings wandering out in the open still aren't a common occurrence in these parts.

“Can you help us figure out when a train is supposed to be here? We don’t use pony clocks back home.”

She looks up at the train station clock.

“The train to Canterlot should be here in twenty-three minutes-”

“Nope, that’s not the one,” 99999 shakes its head, “The ticket lady said we had a special one we’re supposed to wait for. We have the tickets, we know the numbers, but the number is too high and your spinny clock doesn’t go that far. Is there a clock around here that goes higher than 12?”

The mare gives 99999 a look of mildly surprised disbelief reserved for those talking to hive drones for the first time, and only manages to force out a weak:

“We?”

“Smiley, this lady can explain pony time to us!” the drone waves a foreleg in the air towards Smiley sitting next to a bench in an attempt to not take up space in case a pony wants to sit there. Despite that, there’s a large empty area around her.

In absence of a better idea, Smiley quickly trots over, sits down in front of the mare, and raises her tablet with a stick of ‘chalk’ glued to it by the edge. She points at the empty circle with notches on the tablet and then at the clock. Finally, she uses her mouth to pull one of the tickets from a leg hole, and presents it to the mare who sighs but smiles and takes it.

“Ah, your train leaves at ten in the evening, that’s twenty-two o’clock. Analog clocks work on a twelve-hour cycle, so one day means the small hand goes around twice. For the small hand, each big notch is an hour, and the small notches are for the big hand, each one a minute.”

“Oooooh!” 99999 smiles and nods in enlightenment, “Learning stuff is fun. I like it when weird things start making sense.”

“I wish the foals in my class shared that enthusiasm…” the mare mutters but can’t help cheering up when faced with the eager, happy expression of 99999. She looks at Smiley, “You know what? How about one of you draws me what time twenty-two o’clock is based on what I just told you? Hmm?”

Smiley turns the slate back to herself and tilts her head in silence.

“Little guy?” the mare glances towards 99999.

“Meep!” it hides behind Smiley.

“I guess teaching’s the same no matter the species,” the mare chuckles to herself, “Come on, it’s not difficult,” she pauses and furrows her brows, “You can count, can you?”

“Yep,” 99999 peeks out of its cover and nods, “I think I can still do a little bit of plussing and minusing. Thinking just takes a moment because we’re not used to being on our own. I remember 10000 saying you ponies worked differently.”

“Hmmm, fascinating,” the mare purses her lips and narrows her eyes, “Partially like an ant colony… or bees? Alright, take your time. I’ll be waiting here for the next twenty minutes anyway.”

Encouraged by not being called out, 99999 stops hiding and joins Smiley in working with the tablet under the mildly amused stare of the helpful mare. Eventually, the duo are ready to present their answer, 99999 nudges Smiley, and she flips the tablet over.

“Well done!” the mare smiles and pats 99999 who buzzes in response which she takes as a good sign because the changeling leans into the touch. It’s a reflex as well as a safer bet than touching a changeling who looks like an adult mare scaled down, “Do you want to go a step further and tell me how much time you have left?”

This time it’s quick, because 99999 just looks up at the clock without even checking the tablet and says: “Three bigs and forty-eight smalls- I mean hours and minutes.”

“Whoa,” the mare blinks in surprise, “You are quick at applying what you’ve just learned.”

99999 beams.

“We gotta learn quickly!” it nods and scrunches its nose in determination, “We’re on a trip, I gotta get to San Palomino in one piece, and the Queen couldn’t spare a high rank to escort me there so she sent Smiley and we’re still adapting.”

“That’s quite the trip you’ve got ahead,” the mare nods, “However, it’s an easy one at least.”

“Really?” 99999’s face brightens up.

“Mhm. Ponies from all over Equestria travel to Las Pegasus all the time. I’ve been there a couple times myself, and from there it’s just a quick train ride south.”

“Phew! That’s good to hear,” the drone breathes out.

The mare looks at Smiley who keeps examining the clock drawn on her tablet.

“May I ask something?”

“Sure!” 99999 nods.

“Is your friend okay? She’s awfully quiet.”

“Smiley?” 99999 nudges her, “Wanna practice and talk to the nice lady? You said you had to learn stuff.”

*Scribble scribble*

[no talk. write. hatch wrong. thank you.]

“Awww. Sorry to hear that,” the mare frowns, “That writing slate is a great idea, though. If you want to learn about something as your friend said, don’t be afraid to ask. I teach at the local school, and genuine interest isn’t always what I’m met with.”

Smiley nods.

“Can you tell me how to make music?” asks 99999 immediately, “An apple pony showed me what a harmonica is and told me I could trade shinies for one but we didn’t have time to do it in Appleloosa. We have plenty of time now.”

“I’m afraid music isn’t exactly my thing so I can’t be of much help there,” replies the mare, “If you want to buy a harmonica, though, there’s a shop at the town square right next to Quills and Sofas but it’ll be closed at this time of day.”

Smiley points to the dark sky.

[sleepy time?]

“Heh, not yet,” the mare smiles, “We-”

[breaky time?]

“-that’s more accurate. Yes.”

[like home]

“I guess some things are the same everywhere,” the mare nods, “Work, relax, rest.”

“I heard things were different in the old days,” 99999 interjects, nudging Smiley again, “You were alive under the old rules, right? They guys said you’re one of the few remaining veterans, and you guys are what- five years old?”

“Five years?” the mare freezes, “Were you in Canterlot?”

“What’s that?” asks 99999, “Sorry, I hatched a -wait wait wait, I should use pony words up here- a few days ago,” the drone smiles happily, having figured it out, and looks at the suddenly apprehensive pony.

[big]

Smiley pauses. She remembers Canterlot - flashes, colors, but-

[big. white. no words. sorry. bad]

-the pony city was just too overwhelming, and the weight of orders absolute. There was no sightseeing and, after breaking through the shield, Smiley was discarded like a tool that served its purpose.

[bubble. hurt. stopped. lay-]

Smiley suddenly takes a sharp breath when a soft touch on her head breaks her out of her own memories and stops her constant scribbling on her tablet so shaky it’s barely legible. The purple mare withdraws her hoof.

“What happened, happened. We’re friends these days and that’s all that matters,” she says in a warm tone of someone used to calming others down. Smiley lets out a long, slow breath, and lets go of her tablet which remains hanging around her neck by the attached string, “Yes?” she looks at 99999’s raised foreleg.

“Can I still ask stuff about ponies?”

The mare chuckles.

“Of course. Ask away.”

***

Left alone on the platform once again after the departure of the train to Canterlot, Smiley and 99999 ponder how to spend the remaining time before their express arrives.

“Smiley?” peeps the drone after realizing that it’s bound to be some time before any ponies it could talk to arrive again and spending the last minute keenly observing its superior.

Smiley turns her head to it, clearly waiting for the next prompt.

“Do you think having the tickets just hanging out of a leg crack is a good idea? The white-cold is kinda… landing on them and some bits are getting hard to read.”

Smiley raises her foreleg where the tickets are stuck like a credit card in a reader, scrunches her nose, shakes the tickets, looks again, and takes her backpack off. Some rummaging inside it later, she freezes, sighs, and smacks her head against the bench next to which they’re sitting.

“Hey, don’t do that!” 99999 shuffles over.

Smiley pulls out a folded piece of paper from the bag and quickly scribbles on her tablet [no smarty. forget] before unfolding what turns out to be a note written in big, easy to read letters. Leaning closer to see, 99999 takes it and reads out loud:

“I don’t know how much you’re going to remember once you leave the hive, so here are the explicit instructions: From the hive, head in the direction -ns5gwa-451-” while the final clump of noises 99999 makes would mean nothing to a pony, for a changeling it’s a visual reference point leading to something inside the hive mind. Even with the collective mind’s unreliability due to there being only two changelings present, the marker is simple enough - a mentally visible arrow pointing north. Of course, since the point of origin is supposed to be the hive, it means nothing here in Ponyville, “until you find the new road. Follow it -ns55gwa-551 to a settlement called Dodge Junction. Estimated distance: -987ess/. Once there, buy a train ticket to Appleloosa. Ask around if you need to, there’s no way to screw up at this point. From there, travel only by trains and follow this route: Appleloosa - Ponyville - Las Pegasus - Northern San Palomino. In San Palomino, broadcast a hive link message -///xppds13 until you get picked up. According to infiltrator reports, there’s more than enough gold in Smiley’s backpack to cover the entire trip, and 387 made me give some to 99999 for minor expenses too. 99999 will then stay in San Palomino unless asked otherwise, and Smiley-” the drone pauses and looks at who is just staring blankly ahead like an empty Silent waiting for orders, “Hmm, the writing looks different in this part and says - you will always have a place in the hive, no matter what anyone says. Maybe give life in San Palomino a try for a couple weeks, though.”

Smiley lets out a long sigh, raises her tablet to write something, sees what she wrote before, wipes it off, and resumes blankly staring ahead. Seeing its partner distressed for no discernable reason, 99999 folds the note and sticks it into Smiley’s backpack again before nudging her. She looks at it without writing anything. 99999 might be only a couple days old, but Smiley is dramatically different from any other drone it met, and not due to the inability to speak. The excitement about everything common to the drones is simply gone, and there’s only one other drone 99999 can recall who felt the same, and that was 10000 who explained to 99999 the basics of hive life and guided it through its first uses of the hive mind.

Come to think of it, 10000 seemed to dislike Smiley for some reason, but that doesn’t matter now. Smiley is here and the hive is far away, maybe forever.

“Do you know what this means, Smiley?” 99999 beams at her. She raises her tablet with the barely wiped off [useless], “No! It means that even though we forgot about the note completely, we figured it out. And perfectly! We’re doing exactly what the Queen told us to, and we came up with it all on our own,” it boops Smiley whose empty expression slowly lights up in response, “Now, what do we do with that ‘useless’ written on your tablet?”

Smiley raises it, scrunches her nose, huffs and, with a renewed expression of determination, wipes the words completely.

“So, Smiley, what now?” asks 99999, “We can wait like in Dodge Junction, but it looks like there’s so much to see here.”

[worky time?]

“I don’t know. Is that even a time outside of the hive? What would we even do?”

Smiley rubs her head.

[trade. harmonica?]

“Ooo, I like that! After all, that nice teacher lady said there was a trader at the town square and even warned us that it’ll be closed. But we know how to open a door now!”

[push pull stick]

“Exactly. Let’s go find that city rectangle!”

***

Night Hunter is lying on his belly on a massage table inside a private Ponyville spa room while his muscular back is being kneaded by the hooves of a pink-maned, light blue, earth pony mare. The fact that she’s sitting between the bat pony’s spread hind legs, tightly pressed against his body and grinding her hooves between his wings says a lot about the intimacy of the situation, although the fresh coat of massage oil covering Hunter’s back and Lotus’ barrel is a good sign that they’re just getting started. The masseuse reaches all the way up to Hunter’s neck, pressing her smaller body against his back, and then slides back into a sitting position with ease.

“I really should start doing yoga again,” mumbles Night Hunter, “You’re unbelievably flexible and it’s making me jealous.”

“I’m no contortionist,” Lotus chuckles, “Why did you stop, anyway? Last winter you said you were trying out hot yoga.”

“A day only has twenty-four hours,” Night Hunter sighs, “And the Princess finally appointed a new Nightguard Commander. Everypony thought it would be Bladehoof but, alas, you’re currently massaging him.”

“Congratulations on the promotion, you complainer,” Lotus once again slides onto Night Hunter but this time kisses his neck in addition to the rub, “Will you be able to afford the two sister special this week? If not, we have a half off for bat pony guards this entire week.”

“Gloom will be so excited to hear that- ow,” teases Night Hunter and earns himself a deep dig of Lotus’ hoof right under his wind. After six years, the now regular yearly Ponyville visit usually comes, at least for him, with free lodgings at the spa sisters’ place as well as a pleasant company. It’s way less ‘happy end-y’ as one might expect based on rumors about Aloe and Lotus, but it’s good to know the sisters embraced the rumors in good humor.

“So, since we have all the time in the world, any new, particularly spicy Canterlot gossip you can share?” asks Lotus, moving her massage to Night Hunter’s lower back.

“You should know better than I do, with all the private bookings you get,” chuckles Hunter, “I’ve barely even stuck my hoof through the open door of Canterlot high society. Whenever I’m invited to someplace in a semi-official capacity, I just stick out like a sore hoof. I have no idea how Commander Sharp did it.”

Lotus giggles.

“That makes two of us. A hoof is about as deep as I get into some of Canterlot’s high society.”

It takes a second before Night Hunter catches on.

“Oof, that’s too much information,” he banishes the mental image, “But I guess you’re just filling a hole in the market.”

“Not just the market, and sometimes not just one hole,” Lotus grinds her hooves into Hunter’s glutes.

“You breathe a new meaning into the term puppetmaster,” Hunter moans under Lotus’ expert ministrations, “I don’t judge, it’s just not my thing. Although I do get offers too. Nobles can get pretty weird.”

“Come to think of it, I’m surprised that the Princess lets you out of her sight for a week, especially after your promotion.”

“Two weeks, maybe more depending on the weather,” Hunter corrects her, “We’re escorting 65536 and if you want to know who really is irreplaceable to her then it’s the little guy, not me.”

“Ouch,” says Lotus.

“If you knew the changeling, you’d understand,” Night Hunter chuckles, “It spends all its bits on treats and presents for other drones back home, no regrets. From what little I know about them, the drones very different from the world’s idea of changelings in general, which only makes it worse that there are so few of them outside of the hive unlike other changelings.”

“How come?”

“They are… vulnerable,” explains Night Hunter carefully, “Mind if we change the topic?”

“Sure,” Lotus doesn’t mind, “What does being a Nightguard Commander entail?”

“Mountains of paperwork,” they both laugh, “There’s one new interesting thing, actually.”

“Hmm?”

“The Princess started teaching some of us about how to take an active role in dreamwalking. Nothing major, though. So far I’ve just saved a couple ponies from the usual falling dream.”

“Ooooh! I hate that one. It wakes me up a couple times per month. Why haven’t you come and saved me yet?” she playfully jabs Night Hunter.

“Who says I haven’t?” counters the bat pony, “Do you ever remember the good dreams?”

“Oh…” Lotus pauses, “So you have?”

“Only once,” mumbles Night Hunter into the muzzle hole in the massage table, “As I said, Luna doesn’t let us operate in the dream realm on our own that much. It’s dangerous because, unlike with you, that wardrobe with teeth that’s trying to catch you won’t only wake us up if it does.”

“Oh dear-” careful knocking on the door interrupts Lotus, who pats Night Hunter’s back, slides off of the table, and peeks out of the room. One hushed conversation later, she returns, her voice hesitant, “Night Hunter? My sister just said that there are some ponies in the town square who are saying that changelings have infiltrated the town and taken the music shop owner hostage. Roseluck ran over here because she saw you around and knows you stay with us whenever you visit.”

“What the hay?” Hunter gets off of the table, his warmed up and loosened body protesting, “I’d ask where your local guards are, but I don’t think I’d like the answer. Besides, it might be better if I take care of this anyway.”

“Thanks,” Lotus breathes out, “And you know what? Aloe is booked for just one final client for tonight, so when you come back as Ponyville’s savior she’ll join us and we’ll continue where we left off,” she blows him a kiss.

“Looking forward to it,” says Night Hunter, his mind already focused on the situation, grabs his saddlebag, and rushes out through the massage parlor into the lobby where he sees nervous Aloe behind the counter as well as an even more nervous Roseluck, “Rose, did anypony run off to get Gloom?”

“I tried to tell her but she was busy.”

“‘Sleeping alone or with someone’ kind of busy or the ‘screaming drunk karaoke into a crowd’ kind?”

“Number two, possibly moving onto one,” specifies Roseluck.

*SLAM!*

The parlor door flies open, letting in a dishevelled and wet Gloom covered in snow, wings half open and breathing out alcohol fumes with every word.

“Dun believe her, Your Honor!” Gloom gesticulates with one wing, visibly needing all four legs to stay upright, “Schlong lings attackin’ my ass no one touches muh schlong lings!”

“Ooookay, and it’s only eight,” Night Hunter glances at the clock on the wall before trotting over to Gloom and saying, “Let’s go, party mare!”

“Yaaay, party mare!” Gloom cheers while being pulled by a wing, “Wait nuh, work first…”

Outside, Night Hunter spots a long groove in the snow as if somepony flew too fast and landed wrong.

“Gloom, you’ve just lost the right to complain when you get called a butt pony by a bug pony.”

“Heee, bug butt…”

***

By the time Night Hunter and Gloom arrive at the town square, there’s a small mob carefully watching through the windows of the Delicate Harmony music shop, attempting to see inside despite the bottom floor being dark and their own torches and lamps only turning the store windows into mirrors.

Of course there’s a guy with a pitchfork, there’s always one.

“Gloom, keep the villagers in check and don’t break anypony. I’ll see what’s going on,” Night Hunter doesn’t wait for Gloom to acknowledge the order, and walks over to the door of the store. Gloom might be borderline blackout wasted but the adrenaline of changelings being involved and her being a fantastic Nightguard will make sure she does what’s needed, “And have them take those lights away, even I can barely see inside!”

“Awright ponees!” Gloom raises a foreleg threateningly but quickly lowers it when she starts immediately keeling over. Instead, she returns to using wings, “Lights out cuz we can’t see squat! Go to bed or I’ll call the guards on ya!”

“They’re both drunker than you are!” somepony calls out.

“I meant Hunter there!” she points backwards, “But that means we’ll swish and I’ll deal with the schlong lings! And dey might ‘scape cuz I’m drunk and eat yoo!” she suddenly points at the nearest guy holding a lamp, who twitches, “What did I say ‘bout the lights?!”

As Gloom makes the crowd slowly back off and go silent, Night Hunter can finally squint into the darkness of the store and perk up his ears. With the lights gone, he can make out two changelings, one of whom is clearly a drone and the other halfway between a drone and an infiltrator, both busy by the counter. Contrary to the hostage claim, there’s nopony to be seen around. To his surprise, the drone notices him, waves, and trots over to the glass pane door.

“If you want to come inside and trade stuff, you gotta use the top hole!” the drone points to the fireplace, “The door doesn’t seem to work,” it demonstrates by pulling the handle a couple times, “But the top hole is kinda one-way and we’re stuck now!”

“They wanted to trade something?” muses the bat pony.

“Ask them what they want for the hostage- OW!” somepony with good ears calls out from the crowd before being smacked over the head by Gloom.

“Shoo, all of ya! Yer innerfering with official investment- investigation!” Gloom smack the speaker again for good measure.

“Where’s the store owner?” calls out Night Hunter through the door.

“What’s that?” the drone scratches its head before turning back to the bigger changeling, “Are you done with counting shinies? I’m a bit lost here.”

Night Hunter sighs, partly in relief. There’s a drone involved, which means it’s almost certain that this is all a misunderstanding, especially with the top hole.

“Stay where you are!” he orders, and the drone nods before calling out.

“The big pony says we’re not supposed to move!”

The other one nods, stops fiddling with something on the counter, and simply sits down. Seeing that, Night Hunter flies up to the second floor of the store with one lit window covered by curtains, and knocks on it.

“We already tried tha- OW!” another member of the crowd earns Gloom’s attention, “That’s abuse, officer!”

“Ahm off duty!” Gloom resumes harmlessly slapping the pony with her wing.

Floating by the window, Night Hunter concentrates and his horseshoes start to shimmer a rusty red glow. Moments later, he vanishes and appears inside the lit room on the other side. A brown, earth pony mare is sitting at a desk, busy writing something on paper with a pencil in her mouth.

Night Hunter clears his throat. Nothing. He walks over, spotting an ear plug in the mare’s ear. It must be a top notch one. Finally, he waves his hoof holding a Nightguard badge so that the mare’s peripheral vision registers the movement. She catches on, breathes in to scream, but notices the badge before doing so. After Hunter taps his ear, she allows herself a scared nod and pulls the ear plugs out.

“My name is Night Hunter from Princess Luna’s Nightguard. Are you the owner of the Delicate Harmony store?” he asks just for confirmation.

“Uhh, yes, sir. What’s going on?”

“You didn’t hear anything strange over the past hour or so?”

“No, sir. It’s the ear plugs,” she shakes her head, “It took some searching but I finally got a Pinkie Pie proof brand.”

“I see,” Hunter nods, “Miss, your store seems to have been broken into by changelings-”

“What? Are they coming up here?!” she jumps to all fours and back off to Night Hunter while staring at the door.

“Calm down. They’re inside the store but I believe this might just be a misunderstanding. Let’s go, and stay behind me,” Hunter leads the way downstairs.

The two changelings are already looking at him, alerted by the creak of the staircase, both sitting exactly where they were when he told them to wait. The mare behind Hunter gasps and whispers:

“Be careful, they’re dangerous!”

“Go check your stock, Miss,” says Hunter in a firm but warm tone, “You, drone, move to the counter.”

Faced with a clear order, the drone walks over while the shopkeeper turns the lights on and starts checking the shelves with musical instruments for anything missing. As expected, dealing with a drone is the easy part. The silent one that looks more like a ranked changeling with zebra-like grey stripes and has done nothing so far other than watch the situation unfold might be a problem. However, a small bell in the back of Hunter’s mind starts ringing, but he can’t place it yet.

“You two are in trouble, you know that?”

“Gasp! How come?” the drone’s eyes widen.

“Did you just say ‘gasp’-? Nevermind,” Hunter shakes his head, “First, tell me why you’re in here.”

“We asked where we could trade a noise- har- harmonica,” the drone smiles, clearly proud of itself for remembering the word, “for shinies and a nice mare at the train station sent us here. She warned us that the door will be closed but we know how handles work- uhh… we thought we knew but this one’s weird. Luckily, we found the top hole and climbed inside,” it points to the fireplace again, and Hunter notices sooty hoofprints all over the floor, “Now we got the harmonica and we even left the right number of shinies under the sign,” it looks up at the ‘Pay here:’ sign hanging above the counter, “but we can’t get out because the top hole is too small to fly out. We still have time before our train arrives, but we don’t know how to get out.”

“We’ll get you out soon,” says Hunter, “Say, I have some experience with changelings, are you in charge of your group?”

“Nu uh,” the drone shakes its head, “Smiley is, but she can’t talk and you started talking to me, so…”

Smiley?

The little bell in the back of Night Hunter’s mind that started nagging him when he saw the slate around Smiley’s neck rings again, and this time he catches on.

“Hello, Smiley. My name is Night Hunter,” he looks at her, she blinks and furrows her brows, “65536 talks a lot about you, about anypony really, but it never mentioned that you look so much different from other drones.”

The mention of 65536 makes Smiley, well, smile, and she quickly scribbles on her tablet:

[Hello. Name Smiley. 65536 smart. Trouble?]

“Yes, you’re not supposed to enter a store when it’s closed. That’s against the law.”

[Door closed. No enter?]

“Not always,” Night Hunter pauses. It’s easy to see this is all a misunderstanding and some part of him wants to make sure the changelings don’t get in trouble again. Guards or police forces without changeling experience won’t be so forgiving , “Look. Ponies have work time and off time, and you can only visit stores during work time.”

[Pony worky time when?]

“Different stores have different opening hours…” Hunter sighs, “Usually, a good sign is when it’s dark.”

[No big shiny. No enter.]

His experience with 65536 prepared Hunter for this but it’s still difficult.

“Damn it, it’s winter so you won’t get sun at all. You know what? If a door doesn’t open and you don’t see anypony inside, don’t try other ways to get inside, okay?”

Smiley nods.

[Empty. No enter. No empty. Ask.]

“Yes, that’s better.”

[Thank you. Makes sense.]

“Good,” Hunter pats Smiley’s head despite feeling a little weird about it. It’s different with a drone, but doing that to someone who looks like a young mare even though she is drone-adjacent makes him feel a little creepy. However, it does wonders to put him at ease when Smiley sticks her tongue out and leans into the touch, “Hey, Miss shopkeeper, is anything missing or broken?”

The mare stops examining a grand piano in the corner and replies:

“One harmonica, plus the soot marks everywhere.”

“We put the shinies under the sign, Miss!” repeats the drone, “Smiley was just plussing all the numbers on the yellow-softs.”

“Miss, this all is a cultural misunderstanding,” Night Hunter raises his voice, ”The changelings wanted to purchase a harmonica, but they seem to be hive residents on a trip or something, and they’re not familiar with pony customs. Can we close this entire case along with the transaction?”

“And who’s gonna clean all this mess?” the mare points at the floor while walking towards the counter to confirm the payment.

“It’s ten minutes of mop work, Miss,” Hunter shoots her an unimpressed glance, “It’s tiles, not a carpet. I’ve done my fair share of cleaning in Canterlot barracks. Will ten extra bits cover it?”

“Fine…” she admits defeat, but Hunter knows she’s happy she squeezed something out of the situation.

“Hey, drone- what’s your rank?”

“99999, Mister Night Hunter.”

“Do you have ten bits to pay the mare to clean the floor you messed up?”

“The black stuff?” asks 99999, its tone not complaining but curious, reassuring Hunter that drones really are not like pony foals, “The whole top hole is full of it.”

“Yes, and that’s where it should have remained, but you trailed it everywhere,” explains the bat pony.

“Oh, I see!” the drone quickly rummages in its backpack, pulls out a couple coins, silently mouths something as it counts them, and adds them to the pile on the counter, “Sorry for the mess, Miss!”

“Just… go,” she pulls a keyring from under the counter, heads towards the door, and unlocks it, which Hunter takes as a sign the situation has been solved.

“See? The door didn’t open, because it was locked. If something is locked, you don’t go in there.”

With several gestures, the bat pony ushers Smiley and 99999 out of the store which the mare locks behind them. He breathes a sigh of relief when he sees Gloom sitting on a bench by the town hall, asleep and drooling over herself from the corner of her mouth, with the mob nowhere to be found. Both changelings follow Hunter as he approaches Gloom and shakes her by her shoulder.

“Whazza?” she wakes up immediately, confirming her unique status as a fully functional drunk.

“Problem solved, Gloom. Do you want me to take you to the hotel?”

“Ish fine,” she waves her hoof before looking down. However, once her eyes focus enough to spot 99999, her dazed behavior vanishes in a burst of newfound energy as she immediately stumbles over to the drone, grabs its cheeks, and squeezes. “Hoos the cutest little schlong ling?”

“Umm, I dunno?” 99999 scrunches its muzzle in thought, “There’s a bunch of us and-”

“Yoo are!” Gloom boops it.

“Gasp! Yaaay!” 99999 throws its forelegs into the air.

“Wanna pony ride, lil’ guy?”

“What’s that mean?” asks the drone.

“Hop on my back!”

“Ooooh!” something clicks in 99999’s head as it bounces on Gloom’s back while the mare theatrically prances around, “I like you, nice lady. You use easy drone words.”

“HAH!” Gloom stops and points at Night Hunter, “Innya face, BIG MUSCLE BIG BRAIN PONY!” she starts galloping around the square with the happily squee-ing drone on her back.

Night Hunter, on the other hoof, just sits down on the bench and looks at Smiley who hasn’t stopped watching 99999.

“Smiley, you said something about a train. How much time do you have? I’m asking just in case we have to chase Gloom around the town.”

Processing…

*Scribble scribble scribble.*

Smiley presents her tablet which shows a drawing of an analog clock along with [train 22:00. San Palomino].

“That’s plenty of time still, so we can have Gloom enjoy her company.”

“WE’RE GOING TO THE PLAYGROUND, DAD!” screams Gloom across half of the square before galloping off with 99999.

“See you at the train station in an hour!” calls out Night Hunter. It’s closer to two hours, but it’ll be good to know there’s a buffer, “And if you go on a merry-go-round, you have to clean the vomit off of 99999.”

Smiley takes a few quick steps towards the fleeing duo before Hunter stops her with a wing. In response, Smiley wibbles at Night Hunter while raising the tablet again.

“Let them have some fun,” he says, resisting the heart wrenching expression only thanks to the knowledge that he’s not doing anything wrong, “Gloom will bring 99999 back in time. She’s a responsible pony.”

That seems to work. Smiley breathes out, looks at her tablet, writes [Train], and slowly starts walking away. As much as Hunter would like to return to the massage parlor, he’s not comfortable leaving the strange changeling alone in a town that, minutes ago, hosted a mob with torches and pitchforks, no matter how small and confused said mob was.

“Smiley, would you like to have dinner with me?” he asks, “We can have some train station hay fries and wait for 99999. On the way, we can stop by the massage parlor to tell the sisters I’ll be late.”

[Responsible. Only shinies for ticket. 99999 got shinies for things.]

“I’m buying- trading,” Hunter gives her an encouraging smile.

[Nothing to trade. Sorry.]

“Hmm. How about I buy you something tasty and you tell me why you two changelings are on the road alone at this time of year?”

As usual, Smiley briefly ponders it before smiling at Night Hunter.

[Trade words? Can do!]

***

“Is 387 around?” asks 156, entering the throne room.

“On a scale of one to ten, how annoyed do I look?” replies Chrysalis from the throne.

“Hmmm,” 156 squints while approaching, “You look as if 387 has been gone for a couple hours already.”

“Heh, I must getting better at hiding it or the old glitterbug is finally growing on me,” Chrysalis snickers, “He just left. Either he somehow avoided you or he went up to the surface. So, how did it go?”

“Message received, I’d say,” 156 shrugs, “10k will plan out rebuilding their cavern entrance for the next shifts and it seemed pretty relieved that it won’t have to send more drones out to try and recover the reconstitution chamber site under the current circumstances. It’s not as if they could actually succeed during a rock worm migration.”

“156, you’ve been hanging out with 387 too much. Obviously, I know how the drones would react to those two orders. You know I was asking about the mind control resistance.”

The top infiltrator shrugs.

“I don’t know what to add to 415’s report, Your Majesty. The drone I tested was fully controllable unless I was trying to make it do something it specifically didn’t want to.”

“You don’t look troubled by that,” Chrysalis raises an eyebrow.

“We should be way past the times when we told them to jump over deep pits without using wings for fun, and the drones are surprisingly reasonable about doing dangerous work for the good of the hive,” explains 156 calmly. Just the fact that she can say this directly into the Queen’s face is a sign that times are different.

“Acceptable,” the Queen nods, “What if they just one day say that they’ve had enough of mining for us, though?”

“HAH!” 156 actually laughs at Chrysalis which makes the Queen bare one fang. The infiltrator notices and bows, “My apologies, Your Majesty, but drones not wanting to dig stuff? Isn’t that, like, against the laws of physics? Besides, it’s not as if mind control is our only option. As you obviously know better than anyone else,” 156 tilts her head, “So how about you tell me what really bothers you?”

“Their militarization,” Chrysalis sighs, “I’ve got half a mind to make sure 99111 and 99856 have an… accident.”

“Do you mean the acid bombs? Those they store by the entrance to their cavern? Have you ever seen a drone throw them?” this time 156 raises an eyebrow, “Even 2119 and 3012 could dodge those indefinitely.”

“Alright, fine, I get it,” Chrysalis frowns, “Still, what if they stop mining and somehow prepare some kind of mines that can harm us?”

“We starve them out.”

“What if they attack us with their bombs and the flamethrower they’re trying to fix.”

“We collapse all access tunnels and starve them out.”

“They’ll just dig-!”

“YOUR MAJESTY!” 156 raises her voice, “This is unbecoming of you. Plus, my answer remains the same - if, by some unbelievable twist of fate, drones turn on us with their… experiments, AND if those experiments become realistically threatening, we just leave and wait for them to starve. They couldn’t stay here and they would lose access to most of the higher tiers of the hive mind. How many do you think would even make it to the nearest pony settlement? Would it matter if they did? They can’t hold enough love to maintain the supply routes like we do. They can’t survive as a group without us, and they know it, at least the few who bother thinking about such high level problems. And, of course, we need them in order to continue our way of life unless we want to assimilate into the pony population or unless you’ve somehow discovered a nagging desire to start swinging a pickaxe, Your Majesty.”

Chrysalis takes a deep breath.

“Hmph, I really do have to keep you and 387 away from each other. The lack of respect is spreading,” she admits, “Still, I admit I may have overestimated the impact of the drone mind control resistance in the long run. I might have to rethink some potential futures.”

“Don’t mistake my lack of fear for lack of respect, Your Majesty. I’ve never respected you more than these days.You have earned it not with rank or power but with results. I don’t doubt the same can be said for 387 or the drones themselves,” says 156, and Chrysalis can’t sense anything other than honesty from her words, “And I think the best you can do is, instead of trying to stop the drones, help them channel their… creative recklessness in a constructive way. Who knows? They might turn out to be your best asset if guided correctly.”

“Sometimes I wish 1 was still around and not screwing around being a succubus,” Chrysalis sighs.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Chrysalis shakes her head, flies down from the throne, stops right in front of 156, and looks her directly in the eyes, “Tell me, 156. Would you execute any drone I told you to?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” 156 looks back sternly, “But I would be disappointed in both you and myself for misjudging you.”

“And would you execute 387 on my orders?”

“I would try to, but I would very likely fail and be happy about it,” replies 156, and once again Chrysalis can’t sense any lie there, “I am not the duelist kind of infiltrator, he’s immune to changeling mind tricks in general, and it would be an order directly detrimental to the hive.”

“I suppose that gives me all the answers I needed,” Chrysalis walks past 156 towards the fireplace with the tea kettle and longingly looks at it, “You know what? I have one more critical mission for you.”

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Tell 10k to send someone for wood. It’s holes-damn freezing here, and if it gets worse I’m moving in with the drones.”

***

99000 squeezes through the crack leading to the High Score Cavern during worky time. Unlike last time when Chrysalis thought a simple drone transformation would be enough of a cover, this time she’s concentrating on shielding her mind as well, on top of adding a general hive mind influence supposed to make it so that her presence isn’t questioned by anyone even though she’s a drone no one knows and who’s not working.

Hmph! They’re still not fixing the entrance. I assumed my order would have more weight.

A quick mental scan of the vicinity reveals four other drones present. One is resting inside an alcove, its hive link revealing a recent leg injury. The other three are 10k, 99111, and 99856. From Chrysalis’ previous experience as 99000, the latter two would be fiddling with something in their workshops in the back, and 10k is sitting under the statue of High Score, its back propped against the statue’s hind legs.

“Hello,” 99000 approaches 10k. From this close it can see the drone leader is drawing on a tablet made of soft resin using a sharp stick of granite while most of its mental capacity is occupied with something in the hive mind. The greeting returns 10k fully into the corporeal world, and the drone leader looks up and smiles.

“Hi, 99000. Do you need anything?”

At least this mental trick is working fine.

“I’m just curious,” says 99000, “How come there are so many drones who aren’t in the tunnels?”

Chrysalis’ mental influence prevents 10k from pondering why 99000 would be asking that since it’s here as well, and the drone leader smirks.

“I’m trying out something new based on the Queen's orders from previous worky time,” 10k looks up and taps its tablet with the stone stick. Disguised Chrysalis looks at it, unable to make anything out of the lines scattered seemingly at random. She briefly skims the most recent memories of 10k and quickly translates the lines as references leading into the drone section of the hive mind serving as temporary storage. For a drone, not just instinctively using but deliberately utilizing both its head as well as the hive mind at the same time for increased information access is downright unique.

Is 387 teaching drones some centuries-lost mental abilities I don’t know? That would explain the mind control as well. Unfortunately, if I ask him it’ll be a coin toss if he lies or not.

“Oh, what’s that?”

“We don’t have to dig daily anymore, so I wonder if it’ll be better if we focus just on surveying during some worky times and dig in full during others, or some mix of both. Plus, we can also work on things that might be useful for all of us, and I think 99111’s tinkering and 99856’s goop experiments can help more than the two of them digging all the time. I had to promise them they’d be allowed to dig too, though. 99856 even said it would do it during breaky time if it had to,“ 10k lets out a surprisingly dark chuckle, “I hope I don’t screw up too badly with the new planning, but if I do it’ll be up to me to explain and hopefully the high ranks won’t punish any of you,” 10k looks at 99000 and completely misjudges its purely curious expression, “Don’t worry. So far it looks promising.”

“I guess that’s why you’re the drone leader.”

“Heh,” 10k chuckles, “Leading is all I have left since I’m not much of a drone anymore,” it presents one of its shredded and broken forelegs, “I can’t dig anymore without passing out from pain and if I carry anything heavier on my back, everything cracks and starts oozing and grinding.”

Yes, an opening!

“You can do a mental trick I can’t, so the leading must have ‘led you’ in a new direction,” 99000 points at the resin tablet.

“You can sense that, newbie?” 10k smiles, “Neat. You should talk to 99380, you might have some special hive mind talent too if you can feel what someone is doing. What I’m doing is planning out next worky time activities inside the hive mind while using the tablet for notes so that I don’t forget something. Thinking gets overwhelming.”

It’s not lying as such, probably just simplifying it for a newly hatched drone.

“Can you teach me?” asks 99000, 10k ponders it, and shakes its head.

“The voice taught me this, and it works kinda on… instinct?” 10k rubs its chin, “Sorry, I barely know how to explain it to myself, much less teach you. If you really want to know, try calling out into the hive mind for the voice and it might teach you. Don’t worry if it doesn’t answer, though,” 10k shrugs and pats 99000’s neck because that’s as far as it can reach from its position, “As far as I know, it’s only talked to me, 99380, and 99111.”

“Who or what is it?” 99000 momentarily leans closer before Chrysalis controls her urge to bare her fangs and threaten the information out of 10k. The idea of an unchecked hive mind entity is bringing back seriously unpleasant memories.

“A friend, that’s all I know,” replies 10k, unbothered, “It can sometimes answer questions, sometimes we just chat, or it can give you a new perspective on something.”

“How long have you known this ‘voice’?” Chrysalis can’t help slipping into an interrogative rhythm.

“Waaaay before you hatched, 99000,” 10k waves its foreleg with the writing stick stuck inside its hoof, “I think my old friend 36658 created it somehow,” it points at the drone statue to the left.

BULLSHIT! Did one of the old Queens survive my purge? No… no, that’s impossible. Calm down, Chrysalis. It’s something new. Can the hive mind produce some weird entity on its own? Holes I wish they were really just making bombs in an attempt to overthrow me or something stupid like that. No matter, 10k believes what it’s saying so that’s all I’m getting here.

“Hey, 99000?” 10k speaks out while Chrysalis is still working through the idea of some hive mind oddity existing without her knowledge.

“Hm? Yes?”

“Could you please give me some time? My worky time might not be full of digging, but I’m far from finished with thinking and planning. I still have to figure out what material to use for the new door the Queen ordered us to make, for one.”

“Yeah, sure,” 99000 turns around and looks up at the ceiling while taking a long breath.

“If you want to see what the others are doing, go ahead. They never had this much time for their work before so they might want someone to talk to and relax for a moment.”

“I think I’ll go see how’s the digging going down there,” says 99000 and immediately concentrates on smoothing out any suspicion in 10k’s mind that might make it ask why a newbie drone isn’t down there and digging already. Without the option for an inquisitive reaction, 10k just says:

“Good idea. The more you learn before heading off to dig on your own, the greater the chance that you’ll come back. Oh, and don’t forget to visit 99856 and grab one emergency cocoon goop for yourself. They’re not easy to make but they’re super helpful in case of trouble, and it’s supposed to always have a spare or two ready.”

Emergency cocoon? Do I examine what that is or do I look for the hive mind entity first? Can I do both? No, I’m going to need full focus if I’m to find something that’s been evading every casual search so far.

“I’ll visit the little alchemist later,” says 99000 and simply walks away, its lingering mental cover preventing 10k from even thinking that something’s off.

No resistance to this kind of manipulation. Good to know.

***

Despite it not snowing in the Badlands today, the temperature on the surface has reached record lows once again. The frost shouldn’t be dangerous for two changelings guarding the hive entrance but, like day after day since the start of winter, the duty has fallen to 2119 and 3012. As an experiment regarding what would suit them better, the two have swapped 65536’s presents - the warrior is wearing the cap while the infiltrator is testing the scarf.

“Do you ever wonder why we’re here?” asks the warrior.

“Do you mean from a philosophical perspective or why we’re specifically freezing our asses up here again?” the infiltrator raises an eyebrow in response.

“You’re making it seem as if we’re on a scout mission and supposed to be quiet,” 3012 rolls his eyes and looks around at the seemingly endless white plain spreading as far as the eye can see. With the obvious exception of the hive behind the two, of course, “Elaborate, practice your eloquence, live a little. Even if someone somehow wanted to invade the Badlands we’d see them with enough spare time to evacuate the entire hive and give the drones time to finish their shift.”

“True,” admits 2119, “The philosophical perspective is simple - the Queen needed a warrior and an infiltrator to pair up in order to bolster each other’s weaknesses. The specific reason is even simpler - unless we somehow prove we deserve a higher rank and a better posting, 156 will keep sending us here to freeze our balls off because, you know, if we sit down we risk getting a splinter from our asses grinding against the bottom of the barrel.”

3012 snickers.

“Maybe I’ll get your rank. I’m not the one vibrating like the door of the throne room ever since 65536 brought the Queen recharged battery crystals yesterday.”

“What a grand promotion that would be. Does that mean I’ll be standing on the left side of the entrance and you on the right?” 2119 laughs, “I must admit I’m impressed that you haven’t even twitched despite the cold. Is that some secret warrior trick you’ve been saving for the really bad days?”

“Silly infiltrator,” 3012 smirks at his counterpart, twisting his neck to look at 2119 who narrows his eyes in to examine the warrior better, “Unlike with your kind, frostbite stands no chance against a warrior’s determination, resilience, and sense of duty. ”

2119 walks over and shoves 3012 who only bends to the side without his hooves moving before straightening back up.

“All we infiltrators need are good eyes and a brain,” says 2019, “Your hooves have frozen to the ground, haven’t they?”

“Next you’ll tell me that I’m storing that icicle that’s growing on my chin to use as a can opener, eye-brain,” finally not having to hide it, 3012 strains his legs to move and only his left hind hoof breaks off with a crack, “Greeeat. Now to figure out how to bend enough to fix the damn cap.”

Shaking his head, 2119 walks over and repositions the gifted woolen cap on the warrior’s head so that it’s no longer slowly slipping over one eye.

“Thanks, but you could help me melt the ice too,” comments 3012, straining again and successfully freeing his other hind leg.

“That would be less funny,” 2119 returns to his spot, “We still have six hours of sentry duty left. If you don’t make it by then I’ll help.”

“Hnnngh!” 3012 heaves with his entire body while pushing himself backwards by his hind legs, “HOLES!”

All he manages is to slide his hind legs on the ice between his forelegs and slip into a sitting position. 2119 gasps and puts a hoof theatrically over his mouth.

“Sitting on the job? That’s it! I’m going straight to the throne room and reporting this to 156.”

“You just want to hide and warm up,” counters the warrior, “But sure. While you’re there, ask her if we can stay guarding on the inside side of the entrance today.”

“Let’s not go crazy, she’ll strangle me with the scarf 65536 gave me.”

“I can take care of it until you come back,” 3012 finds a moment to wink at the infiltrator while still attempting to get back up despite his forelegs stuck to the ground, “Besides, she wouldn’t dare. 65536 would give her a sad look if she ruined the scarf and she knows that.”

The two exchange glances.

“Oof,” 2119 winces as if slapped, “Maybe I could say that 65536 might even wibble at her if it finds us frozen up here.”

“Whoa whoa whoa there, buggo!” 3012 finally manages to shuffle enough to return back to standing position despite the ice underneath, “That’s a credible threat against a top rank. We used to get thrown into the Crusher for less in the old days.”

“Specifically by the threatened top rank most of the time,” 2119 chuckles, “On the other hole, if we were dead, we wouldn’t be this cold.”

“Tempting, tempting,” 3012 finally gives up on trying to free himself using force and spits a wad of corrosive goo on his hoof, which harmlessly slides down and melts the ice within seconds. Slightly disappointed in himself, he stomps around a bit to get the blood flowing, “So, do we attempt a coup today or tomorrow?”

“Eeeh,” 2119 looks at the sky, “Let’s ask 156 first if we can stand in the entry hall, maybe open a window in the wall or something. The order goes - figure out how to get clothes, survive as long as you can, ask normally, attempt a coup, wibble.”

“If you want to prove yourselves to get a better posting then maybe you should be at least aware of your closest surroundings,” growls a male voice from behind that makes both sentry changelings stand up straight so quickly their bones and carapace crack. The playful atmosphere vanishes instantly as 415 walks out of the hive, past the duo, and looks into the distance, “Has 745 returned from her mission yet?”

“With the exception of 65536, no one has arrived in the past two days,” reports 2119 matter-of-factly, quickly checking the accessible hive mind mission schedule for 745’s expected return, “She’s only nine hours late. That doesn’t mean anything in this weather.”

“Yeah, I know,” says 415 sharply before turning around and facing the sentries, “Tell me, what do you think of the Queen’s order to give drones more time to mine things the hive doesn’t need to finance its operations?”

3012 looks at 2119. In this suddenly official setting, it’s not a good idea to speak before a higher rank. The infiltrator understands and briefly thinks about it.

“It doesn’t seem like a problem to me,” he shrugs, “Maybe they’ll accidentally figure out something useful to do with the new materials. In fact, now that I think of it, why aren’t we ranked changelings doing some research of our own? Not to dismiss drone creativity, but if I had to place a bet on who would be the first to invent something new and useful for the hive it would be an infiltrator with outside knowledge. 3012?”

“Considering that even we are working with more love than the high ranks in the top hundred did in the old days and there’s a rather low chance of running out due to our improved diplomatic relations with ponies. I see no issue with investing more into hive development, scattershot approach it may be, instead of over-focusing on supply routes,” says the warrior, clearly on edge around the second highest ranked warrior of the hive.

415 deliberately looks at the infiltrator.

“Exactly, 2119, we should be the ones deciding the hive’s directions, and the drones exist to supply us with what we need. The Queen and her new… advisors seem to be of a different opinion,” he nods sideways to 3019, “When even a rank like 3012 understands it’s the wrong move, the hive might be in real danger,” when neither of the sentries reply, 415 turns away, “Oh, by the way, drones are now resisting mind control. Let that sink in.”

As the 2119 and 3012 exchange surprised glances, 415 starts walking off into the wide, white expanse of the Badlands. 3012 opens his mouth but 2119 catches it as if he was expecting it to happen and stretches, raising his foreleg straight into the air with a weak green glimmer passing through it which even 3112 notices and looks at the leg. There’s a simple message written in white on the black chitin:

“Don’t say anything!”

One quick stretch later during which the message on 2119’s foreleg vanishes, the sentries resume simply staring into the distance and observing as the black dot of 415 slowly disappears. After fifteen or so minutes, 2119 lets out a long sigh before quietly speaking out:

“This should be far enough. I didn’t want him to hear, see, or sense anything we would say. This way we acted just like two dumb sentries, a wall of lowest ranks.”

“What was that all about?!” exasperation creeps into 3012 quiet voice, mirroring 2119’s, “I recall higher ranks being thrown into the Crusher for less. Should we tell anyone?”

“Tell anyone what? That rank 415 is worried about the hive because drones can’t be mind controlled or something? If that’s true then it is worrying,” counters the infiltrator, “Best case scenario, we get called idiots. Worst case, we will be the ones suspected of sowing mistrust in the hive. Wait, no. Here’s the real worst case scenario - they interrogate 415, don’t find anything suspicious enough and he realizes who told on him. I’ve lived through the coup attempt that happened eight years ago, and I know the rebels always have a trick up their sleeve because reading their mind is always the first choice.”

“There was a coup attempt eight years ago?” 3012 scratches his head, “I don’t remember.”

“Nothing major,” 2119 chuckles, “They relied on the hive mind too much and 1 tracked them out. Over fifty high ranks simply disappeared within one evening. She would have eaten me too but said I wasn’t worth the time spent chewing.”

“Wait, you were a rebel?”

“No. I was just close to one of them. They didn’t even try to recruit me. With the amount of love someone of my rank used to get, it’s not like I could have done anything in case of a scrap.”

“I guess it’s different for us warriors. A body blocking a hit is always useful. Back to the topic, though - are you saying we shouldn’t do anything?”

“I’m saying that we should be extremely careful and that the best thing we can do right now is think about it. There’s a good chance that 415 was really just worried and gathering others’ thoughts on the situation, that’s all.”

“I mean, sure?” 3012 admits with hesitation, more trying to persuade himself than anything else, “Besides, there are only twenty or so ranked changelings in the hive right now anyway. Would it really matter if the coup idea was real and he got ten or fifteen of them on his side? Most of us Canterlot survivors are around the thousand rank and they’d be against the Queen, 99, 156, and 387. You know what? Now that I say it out loud, it would be suicide.”

“See? We must be overreacting,” 2119 forces a smile, “Hey, how about I go and ask 156 if we can stand inside after all?”

“Ohhh no, you tried this trick already,” 3019 shakes his head, “If we’re doing this, I’m the one going inside.”

“Fiiine,” 2119 smirks in a suspiciously not-defeated fashion. 3019 realizes why when he tries to move and fails, “Oh, hooves frozen again?”

“I can’t overstate the amount of hatred I’m feeling right now. How come it’s not happening to you?” 3019 heaves and manages to free his hind legs much easier this time.

“You know what?” 2119 walks over and helps the warrior free himself again, “If they don’t let us inside I’ll teach you the transformation, how about that?”

“Then what are you waiting for? Move! Move!”

With a relieved laugh, 2119 disappears into the darkness of the hive.

***

There are only two hive link signatures near this specific small cave despite it being close to the surface and to the hive’s entrance. Any useful materials were mined out ages ago, and it’s too inconveniently placed to be a general storage space. Despite that, there are strange markings scattered over the floor, walls, and the ceiling. They’re not numbers or letters, no unicorn could identify them as magical symbols, and even changelings could only guess they might be some kind of hive mind references they’re not allowed to access. For now, however, the symbols aren’t important. What is important is 65536’s cart standing by one wall with its cargo strewn around in various stages of messiness. 387 and 65536 are sitting on the floor, surrounded by stacks of colored papers, ribbons, and loads of cardboard.

“I’ve been counting,” says the warrior out of nowhere after hours of patient work, “and there can’t be enough cardboard, wrapping paper, and ribbons to individually wrap every single present that’s on the cart.”

“Doesn’t have to be,” replies 65536, unbothered, while briefly transforming its hooves into claws to tie a ribbon, “A lot of what I brought aren’t presents, but a special surprise for everyone that I’ll start working on once we’re finished wrapping the rest up for Hard Swarming Eve. I already got permission from the Queen, all I’m going to need are helping hooves for the next couple days.”

“I suppose drones are out of the question, with the whole surprise thing, right?”

“Mhm,” 65536 nods.

“I’ll have to check up with Chrysalis if I’ll be free to-”

“That’s okay, 99 already volunteered, and I’m allowed to grab anyone else who isn’t busy if I need to,” says 65536.

“The surprise must be something pretty big if Chrysalis gave you this level of lingpower.”

“Yup!” the drone beams, “I spent all my saved-up shinies as well as some gems I got from 10k and 99380 last winter but it’ll be worth every single one.”

“Shinies, gems, and winter? That’s partial pony speak!” 387 snickers and 65536 joins in.

“Hmmm, shinies and freezy time or bits, gems, and winter?” muses the drone before making a decision, “What my head comes up with first is what I get.”

They resume working in silence. Before 65536 can get lost in the monotonous gift wrapping work again, one critical question surfaces.

“387?”

“Mhm?”

“Do you… do you know anything about 20100, 47989, or Smiley? I didn’t see them around during breaky time and I can’t sense their links anywhere. I wanted to ask 10k but… it looked like it had enough on its plate already.”

387 pauses and sighs.

“Sooner than later it is then…”

“Oh no,” 65536’s ears droop.

“47989 is dead. 10k reported it after Chrysalis told you to go to sleep,” says 387 like ripping off a bandage, “A shaft collapsed due to a rock worm passage and it didn’t make it out.”

After a moment of silence, 65536 braces for the worst.

“And the other two?”

“As peculiar as it may sound, 20100 is away on a mission,” 387 opts for good news next. 65536 gasps.

“Wait, a proper mission mission? Like the ones you high ranks go on?” the drone’s eyes go wide as its realization grows.

“I haven’t been on one in a long time, but yes, exactly like that,” 387 nods, “Chrysalis even sent an infiltrator who has experience in working with drones to escort it.”

“Oh woooow. That’s… something,” 65536 is at loss for words and just starts grinning like an idiot. No matter how heavy the death of another veteran drone is, the fact that a drone was sent on a mission for the first time ever is a historic occasion, “I don’t know what to say. I’ll just leave its present here then, but… wow,” the rollercoaster of emotion in 65536’s face returns once again to its downward slope, “And Smiley?”

“Hmmm…” 387 rubs his chin.

You know it’s bad when explaining the dead one was the easy part.

***

“...ow ow ow ow…” 10k clutches its head, drops its tablet, and keels over onto the cold floor. If it could control its mouth, it would be doing more than just weakly groaning. The pain itself isn’t as bad as when it tried to dig last worky time but the fact that it originates deep inside its head makes it so much worse.

The worst part? It didn’t even do anything wrong. No digging, no carrying heavy things, just thinking and planning shifts for the next six worky times.

At least it’s done. The agony is a small price to pay for everyone to cycle through the first split survey and digging assignments as well as rebalancing the dronepower to accommodate 99111 and 99856 working mostly on their workshop projects and the amount of currently recovering drones. This way, no one should be so exhausted after worky time that they would miss out on secret activities that 65536 has in store for breaky times.

With the exception of myself, because I’m sure some of those will be physical activities, but that’s okay.

Everything is ready.

10k has no clue how much time passes before the splitting headache gradually turns into periodic pulses of dull pain due to it not being able to count right now and attempting to access any “automatic” or instinctive function results in the pain getting worse. Digging hurts, carrying hurts, thinking hurts.

Two years and I haven’t gotten better at all, and all the new thinking is causing THIS. Who am I if I can’t be a proper drone?

While the cold floor doesn’t answer, it helps with the constant throbbing, and 10k eventually finds that it can think again, as little as it wants to. Thankfully, that also means 10k can finally recall that it has a supply of edible agonyslayers from 57999 in its stash. All that’s left is to crawl over there.

Why did it only start hurting after I stopped working? I’m not complaining, but why all the pain at once?

10k crawls over to its stash positioned in an alcove on the bottom floor for easy access which a drone cleared out for it after their return from the island cruise, pulls a hoofful of tiny balls of hardened goop out of a stone bowl, stares at them for a moment and, as tempted as it is to just empty it, swallows only half of them. One quick internal transformation allowing its body to absorb the pills later, 10k curls up in its alcove and lets the agonyslayers gradually knock it out.

“Talk to 99,” whispers the voice.

***

“Twelve, thirty-seveeeeen!” 99971 calls out when the other two quicktrotters come into view, its voice echoing through the pitch black tunnel with the only visible marks being the three drones’ bioluminescent eyes.

“Not bad, but I don’t think we’ll be breaking any more records this worky time,” replies 99012, sitting by the shaft’s wall with a load of black-crunchy wrapped in a green cocoon, ready for transport, “I can barely feel my leggos at this point. What run is this? Five?”

“Yup! It was so nice of 10k to give us this place to practice runs,” muses 99066, ready with its own cargo as well but still resting after its previous run, “We should do something for it. Did any of you dig out something nice?”

“Nu uh, only loads of black-crunchy,” replies 99012 as it and 99971 shake their heads, “It’s crazy how much there is. We could be digging here for whole worky times without running out.”

“Yeah, not at all like yellow-soft or shinies in general,” adds 99971, “With this being a side project to work on only during the new, uhh, ‘experimental phase of worky time’ as 10k called it, we might still be here next freezy time.”

“Great chance to polish our runs,” 99066 nods, “More of a reason to find a way to thank 10k. Since breaky time is almost here, how about we carry this load to 99856 and ask if 10k needs something we can help with?”

“It was asleep while I was unloading the last batch,” 99971 shakes its head, “And when I came closer to check, a strange voice I’ve never heard before told me to let it rest.”

“Huh, weird,” comments 99012 but shrugs. It’s not as if voices in one’s head are something unusual here in the hive, “Alright then, let’s get this batch to 99856.”

“Wait, let me dig out some more,” 99971 rushes over to the black dead end of the tunnel and quickly starts scooping the black coal out of the wall with its glowing hooves, “Or I can catch up, my leggos are barely even shaking from the last run anymore.”

“We’ll wait,” says 99066 after it looks at 99012 and the two nod at each other. They would offer to help dig, but there’s enough coal everywhere around, it has no resistance to digging, and they would just get under each other’s hooves in the small tunnel, “I don’t have any plans for breaky time and my next digging assignment will be in two worky times,” 99066 sends some extra information via the other two’s hive links, “In case you didn’t have the time to check it yet, 10k made a nice list in the hive mind with everyone’s assignments. Hey, I can see you two here too.”

In the next three quarters of an hour, the trio of drones return to the High Score Cavern with their cargo, pass still unconscious 10k, and enter the workshop section.

“99856, can we come in? We have three more batches of black-crunchy.”

“Yup. Just add it to the big pile in the back of the laboratory,” replies the drone ‘chemist’, “I’m in the testing room.”

“Do you need any more?” asks 99066 as the trio pass the testing grounds entrance, enter the lab, melt the cocoons holding the coal, and unload the cargo on a now large pile in the corner, “I don’t mind digging a bit during breaky time but this place is getting full.”

“I think I’m gonna need a LOT of this stuff!” replies 99856, “And 10k already asked the Queen for more storage space, I just haven’t dug it out yet. Check the map.”

As stated, the map contains rooms marked in different colors protruding from the dead end of the corridor.

“I don’t mind doing that,” says 99971, “I don’t have anything to trade this breaky time and I haven’t dug anything in a while… besides the black-crunchy. My hoofsies are itching.”

“Let me help,” adds 99012, “That way we’ll have it dug out, reinforced, and all smoothed out in the new way in no time. 99066? Are you in too?”

“I don’t think so,” the last quicktrotter measures the future storage room’s dimensions, “While you two dig, I can bring more black-crunchy to fill it. Gotta practice my timings to secure the record for that route. Hey, 99856, were you listening?”

“Yup!” confirms the chemist, “And I think I’ll have something to trade for all that work later. This black-crunchy stuff is NEAT.”

“Alrighty, guys. Let’s split,” says 99066.

99066 leaves the other quicktrotters as they move towards the dead end of the tunnel, excited for some proper drone digging through hard rock, and casually trots back to the coal deposit. Before it resumes digging, it reassesses the stability of the area and frowns. As useful as coal might be, it does little to support the weight of the ground above.

We’re bound to need to add proper supports later. So… what’s the best way to dig so that the whole place doesn’t collapse on me?

99066 stomps its hoof against the rocky floor and closes its eyes to feel the resonance better. This area is unexplored, based on the hive map, which is understandable due to the changeling lack of need for coal, and it senses something peculiar not too far underneath - a rocky shell like that of a cavern with something completely stopping the resonance from returning underneath it.

Hmm, that’s more dampening than empty air so it doesn’t feel like a hollow cavern. Maybe some entirely new material for 99856 to play with?

A dangerous level of curiosity is critical for quicktrotters, because no “sane” drone would eagerly jump into a skip that might transport it into the deepest underground without air, into magma, or into the most dangerous place ever - the throne room, and said curiosity wins. 99066 marks the hive map with “weird material” note at the presumed location, and starts digging downwards in an easily escapable slope. The ground gradually turns wet and slightly sticky, warning 99066 that the layer above the word stuff might not be solid rock but just rocky matter with cracks the wetness is seeping through. However, the drone has dug around water before and whatever this is is different.

Its hoof breaks the floor and sinks into something warm, wet, packed like mud, and…

…green like goop?

The drone doesn’t have time to ponder because it wasn’t counting on the material being this viscous. It steadies itself with a free foreleg and pulls the other one sticking through back up. The surface integrity must have been damaged by its digging, however,and the ground starts crumbling underneath, revealing a cavern the drone didn’t sense at all due to the “material”. It flails its legs in an attempt to catch onto something, only causing the hole it’s in to widen, so it spreads its wings just as it falls through the layer of green goo which covers them and makes them stick together after just a quick buzz.

99066 drops like a rock, able only to see the approaching floor covered in the same, green, slightly luminescent goo. Then comes the impact.

*Plop!*

“Huh?” 99066 sits up, blinking in shock from still being in one piece and feeling only a little pain under its carapace despite dropping from a dangerous height. Like a good, curious drone it is, it pokes the strange slime as an experiment. Unlike when it accidentally dug through the ceiling, the prod doesn’t break the surface tension of the slime and the upper layer simply gives in without spilling anything. Considering the fall didn’t make everything splatter either, it shouldn’t come as a surprise.

“Weeeeird,” the drone concludes its science project, “It’s like the goop pool back home, only even softer. Wait, is it moving?”

Finally, it looks around and realizes that the glowing green slime isn’t just an immobile layer, but a mass of something alive.

Something drawing closer.

Oops!: 1

Despite it being breaky time, two drones are currently walking far away from the High Score Cavern, deep in the tunnels. 65536 is on edge as bad memories of the old days come flooding back. The loneliness, the necessary hiding whenever one wasn’t working, no safe place to rest, the need to keep a secret stash-

65536 takes a deep breath. Those times are gone. 10k is right when it says they might come back at some point, but one can’t be weighed down by them.

“I know we’re pretty deep, but it’s safe here, even though there’s no digging going on during worky time anymore,” says 65536's companion 99200, sensing the tension in the air. The guard drone is nervously looking into the darkness of the tunnel, its ears twitching, scanning for any sign of danger, “I camp out here pretty often, and if there’s something wriggling around it smells different. In my experience, freezy time makes the gribblers move away somewhere.”

“Force of habit,” 65536 scrunches its nose and lowers its head closer to the floor, “To me, some of the marks in the disturbed dust look like hoofsteps, too big for a drone on top of that. No gribbler might have walked through here recently, but a changeling did, I think. Speaking of freezy time, I don’t remember you from my last visit,” despite the tracks, the drone’s quick mental scan reveals nothing. Not that it means much, because a drone would never sense a high rank trying to hide their presence.

“I hatched a couple cycles after you left. 10k told me a tunnel collapsed on someone so they needed a replacement, and then shared some of the noms you'd brought with me,” explains 99200, briefly going quiet and listening as hard as it can, “I liked the yellow goop ones covered in brown soft crunchy the most.”

“Banana jelly in chocolate!” 65536 nods, the mention putting it at ease for just a brief second, “I like those too. This year I brought those with coconut on top. You’ll see on Hard Swarming Eve.”

Unfortunately for 99200, 65536’s nervousness quickly returns, so the explorer drone asks:

“Do you want me to be quiet for a while to make sure we are alone? I can see you’re not comfortable here.”

“Could you, please?” 65536 smiles at the other drone, “Something feels off to me and I can’t figure out what. Sorry if it bothers you.”

“Not at all. This is the first time I’m not here alone,” 99200 shrugs, stops talking, and concentrates on walking as quietly as it can to give 65536 space.

“Thank you,” 65536’s heartbeat gradually stops deafening it as the two walk in silence. The guard drone perks up its ears and starts filtering out their own hoofsteps, breathing, the grinding of chitin, and all the other almost unnoticeable noises of their presence.

Nothing.

After several minutes of walking down the sloping tunnel, 65536 admits defeat because it can’t catch anything despite not getting rid of the feeling of eyes watching it from the back for even a second. On the other hoof, after several more moments, that feeling turns into the familiar wariness of performing a night patrol in Canterlot and that finally makes the drone comfortable.

“You know, it’s pretty unusual for a drone to prefer wandering alone,” comments 65536, finally at ease as much as a drone in the deep tunnels can be, “That’s one of the things I miss in Canterlot - hug piles. I tried to organize one a couple times, but no one with the exception of Miss Gloom was interested, and two just aren’t a proper pile. They kept saying something about orgies, but I have no idea what flowers have to do with anything. Some pony habits are plain weird.”

“When I said I camped outside of the High Score Cavern often, I meant once every three or four sleepy times. It’s a good survival practice in case I can’t flee quickly enough or get stuck somewhere. Plus, you can sometimes find weird stuff you don’t get to examine while you’re busy with digging like… did you notice the webs and goop the guys are using as padding under the slide?”

“I was wondering where those came from! So that was you?”

“Yup! There’s a ravine not too far from here full of those, but I think it’s too cold for leggy spinners during freezy time. 10k asked me to get some more for 99856 and 99111 and in return I can now carry a sticky goop egg with me in addition to the emergency cocoon.”

“If you want some suggestions about what to do with spiderwebs, I’ve got plenty.”

“99380 wanted to make a sports area, but we didn’t figure out how to arrange the space we had and in the end we couldn’t find a drone with the right kind of bouncy goop to make a ball.”

“Awww, that’s a pity. Sporty games are fun, but they can burn a lot of energy, so in the end the Queen would have to allow it anyway.”

“10k said the same thing- ah hah!” 99200 stops and points left towards a gravel-y section of the tunnel by the floor contrasting with the solid rock everywhere else. As 65536 leans in to examine it, the survivalist drone adds, “That’s the spot. All you gotta do is clear the gravel and dirt out, no need to dig. Watch me!”

With practiced ease, 99200 quickly shovels the material out of a rocky alcove similar in size to those in the High Score Cavern, revealing space into which a drone could snugly fit.

“Cozy,” 65536 nods approvingly, “How did you manage to dig this up without all the material vanishing? Or did you bring some gravel and dirt from elsewhere?”

“That’s my own trick. I’ll show you since we’ll have to dig out more space for you to fit,” 99200 mentally links up with 65536 and freezes, “Uhhh, there’s a see-through pony inside your head that’s warning me not to try to read your mind. What do I do?”

“That’s Princess Luna’s protective spell. I know a bunch of things about Canterlot that no one’s allowed to know and she always keeps this on me and makes it especially dangerous whenever I’m bound to be around high ranks. If you do something it doesn’t like it will warn you again, but since I’ll be watching you it should be okay,” explains 65536 and concentrates on accessing 99200’s open mental link, “Aaand I think we’re all set. Sorry, I don’t do mental stuff much back home so I’m out of practice.”

“It’s okay, the pony just spooked me. Very big, very… uhh… high rank-y,” 99200 takes a deep breath and digs out the first hoofful of solid rock while 65536 examines the method. It looks like 99200’s hoof is pulsing with light instead of just glowing but the hive link information is indescribable to a non-changeling, “This kind of digging isn’t really useful for worky time with all the mess it leaves behind, but it’s great if you want to leave something behind to make a wall and hide behind it. 10k said to not do it in the newly rebuilt tunnels unless It’s a life or death situation, but no one’s supposed to dig there anyway unless they’re writing stuff on the walls,” by now, 99200 has easily widened the alcove space so that the two drones could fit in if they squeezed up, but there’s no reason to make the overnight stay uncomfortable, so it stops, clears out the gravel, and nudges 65536, “You can do the rest.”

65536 digs into the rock. The first couple digs are slow, as if the solid rock was too resistant, but the drone quickly gets into the rhythm and makes the gravel fly like a digging dog. Some of the material still disappears even with this digging process, but the majority remains.

“Eeeeee! This way I’ll be able to dig in the castle gardens and no one will be yelling at me that they’ll have to order more dirt from lower Canterlot!” grinning from ear to ear, 65536 turns their camping spot from the size of a sleeping bag to a comfy burrow within moments, “Whoah, I might have overdone it a bit.”

“That’s okay. We have all the leftovers to fill most of it back up. Now look,” 99200 mixes the remaining dirt and gravel together with goop into chunks which it then sticks together with more goop, “Aaand now we mustn’t forget to leave some air holes,” it clears out some of the goop between the bigger chunks, “I didn’t do it the first time and when I realized I was choking I was too weak to break the wall. How could I have known that I could die if I ran out of something I couldn’t see and that no one told me existed? Thank 99856 for the emergency cocoon. It went poof, exploded the wall, and 10k’s rescue team found me in a few moments even though it was sleepy time.”

“You were lucky,” 65536 nods, “So, do we just climb inside now?”

“Mhm.”

Leading by example, 99200 crawls through the entry hole into the now wider space of the burrow and, once 65536 is inside as well, the two drones trade places so that the survivalist can properly fasten the fake wall. Finally, the duo are as safe as they can be outside of the High Score Cavern, two changeling loaves in a small oven with only a little space between them, each resting their head on their crossed forelegs.

“I must admit I really like camping,” says 65536, “The surface kind, I mean. This is different, though… it reminds me of how much there is to discover down here.”

“Definitely! If only there always wasn’t something trying to eat us while we’re discovering… or melt, explode, choke. Come to think of it, I don’t envy 99856 working with all the boomies.”

“How did you figure out that this exploration was your thing anyway?” asks 65536.

“It wasn’t too long after I hatched, actually. I was fleeing slurpy wrigglers, the big, black ones, and you know how they live in those muddy, wet, caverns where it’s easy to slip? I slipped, so I tried to trigger the emergency cocoon but I kinda fumbled it and it poofed behind me instead of around me so I couldn’t hibernate and harden it into a shell. The wrigglers started eating through and my leg was hurting so instead of running I dug a hole and hid in there-” 99200’s voice grows unsteady and distant as it returns to the vividly traumatic moment.

“We used to do that too in the old days!” 65536 shudders with familiarity.

“I don’t envy you. I’ve never been more scared, but it showed me that it’s possible to survive here if something goes terribly wrong, help is far away, and technology fails.”

Internally, 65536 smiles.

This used to be our daily life with no safety or recourse. 9999, 36658, and 10k will never truly understand how much they did for dronekind, how important heroes they are. All the rest of us small guys can do is chip in… and maybe that’ll be enough.

65536 reaches out and wraps its foreleg around 99200’s back.

“The Nightguard teaches a similar thing,” it pulls 99200 closer so that their sides touch, “The Princess teleports us away to a random place for three days once a month with little to no supplies. We need to know how to start a fire, make the right kind of shelter depending on weather and location, and find food- I just help with that because, you know, love. You’d like it. You know what? I’ll ask the Queen if she would sometimes let you come with us.”

The two drones keep quietly chatting about basic wilderness survival and how it could relate to living underground and potentially making some kind of food from tunnel moss and various remains until-

-the wall of their hideout shatters from the outside and something brutally rips 99200 out. Due to shock and pure reflex left over from old days, 65536 remains motionless and silent, covered in dust.

99200 twists in the air until it blinks the remains of the makeshift wall out of its eyes, finding itself held by one foreleg by a scowling ranked warrior at eye height. Behind him, there are six other high ranks, all measuring the drone with varying degrees of hostility.

“What’s a drone doing here, outside of work shift and hiding?” growls 415 at the head of the group.

“Camping!” replies 99200, saluting with the free foreleg.

“Here and now? Yeah, sure,” 415 effortlessly lets the drone's leg go and, before gravity can pull it to the floor, wraps the claws of his foreleg around its neck, “Did the damn, drone-loving traitor send you to spy on us?”

“What?” 99200 tilts its head as far as the tightening claws let it, “Nope, just camping. I’m here often, so you must have missed me before. Are you here to camp too? I can dig a hole for you too, because this one’s kinda too small for all of you.”

A ranked mare behind 415 whose identity 99200 can’t read out of her link says: “Hive business. You didn’t see anything and you didn’t meet anyone today.”

415 smirks.

“A lonely drone in a dangerous, deep tunnel. There are easier ways of making sure it doesn’t tell anyone anything.”

The words and the tone cut through still hidden 65536’s shock, and a memory seared into its brain of desperately hiding and trying to get some rest in a flimsy cover, surrounded by murderous monstrosities returns with a vengeance. Unlike when it was still just a hive drone, though, this time it evokes a diametrically different reaction.

NEVER AGAIN!

With one swing of its hoof, it digs out the solid rock blocking off its part of the burrow and, teeth gritted, looks straight at 415.

“Can we help you?” it surprises itself with how steady its voice is.

“Shit…” breathes out 415, baring his fangs.

“...if this one disappears we’ll have two alicorns and the Queen on our necks…” whispers another high rank hiding their identity.

“Let’s just wipe them and go,” growls a female infiltrator in the back, and her horn lights up.

“Wait, don’t-” is all 65536 manages to say before a horrifying screech of pure agony comes out of the infiltrator’s throat, “HELP HER!” the drone screams, “USE YOUR MENTAL SHIELD STUFF!”

It can’t sense if the other ranked changelings are doing anything, but it doesn’t matter. Over the next fifteen seconds, the infiltrator’s ear-piercing screech rises until there’s only foaming and groaning left, her eyes boil out of her head, and finally she collapses, leaving behind only blissful silence and absolutely stunned changelings.

“What did you do?!” 415 drops 99200 and leans down to 65536, shaking with fury but clearly unwilling to escalate the situation.

“Nothing, I can’t control it,” explains 65536 desperately, “It’s Princess Luna’s protective spell. It warns you before trying to get into my head and if you don’t stop…” it gestures to the extremely dead changeling, “I didn’t know it did that! The Queen just got knocked out when she triggered it.”

To its surprise, 415 turns his head ot the others and barks:

“Eat the corpse, we’re not wasting whatever love is left there,” then he looks at the two drones again, “You two, I’ll say it only once - this is hive business, so get out of here and don’t come back. You didn’t see anyone here tonight and you’ll never camp here again. Understood?”

“Meep,” is all 99200 can muster, trembling while staring at the high ranks now devouring the infiltrator’s corpse.

“Understood,” replies 65536 instead, “99200, we’re going.”

“Meeeeep…”

“Now!” the guard drone adds sharply, and its marching off finally makes 99200 snap out of it and quickly catch up.

Oops!: 2

“Are you okay, buddy?” asks 65536 after a couple minutes of walking through the tunnels. The direction doesn’t matter as long as it’s away from their encounter with the high ranks.

“...n- no…” whimpers 99200 quietly.

“Is it about the dead high rank? If anyone asks, send them to me and I’ll explain-”

“No, I…” 99200 looks at 65536 with a strangely familiar, helpless and puzzled expression, “Did 415 want to kill me? Why?”

“Ah…” now 65536 identifies it. The faces of newly hatched drones seeing their first summary execution and not understanding that the hive isn’t one entity with a common goal and friendly, cooperating factions, “How much do you know about the old rules?”

“Not much,” admits 99200, audibly shaken, “10k told us some stories about High Score but those were mostly about it becoming friends with rank 1988 and some surface ponies…”

“Then I won’t tell you more. 10k has its reasons to pick what it shares with you newbies. All I’m going to say is that you need to remember that almost all current high ranks, if not all of them, did live under the old rules when drones were… easily replaceable, and it might take more time for them to adapt.”

I’m being extremely generous here.

“Oh…” the diplomatic approach doesn’t seem to put 99200 at ease whatsoever, and the duo walk in silence, still led by 65536.

Eventually, the guard drone gets an idea.

Luna and the guys did their best to keep me active after Mister Sharp died. Pretty sure this is different, but if today’s newbie drones believe that all high ranks are at least their allies, a callous threat like that must have hit deep.

“99200, you said there was a safe ravine nearby that you camped in too, right? Wanna stay there tonight- this sleepy time, I mean? If there are spinner webs, I can show you a neat trick.”

“Okay…” mumbles 99200 but a spark of interest creeps into its voice, “I’ll mark it on the map.”

“Hm, that is pretty close. Lead the way, buddy.”

The two drones take the quickest way two levels up and leave the winding tunnels behind them as the road ahead opens into a ledge of a massive ravine.

99200’s description did NOT do this place justice.

For someone drone-sized, the ledge is more like a road, roughly twice the width of the tunnels rebuilt in the new, safe way. What 65536 notices first, though, is the significant drop in temperature. It looks upwards and listens. 99200 notices and repeats:

“This place should be safe. We’ll find some broken eggs further along the ledge but the spinners are all gone as I said.”

“That’s not it. I can hear the wind and the air is much fresher here,” 65536 shakes its head and points up, “Does this go all the way to the surface? I can’t see any light but it’s night so that doesn’t mean much.”

“I don’t know,” 99200 shakes its head, “If you try to fly up you’ll get tangled by the webs even if they’re not sticky anymore. They’re everywhere.”

“I see,” 65536 grabs a nearby pebble and throws it down into the depths. When that fails to produce any sound, probably because of getting caught on a random web, it checks the hive map, only to find that the area is unmapped. The general shape hints at them likely far from the bottom, though, “How far are we from your local hideout?”

“Almost there,” replies 99200, “It’s behind some old spinner eggs where the ledge widens a bit more.”

In just a couple moments, the drones reach the spot and 99200 starts clearing out a pile of spider eggs, each of the drone’s own size. Its fearlessness emboldens 65536 who reflexively stands guard for a few seconds, and when it hears no movement in response to the crunching and shoving noises it goes on to help, quickly revealing the now familiar gravel-like section of the otherwise rocky wall.

“I really wasn’t expecting it to be so cold here,” comments 65536 again.

“It’ll be much better once we dig out our hole,” says 99200, “Do you want to practice my digging method again?”

“No, I think I’ve got the hang of it and I’ll get enough practice at home. Expand the burrow for the two of us, please, and I’ll fly up to gather some webs.”

“Sure.”

65536 carefully floats up and over the vast emptiness of the ravine, and quickly spots the absolutely gargantuan sheets of webbing crossing the whole area. A careful poke reveals them to be dry and completely devoid of the terrifying sticky coating that used to so often spell doom for unlucky drones.

These must be a lot stronger than I thought to support the weight across such a wide place. If the spiders regularly live here throughout the warmer parts of the year it could be a fantastic place to get renewable resources, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

An idea comes to mind.

“Hey, 99200,” 65536 calls out into the darkness, “Did you notice any moss around?”

“What’s that?” responds the drone’s echoing voice.

“A green plant that grows on rocks. Very soft. Or anything similar.”

“I didn’t look for anything like that around here, but I think there’s something similar on the ledges somewhere. I’m done with the burrow, so I can go look.”

“Please do, and poke my hive link every minute,” 65536 slips into guard habits.

“Sure, why?”

“It’s a security measure. If you don’t poke me in time I’ll know something happened to you and I’ll go look immediately. And if I don’t respond to your poke you should be suspicious that something happened to me.”

“Hey, that’s smart!” 99200’s voice cheers up with the joy of learning something new.

The following couple of minutes are spent in busy silence as 65536 grows a scalpel-like spike out of its hoof and uses it to channel its digging power to cut the webs with precision. Luckily, there’s no one to see this and realize how utterly horrifying the potential consequences of casually and accurately using a power that can effortlessly cut through any magical and physical protection alike could be, and call for immediate military annihilation of the hive before the use becomes widespread. It takes some care and experimentation, but eventually 65536 learns how to cut the enormous web without it dropping and taking the drone down with it, and roughly ten minutes later it returns with the final of several rolls of webbing on its back, and unloads it on the pile of the others.

“99200, how are things on your end? I’m done with gathering,” it calls out into the darkness in the direction from which it can sense the survivalist’s hive link.

“I’ve got a little bit… of something…” replies the explorer, “I’ll bring it over.”

Its hoofsteps return to their camping spot quickly, and 99200 presents several clumps of grey, vaguely plant matter. 65536 experimentally pokes it and shrugs.

“I have no clue if this will work, but it seems kind of wet so it might. Now let’s sit down and watch.”

Both drones do so, and 65536 starts working. First, it produces some goop which it mixes with the weird moss, forming a hoof-sized pot that’s wider on the bottom than on top. Next, it lines the inner wall with the gravel left over from 99200’s digging, forming sort of an inside crust insulating the goop-plant matter from the inside. Step three consists of packing the remaining space with the webbing so tightly that only a narrow hole remains in the center. Finally, a green pulse signals a hoof transformation, although 99200 doesn’t know what changed, and 65536 grinds off some grey dust from the hooves into the hole before another visually indistinguishable. fiery change.

“I’m watching but not really understanding anything,” 99200 tilts its head.

“Almost there, buddy. It’ll all become clear in a moment,” 65536 smacks its hooves together right above the pot so hard that sparks fly out. To 99200’s surprise, the center of the rolled-up mix flashes and starts burning.

“Ah, you made a shiny?!” 99200 immediately leans as close to the top of the pot as it can, “What’s going on? Why is it flashing? What’s the smell? It’s warm! OW, too warm! Bad shiny!” 99200 quickly withdraws its muzzle that it experimentally put directly over the makeshift candle, “Can shiny be bad? Is it bad because I’m a bad drone?”

Oh… I completely forgot. With the exception of the few who happened to get outside the hive, they have no idea what fire is.

“That’s called a fire. It makes heat and light but eats the material you give it.”

“Will it be friendly if I feed it like you did?” 99200 glances sideways at the sheets of webbing.

“It’s not alive, it’s just a… process,” 65536 tries to explain something it, admittedly, doesn’t exactly understand either, “Almost all things can be set on fire, but sometimes it’s really difficult.”

“Oh,” the explorer accepts it without hesitation. Drones are good at accepting stuff that just is, “So it’s a way to make light and heat without using up love?”

“Yup,” 65536 nods, “This winter is so bad that when I arrived the first thing I wanted was a hot bath but then I realized you guys don’t have heat or water here.”

“We do have water,” counters 99200, “There’s a stream in section -qqer-ss-d-77- and 99856 sometimes brings water for its experiments from there. I went there once and the water was super cold even though it wasn’t freezy time. It’s kinda dangerous there too, I think. I heard weird noises from all over the place. Do ponies have warm streams where you live?”

“Mhm,” 65536 nods, “It starts off cold too, but ponies make the water flow to their houses,” it links up tighter with 99200 so that it doesn’t have to explain every basic concept with words, “There they heat it up, mostly using fire, and then they swim in it or wash off all the grime that’s left on them after the day. They can’t just burn most of it away with shapeshifting like we do, but I learned there’s a lot of fine powder left on us after that too, we just don’t notice and trail it everywhere. Canterlot cleaning staff weren’t happy with me until I realized that's what was making a mess everywhere.”

“Having warm water sounds nice,” 99200 lies down on its belly, holding the sides of the ‘candle’ with its hooves, watching the small flame dance, and warming its muzzle up, this time without shoving it straight above the fire and scorching its carapace.

“It’s not the only way to warm up-”

“I know. Hug piles are the best!” 99200 beams at 65536.

“There are other ways, pony ways,” 65536 winks, “There are other things you can cover with that are not drones.”

“Ohhh, like 57999’s armor, right? I tried to trade a lot of stuff for it but it said the Queen told it to keep those hard leg thingies no matter what.”

“Close, but not what I meant,” 65536 rubs its head, “Or maybe you can think of it as armor against cold.”

“I could sure use some of that now,” 99200 nods, “Well, your little fire shiny is making things a lot better, now that I know it burning me doesn’t mean the shiny thinks I’m a bad drone.”

“Heh. Not all shinies come from the great shiny. I’ll teach you how to make fire later, but we still have the cold armor thing,” 65536 grabs more webs from the pile, “That’s where these come in.”

“Do we light them on fire all around us?” 99200 hazards a guess.

“That would work, but we’re going to use those webs for something more lasting,” 65536 shakes its head, “Watch carefully.”

The Nightguard drone grows a hoof spike once again, but this time it simply pokes a set of holes along one side of a web sheet. Then it takes a second sheet and tightly rolls it up into a primitive twine, which it pulls through each of the holes and ties a knot on each end. In the end, nothing is particularly tight due to the strength limitations of the webbing, but 65536 happily shows 99200 the makeshift cloak before modelling it.

“There you go,” 65536 gives it to 99200, “It’s your early present for Hard Swarming.”

“For… me…?” the skinnier explorer takes it and mimics the way 65536 put it on and tightened the neck rope before, “Woooow…”

“I can show you a useful design or two that you can make on the spot-”

“I’ve got nothing to trade for it,” says 99200 quietly, puzzled by the new development.

“You don’t need to, it's Hard Swarming,” 65536 pats the other drone’s head with a smile, “It’s just a present from me, that’s all.”

“Wooooow…”

“The fire’s going out, so I’ll make one more cloak for myself and you can practice sewing for yourself a bit before we go to sleep.”

“Wooow…” 99200’s mouth slowly creeps into an ear-to-ear smile, “I’ll be able to make stuff… out of nothing?”

“You still need raw materials, buddy,” 65536 corrects it.

“...out of nothing…” repeats 99200, its voice distant, “This is the best sleepy time ever…”

65536 shakes its head and gets ready to teach.

Oops!: 3

There’s no physical or mental activity inside the High Score Cavern this late into sleepy time with the exception of 99380 whose body is hanging from two strange “meat hooks” protruding from a wall in a larger alcove in the back, piercing a leg hole in one foreleg each. A couple other drones are hanging there in this peculiar position, all peacefully asleep. Despite that, a part of 99380 is somehow still active in the hive mind, sorting through today’s information and categorizing it into what needs to be written down instead of remembering it, what must stay to be easily accessible, and what knowledge should be remembered by specific drones instead. It’s strange to know everything the other drones know, albeit only temporarily, and 99380 occasionally loses all semblance of who it really is, but it always comes back in time.

Just like now, when the drone senses 99066 enter the HSC.

The scattered pieces of 99380’s mind return to the owner, and the drone opens its eyes, somehow finding itself relocated directly behind the returning quicktrotter.

“Heya, buddy!” it greets 99066 cheerfully but quietly to avoid waking up anyone else. 99066 turns around and gets swallowed by the hive mind, its consciousness being pulled into the pitch black void of the ‘waiting room’ with only a silver circle denoting the floor. To 99380’s surprise, the quicktrotter is carrying a wobbly chunk of green, softly glowing goop on its back that’s slowly shifting like a lava lamp.

“Gasp! How did you do that?” 99066 blinks. The problem isn’t the forced hive mind transition, that just happens when one talks to 99380 and doesn’t freak anyone out anymore with the exception of newbies, “One moment, there’s no one behind me and in the next you’re standing there and I didn’t hear anything.”

“Sorry,” 99380 scratches its head, “It just kinda happens sometimes. If it helps, I’m pretty sure I was hanging on the hooks when I went to sleep. My back was a bit stiff - it’s too cold and I didn’t do any sweeping for skips this breaky time. I should ask 10k for some more carrying shifts, but you speedy guys are too good at all the carrying jobs and there aren’t many left.”

“That’s no problem. Now that we can dig stuff out for 99856’s experiments, we can do some quicktrotting during that. Speaking of stuff for 99856, can we return to the real world?” asks 99066.

The hive mind visualization ends immediately, and both drones return to the HSC where 99066 takes the weird goop off of its back and puts it on the floor where it remains, wobbling.

“What’s that?” asks 99380 quietly, “Some new kind of goop?”

“I think so,” 99066 scratches its head while briefly explaining how it fell into a hole full of green stuff in the first place, “-and I thought it would eat me but it just wobbled around. It didn’t mind me poking it and neither did the big green mass nor the other small ones, so after my wings dried up again I picked one to show it to the veterans with outside experience,” 99066 pauses, “Wait, you’re a veteran with outside experience!”

“Am I?” 99380 ponders it, “Wait, I guess I am. Huh, I never really thought about that,” it looks at the slime slowly moving ahead in a seemingly random direction, “I think you might need a veteran with more inside experience because I don’t have the faintest idea what this might be. Unfortunately, 65536 is camping in the lower tunnels with 99200, 57999 is sleeping in the greenhouse tonight, and 10k… really needs rest. On the subject of-” 99380’s mind wanders again, “-staying outside during sleepy time, should I make a hive mind table where a drone could write they won’t be here so that we don’t worry? You know, 99012 and 99971 were anxious but we didn’t sense any emergency cocoon going off, so they just thought you overdid it with quicktrotting.”

“99380?”

“I’m here. I’m here. Sorry,” the drone shakes its head, “My mind keeps escaping my thinky ball. I tried gooping my ears once but it didn’t help.”

“I know the feeling. I sometimes catch myself just counting steps and not even watching the tunnel while quicktrotting. Are all your thinky parts back here enough to talk about our new green, umm, friend?”

“Yep, yep, most bits are here,” 99380 nods, walks over to the slime which managed to move about a hoof’s length away during their conversation, and pokes it. In response, the slime stops and resumes slowly shifting on the spot, “You said there was a cavern full of those under the black-crunchy deposit and nothing bad happened when you dropped inside, right?”

“Yup,” 99066 nods, “I accidentally dug through the big blob all around it and even then the green stuff didn’t get mad at me.”

“Then I guess it must be a super friend,” 99380 shrugs, “Even digging another drone by accident would earn you a wibble, and in this case it was just a wobble,” it pokes the slime again. It jiggles in response, “We just gotta figure out if it doesn’t eat any of our stuff, but we can wait for 10k with that. Besides, it’s not like it’s too different from us anyway since we’re basically goop with a tougher skin.”

“Huh, I didn’t think of it that way,” 99066 ponders it before shrugging, “Seems legit to me. Should I keep it with me during this sleepy time?”

“Nah, I´ll watch it,” 99380 shakes its head, “You had an accident so you need rest. How are your wings?”

“Stiff and sticky but I can fly a bit.”

“Alrighty. I’ll talk to 10k if it doesn’t know anything that might help. We had a washy time on the ship so maybe 99111 can goop us some bubble bricks later.”

“Thanks, 99380,” 99066 hugs the other drone, “You’re a nice veteran. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, 99066.”

As the quicktrotter leaves for its alcove, 99380 catches up with the slime that started moving again after being poked. It lets its body follow the green blob on autopilot while its mind resumes working.It takes only a moment to make a list with a reminder to all drones to fill it if they intend to spend thesleepy time away from the HSC, link it to 10k and the response team.

Aaand done.

99380 looks around. The slime is now moving across the trail of coal dust the quicktrotters made while supplying 99856, leaving behind a significantly cleaner line and showing just how dusty and dirty the floor really is. The drone catches up again and lowers its head to sniff the slime.

Hmm, the air around it feels a little more outside-y. I kinda like it.

However, as 99380 stands and observes the slime eating coal dust at a glacial pace, it realizes that it’s completely lost regarding what to do about it, if anything.

Okay, body. You follow our weird goop friend while I finish the knowledge sorting, got it?

99380’s body, understandably, doesn’t answer. It just slowly sleepwalks next to the slime.

***

Under the lights of the Ponyville train station, a changeling is sitting on a bench, watching the slowly increasing amount of ponies gathering on the platform despite the late time of day. Their activities are a mystery to Smiley, but quite a number of the newcomers stop by one of several stalls to buy what to her smells like noms. The small crowd parts before Night Hunter carrying a tray on a strap around his neck, containing several paper packs and two cups stuck inside the holes by the tray’s edge, more out of respect for his size than for his visible Nightguard badge. He sits down on the bench next to Smiley and, with forelegs finally free, offers Smiley one of the steaming cups.

“It’s a drink,” Night Hunter gives her an encouraging smile, “65536 likes it to a frankly unhealthy degree. Don’t worry,” he adds when Smiley raises her tablet, “No trade needed. That, or you can think of it as me adding a little extra for that promised story of yours.”

As he’s grown used to, Smiley takes a moment to process the unusual situation, lowers her tablet, and first examines the hole in the tray in which the cup was hanging before gasping.

[us!]

While she doesn’t explain the quick scribble with more words, she takes the cup and hooks it into a hole in her foreleg, presenting it to Night Hunter with a proud smile.

“Heh, this does look like something a changeling would come up with,” Hunter nods, taking a sip from his steaming cup, “Oof, too sweet for me but it sure helps in this cold.”

Smiley follows his example and freezes once she drinks the brown liquid revealed to be hot chocolate, only scrunching her muzzle and repeatedly licking her lips.

“I assumed you would like it since 65536 always brings full boxes of sweets with it whenever it leaves to visit the hive.”

Smiley reacts to Night Hunter’s existence again by quickly moving to write something, almost spilling the chocolate but noticing it in time, and then carefully balancing the slate on her hind legs while writing with her free foreleg:

[hot. squishy. love!]

“I have more for you,” Hunter slides two of the paper packages to the edge of his tray, “It’s just a hayburger and a hot pocket filled with lightly sweetened applesauce. I normally don’t go for junk food but it helps warm up in this weather.”

Smiley ponders the situation. On one hole, there’s this ‘hot chocolate’ thing, on the other, there are two more different, potentially even more delicious noms being presented. This requires some puzzle solving capacity.

Hunter watches as the changeling’s eyes keep darting from the tray to the cup of hot chocolate, and finally to the tablet, before Smiley figures out she can, because of sitting on a bench, use a hole in her hind leg to store the cup while grabbing the nearest paper object from the tray which happens to be the burger. She sniffs it, takes a bite, and Night Hunter facehoofs.

Smiley stops and tilts her head.

[tasty]

“You’re supposed to unwrap it first. The paper isn’t part of the meal,” the bat pony shows Smiley how it’s done. Smiley mimics him but takes a bite from the wrapping again afterwards.

[sure? crunchy. smells nice]

“That’s from the burger,” Hunter rolls his eyes with a smirk, “You know what? Feel free to eat that too, just do it separately. I’m pretty sure I saw 65536 eat drywall and curtains without any repercussions, and it did say something about a drone who enjoyed eating tree bark.”

*NOM!*

Seeing Smiley happily chew on the burger wrap, Hunter just smiles. Granted, all this is more to pass time and make sure 65536’s friends don’t miss their train rather than due to some deep interest in the lore of the duo, but it, in his eyes, is somewhat unusual to see drones away from the hive, especially at a time when 65536 is known to come and spend time with them. Also, there’s one question that needs answering first.

“Why do you look like a zebra, Smiley?”

Undisturbed, Smiley keeps chewing while writing with the goop stick in its foreleg.

[Gem. she. zebra. teach. write.]

A couple things click into place. As an elite member of the Nightguard, Night Hunter is aware of Gem and the circumstances of her stay in Canterlot. He’s also aware of the less generally known fact that Gem isn’t a zebra, but a changeling from some faction which doesn’t exactly like interacting with Queen Chrysalis’ hive. On the other hoof, who else to bridge that gap than a silly little drone? Hay, Gem’s friend Three and 65536 nearly gave Gloom an adorability induced heart attack the first time they were in the same room.

“Ah, a mentor. Like with 65536 and Sharp Biscuit,” Hunter pats Smiley, “Speaking of 65536, let’s get to the main topic. Why are you here and not in the hive, getting presents from 65536?”

Smiley scribbles for a while before showing Hunter a tablet covered entirely in [words].

“Words words words words… it’s a long story?”

Smiley nods. Night Hunter looks at the clock.

“We have a lot of time to kil- to spend before the express arrives… or before we have to go look for your friend and Gloom. But if you don’t want to trade…” he playfully pulls the unwrapped burger on the tray back to himself.

Smiley opens her mouth mid-chew, reaching for the burger but stopping before touching Hunter. He withdraws his foreleg with a smile.

“So, a story?”

*Nod Nod Nod!*

“There you go.”

With the negotiations successfully over and the desired burger released into Smiley’s custody, Hunter prepares for what’s coming.

He doesn’t prepare enough, because the first words that Smiley writes are a full sentence which means she’s clearly quoting someone and it’s seared into her memory:

[No, not again! You’re not worth the cost of keeping alive.]

***

Not even the Ponyville school janitor is on the premises when Gloom arrives at a breakneck gallop, wings spread for stability, with 99999 holding onto her back for dear life, grinning from ear to ear as a drone can. She stops on the playground by the sandbox and lowers her wings, which 99999 takes as a sign it can hop off. By all rights, the drone should be suspicious of a pony carrying it away from Smiley, but this one’s an exception for one simple reason.

“Miss Gloom? You’re the first pony who is just radiating love that’s aimed at me. How do you do that?” it asks, standing in the sand.

“I dun like big schlong lings, but I like you smol ones,” Gloom tries to boop 99999’s nose and misses, “Shoot, wrong snoot.”

“Umm, I only got one, Miss.”

“I’m drunksh,” Gloom explains nothing, “It shucks now, but there’s more of ya to love.”

“Does this drunksh thing mean you see stuff wrong?” 99999 hazards a guess.

“Yup! You’re shmart,” Gloom hugs the drone, “Now letsh see what this playground’sh all about. Yoo can dig here, see?” she digs a hole in the sand.

“REALLY?!” 99999’s face lights up, “The Queen said not to do it unless I’m in danger or I get permission.”

“Yup, this ish what it’s for,” Gloom nods, “I know how 65536 alwaysh says it misses that. Jush don’t do that thing where yoo poof the dug stuff away.”

“Oh… like this?” 99999 just digs a small hole without disintegrating the material, “Weeeeird…”

“Yesh! I can hold yer bag if you wanna.”

“It’s fine. I’m just gonna dig a bit and see if my hooves stop getting twitchy,” 99999 gets going with a spray of sand, leaving behind a groove, “Wheeee!”

“Go you!”

One circle around the sandbox later, 99999 stops in front of Gloom and reports:

“All done! This isn’t bad, but it’s not proper digging,” it looks from side to side, “What else can we play? I don’t have any Scufflestick tinies with me. Can we play the harmonica?”

“We could sch- swing,” Gloom points to a set of swings, “Yoo hop on and I’ll push you.”

Despite having trouble understanding Gloom when she can say the same word three times with a slightly different pronunciation, she uses simple directions coupled with a ton of gesticulation which helps 99999 immensely. The amount of love from Gloom does wonders for 99999’s willingness to cooperate too, and after a quick demonstration it sits down onto the piece of wood held by two chains.

“What’s this for? How does it swing?”

“I’ll show ya. Hold on to the chainsh!”

99999 obediently hooks each chain through a convenient leg hole.

“Ready!”

Gloom pushes.

“Yaaay!” 99999 swings on the swing.

“Higher!” yells Gloom, and pushes with all her drunk strength and lack of inhibitions.

“Whee- wha?”

99999 makes a full circle and, chained to the swing, slams with the full weight of itself and its bag into Gloom from behind, knocking her to the ground.

“Oh no!” it unhooks itself when the movement stops and rushes over, because the bat pony isn’t moving, “Miss Gloom? Miss Gloom!” it shakes her.

“Wzhplt!” Gloom wakes up mid-snore, raising her head, “I wanna my own 65536… no need for a guy… or preggo…”

“Umm, can’t you just ask the Queen?” 99999 tilts its head, relieved that Gloom seems no worse off than before the impact, “I think someone did just that and that’s why I was sent away from the hive.”

“Really?” Gloom shoots up and covers her mouth as her stomach revolves, “Urgh… ‘s not good…”

“Are you okay?”

“I… ugh… I think I over… eshti… mated ‘self,” she mutters, “Gonna need… Hunty…” she tries to stand up and her legs buckle under her, “S’rry. Can’t play… ‘nymore.”

“Alrighty. Thanks for the funny ride here, Miss Gloom,” 99999 examines her, “Hunty must mean Mister Night Hunter. If not, Smiley will know what to do. Do you want me to take you to the train station, Miss Gloom? As a trade for you carrying me to do some digging.”

“Mrgrgrlgrl…”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Oops!: 4

The hot chocolate is gone, and so are the hot pocket, the burger, and both wrappers. The tray has been returned, and Smiley’s story keeps going. Night Hunter finds himself gritting his teeth as he glares at one tablet which Smiley slowly fills with words over and over and over, piecing together fragmented threads of a story over the course of an hour. Finally, he just can’t take it and puts his hoof on Smiley’s head, rubbing her behind the ear.

“I’ve read enough, Smiley,” he pulls the small mare close without regard for protocol, and she wiggles tighter against his side, “It’s not your fault.”

[but-]

“Not. Your. Fault,” Hunter gently pushes Smiley’s writing hooves down, “Nothing you wrote was something you should regret.”

[not good enough]

“Smiley, if you, or anypony else for that matter, blames you not for screwing up but for not being far better than your equals… that pony, or a changeling, isn’t worth listening to.”

[Failed best number. Failed 36658. Failed again. 10000 knows]

“Everypony makes mistakes. Anypony who tries to make you pay for somepony else’s isn’t your friend.”

[10000 friend]

Night Hunter sighs. Words won’t help here so he just hugs Smiley and sits there until she lets the tablet hang on her neck, her writing goop stick glued to it. They sit like that until they hear the distant tolling of a bell announcing 9 o’clock in the evening, the time when they were supposed to meet up with Gloom and 99999.

“Moon damn it, Gloom. Where are you?” Hunter curses quietly, “I’m really not in the mood right now.”

Thankfully, all roads of Ponyville leading to the train station are wide open, and his eyes used to the night spot two slowly approaching blue dots in the distance. He waits and squints until 99999 comes into view, Gloom sitting on its back while hugging the backpack, swaying softly from side to side. Eventually, the reason how she’s managing to remain atop the drone is revealed to be a layer of goop presumably gluing her legs and backside to 99999’s back. Despite the size difference, the drone’s breathing is quicker but otherwise it doesn’t look bothered by Gloom’s weight.

Thank stars.

“Heya, Smiley! Hello again, Mister Night Hunter!” 99999 greets the duo cheerfully, “I was worried you wouldn’t be here because I thought it might be Miss Gloom’s sleepy time already.”

“... much chair wobbles, Hunty…” mumbles Gloom.

“What the buck, Gloom?” Hunter breathes out quietly, “I’ve never seen you this messed up.”

“...I wanna huggy chair too… ‘s not fair only Luna gets one…”

“99999, can we somehow unglue her from you?”

“Yup, easy. We’re used to carrying big stuff,” replies the drone and the goop turns into water as the drone absorbs the love out of it, which leaves Gloom free to slide off onto Hunter’s lowered barrel.

“Thanks. Sorry you had to take care of her.”

“It’s okay. She was very nice and refilled me,” 99999 hops onto the bench next to Smiley, “Let’s share.”

The two huddle together while Hunter stabilizes Gloom on his back where she quickly falls into some level of unconsciousness.

“I’d like to stay with you two until the train arrives, but I have to get her away from here before she throws up all over the platform.”

[Got ticket]

“Good. Don’t forget - it’s an express to Las Pegasus. You still have to get a ticket to Northern San Palomino from there,” Night Hunter reminds them of the route and Smiley nods, “And Smiley? If things don’t work out… feel free to come to Canterlot. 65536 will be happy to see you and we’ll always find a place for you.”

Smiley smiles, scribbles, and shows her reply:

[Must earn home]

“You will, just maybe not the one you want right now. You are stronger than you think,” Hunter starts walking away, “Goodbye and good luck, you two.”

“Byyye, Mister Night Hunter,” calls out 99999 and Smiley waves.

Gloom’s unfurled wing hanging from Hunter’s side wobbles at them too.

***

“Nnnngh…” 10k grits its teeth so hard that even the comparatively tiny drone fangs painfully grind against the inside of its mouth, “You can do it… you’re still… a drone…”

Inside the High Score Cavern, the drone leader is once again not feeling like a drone at all as it slowly creeps forward with a big stone slab on its back, panting heavily and groaning in pain. While the slab would at least inconvenience a pony of Big Mac’s size, by all rights, 10k should still be able to carry it on its back from one end of the HSC to the other without significant problems. Granted, even the visible part of 10k’s vast injuries easily explains all problems the drone might have with moving something of easily ten times its weight, and the drone itself should know best how deep the real physical wounds go.

“This is… you. This is what… you’re for. Carrying… and digging…”

Yet, it keeps trying. Despite pieces of its fractured carapace flaking off as they grind against each other, despite green slime oozing through the cracks at every movement, despite blinding pain that any drone could feel through their links just by being close enough to 10k, it keeps trying to be who it’s supposed to be.

And failing.

10k yelps as its foreleg buckles with a sickening crack when it raises the other to take another step, thankfully in such a way that the slab slides directly sideways on the floor instead of crushing any part of the drone further.

“What the holes are you doing?” asks a voice that’s more annoyed than worried despite coming from another drone. Why that’s the case is easily explained by the drone’s hive link revealing rank 99000, although 10k’s mind is too occupied by agony to analyze the tone anyway. The drone’s current situation is making Chrysalis’ mental influence blocking any suspicion regarding her behavior unnecessary. Still, once ‘99000’ approaches 10k, the question repeats in the form of, “What happened?”

“Just… trying to… carry the big stone… around,” without the crushing burden,10k’s breath is stabilizing, “Like any other drone can.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be the drone thinker exactly because you’re physically limited right now?” asks 99000 before adding, “And, from what I’ve heard so far, you’re doing a good job.”

“That hurt my head last worky time, digging and carrying hurts my everything else,” sighs 10k, “But all the scheduling is ready for 65536’s stay here.”

“Isn’t it supposed to stay here for at least a week?”

“Yes, but the new way of mining organization needs me to plan far more ahead then just for the next worky time,” with a groan, 10k pushes itself up from the small pool of ooze and chitin chunks, “I just wish my head didn’t resist as much as the rest of me when I try to be a drone.”

99000, hesitantly, pats 10k’s head, coupling it with a love refill and mentally preventing 10k from questioning what’s happening. All the drone leader’s allowed to think is that it feels a little better and significantly recharged without worrying how that came to be. To Chrysalis, the mind control resistance is less an unbreakable fortress and more a single impassable wall - still an obstacle but one that she can work around.

“You’ll get used to the mental strain eventually and the headaches will stop,” 99000 changes the subject when it notices something bright green from the corner of its eye, “Is that another of 99856’s resin experiments?” it shoots a suspicious look towards the slime.

10k shakes its legs one by one to feel if there are any serious problems caused by its carrying attempt. Just dull pain all over and the now persistent, sharper cutting-grinding along its carapace’s cracks, so nothing new.

“It’s not,” 10k shuffles over to the slime that’s slowly but steadily moving through the HSC and leaving behind random lines of cleaner stone floor, “99066 fell into a cavern full of these under the black-crunchy deposit we’ve started mining for 99856’s experiments, and brought one here.”

“Huh, something that’s not trying to eat changelings on sight?” 99000 pokes the slime blob which jiggles, “I guess it was bound to happen one day.”

“I don’t think it has eyes, so maybe that’s it,” 10k shrugs, and looks closer at the floor, “It seems to eat dust, especially the black-crunchy. Note to 99856 - do not leave doors open or the goop friend might eat its stuff.”

The mention of the chemist reminds Chrysalis of her original reason to visit this place.

“I’ll do it,” says 99000, “I was on the way to see it at work anyway.”

“Nice,” 10k finally conjures a small smile, “It’ll love to know there’s another drone interested in its experiments.”

“That I certainly am,” 99000 smirks.

“Great!” 10k doesn’t register the sinister tone of the other ‘drone’ even without any mental block, “I’ll leave you to it. There’s something I… think I should talk about with 99.”

“She’s training with 387, but they should be finishing by now, and then she’s supposed to guard the throne room again,” says 99000 and immediately blocks 10k’s question regarding how a common drone would know that. This leaves 10k with only one way to proceed, which is:

“Thanks,” it smiles and carefully walks off.

Before 99000 heads to 99856’s laboratory, it stops by the slime which is moving at a glacial pace in a direction that even to Chrysalis trying to analyze its patterns and assess its threat feels entirely random. Her changeling instinct that allows her to control and drain love from non-equines and creatures of limited intelligence fails her as well, so all that’s left to think is that it’s just some kind of… blob on the level of intelligence of an insect, if even that. With that resolved to her satisfaction, Chrysalis finally moves onto more pressing matters.

***

By the time 10k reaches the throne room at its slow pace, it’s breaky time.

“Hi, 99!” 10k greets the visibly exhausted mare whose carapace is dented and cracked in places, oozing the same brown-tinted, green mess as the drone’s persistent wounds, “Wow, you don’t look good. Should I send someone to fetch 57999?”

“Combat training against 387 does that,” 99 shakes her head and smiles, showing a gap in her upper row of teeth explaining her slight lisp, “I’ve got nothing planned for the rest of the day so I’m letting it heal naturally.”

10k pauses and scrunches its nose in thought.

“Is your missing tooth somewhere or did you eat it?”

“What?” 99 tilts her head in puzzlement, “Why do you ask?”

“I’m just wondering if any drone ever had a high rank’s tooth for trading.”

“If you want it, stop by cave -a-t-11,” 99 shrugs, adding with a chuckle, “You’re free to keep all the blood you can mop up too. You don’t need to ask 387 for permission, because I’m pretty sure all the abstract art on the floor is from me.”

“Hey, that’s not a bad idea!” says 10k, making 99 sigh.

“That wasn’t a real suggest- nevermind,” she shakes her head, “What brings you here? Unless it’s poor, bruised me, I’ve got bad news.”

“Actually, it is you,” 10k looks upwards, directly into 99’s smashed face.

“Huh,” she finds herself at a loss for words, “Well, here I am.”

10k taps its hoof softly against the floor, wondering how to begin.

“I… don’t know what I am,” it dives head on into the problem, “I’m supposed to be a drone, but I can’t dig anything without passing out in pain. I can barely carry a third of what any normal drone can before my carapace and the green stuff underneath starts falling off. The others say that I should be a planner and thinker now that I can’t be a proper drone, but I did that and my head just hurt, I could barely see, and in the end I passed out too. The voice said I should talk to you for some reason.”

It has no idea why, after a moment of surprise, 99 frowns, much less why her frown turns into a scowl. For the first time in its life, though, 10k isn’t terrified in such a situation, and just waits. 99 leans down, her nose almost touching 10k’s, looking for signs of anything other than genuine curiosity.

“What voice told you to talk to me?” she asks carefully.

“Uhh, the voice,” replies 10k, “It never talked to you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she puts a hoof on the drone’s shoulder and says firmly, “Tell me everything you know about this voice.”

“It’s just a voice. It knows a lot about us drones and it helps us when we have important questions. That’s all.”

“Can all drones hear it?”

“I know 99380 talks to it a lot, and I think 99111 sometimes does too,” 10k rubs its chin, “I didn’t ask around, really.”

“10k, I need to look into your head. Don’t resist.”

“Sure,” the drone shrugs. Other than 99’s inexplicable worry, there’s nothing special about the situation.

99 delves deep into 10k’s memories, guided by the drone’s mind reacting to her mention of ‘the voice’. She hears it mention her in response to 10k’s identity worries, she hears it calm the drone down during its altercation with Smiley after 47989’s death, she hears a couple other innocent conversations on the top of the drone’s mind before she overhears 10k’s dialogue with the voice when it thought it was dying on the island.

It’s unlikely that 156 or 387 –the only ones she talked to about her ‘identity crisis’ to get the insight of a warrior and an infiltrator– are putting on some elaborate prank. Whom could they have told, though? Chrysalis is the obvious-

“99, I only believed you would be the right one to ease 10k’s mind because you worry about a similar thing,” a voice- the voice rings through 99’s link with no identifiable source.

“Who. The. Holes?” 99 immediately fires up her mental skills to the maximum to seek the source of the voice and finds… nothing.

Alright, calm down, 99. If you can’t read or even find their signature, there’s a limit to how far a changeling can transmit. Who’s in the vicinity?

“Please, calm down,” says the voice, “You won’t find anything.”

YOU’RE READING MY MIND?!

“In a manner of speaking yes,” says the voice, “but also no. It’s complicated. Can you stop freaking 10k out at least?”

99 looks down at the drone who, while still waiting, has shuffled a little bit away in response to her shifting expression and strange hive link activity.

“I’m sorry, 10k,” she says, “Your ‘voice’ started talking to me.”

“Oooh, I get it. It spooked me the first time too,” 10k calms down, “It’s weird how it can talk to you even when you just think about something.”

“That’s a definite yes on the weird. You wouldn’t know it but the Queen had to purge the hive mind of malevolent entities pretty much responsible for the shitty state of the hive pre-invasion once already. Whatever this voice is, it’s critical that the Queen knows about it.”

“But the voice is helpful,” counters 10k.

“10k, listen to me-”

Before she can finish the sentence, 99 gets sucked into the hive mind and time stops. She finds herself standing in the blackness, looking at a changeling - specifically what she would instinctively call ‘default drone template 001’, a completely unremarkable, standard drone.

“I pulled us here because I knew what you wanted to say,” says the drone.

“Oh, you’re trying to stop me?” 99’s primes her mental defenses, although she can’t help but feel outmatched. However, awareness and confidence are the core of protecting oneself from undue influence and can supplant some technical skill, at least according to every mental specialist she’s been learning from.

“Obviously, but I’m not trying to force you,” the fake drone sighs, “Your reaction is one of the reasons I haven’t talked to any ranked changeling directly yet.”

“What are you?”

“I just am. That’s the only answer I’ve got.”

“Name. Rank. Species. Anything.”

“I have none of those. 10k thinks I’m the drones’ semi-religious idea of High Score, or some surviving consciousness of dead drones, neither of which is correct. I exist to help them, that’s all. If you let me, I might learn enough to help you as well. Before you ask just like 10k did, my first moment of awareness happened inside a hotel room in the presence of 36658, on the island where it sacrificed itself to save 10k.”

“And what do you want from me?” she narrows her eyes in suspicion, “I WILL tell the Queen about this.”

“I understand that,” the default drone changes into ‘default ungendered warrior template 001’, followed by a default infiltrator when 99 lowers herself into a combat stance, and finally returns back to the drone form, “However, the drones need the most help and the fact that they are trusting to almost dangerous degree makes it easy to offer a guiding advice when needed. You sowing distrust can only hurt them and, possibly, in the long run even you ‘high ranks’. While I can’t stop you from telling 10k what you want, I just wanted to present my case.”

Without any input from 99, the hive mind waiting room vanishes and she finds herself once again with her mouth still open mid-sentence.

“-I will have to tell the Queen and possibly the others about whatever this ‘voice’ is. Just so you know that you guys might receive some questions soon.”

To her surprise, 10k just tilts its head.

“Has it never talked to any of them before either?”

“You know what? Can we talk about your problem later? I think the sooner I tell someone about the voice, the sooner we can get to it. Just stay here, okay?” she puts a hoof under 10k’s chin and makes it look up at her.

The ONE TIME I really need them, no one’s around. I can’t just sit here and possibly let the knowledge of an unknown hive mind entity evaporate from my head.

“I won’t do that,” says the voice.

Shut up, I don’t trust you!

99 only hears a quiet sigh in response.

“Sure,” 10k shrugs.

“Good, now where could everyone be-?”

Her ears twitch.

Moments later, so do 10k’s.

99’s hive link, reflexively resisting any outside influence since the voice’s intrusion, relaxes, and lets in a wave of other hive links coming from the direction of the tunnels. Just like with hearing, 10k catches on as well while mouthing: “What?”

She can sense almost every single drone heading towards the surface, the crowd led by 99111.

WHY IS EVERYTHING SUDDENLY HAPPENING AT ONCE AND WHERE IS EVERYONE WHO MIGHT KNOW WHAT TO DO?!

Wait… do I smell smoke?!

Oops!: 5

“Omigosh you came again, you came again!” 99856 squees happily as 99000 opens the door to its laboratory and almost drops what looks like a small, deflated ball of green sludge, “Whoah, not here. Deeefinitely don’t drop this here,” with a brief expression of horror, it catches what 99000 can only presume is yet another semi-accidental doomsday device.

Something’s off about its smile, but I can’t place it.

As the chemist puts the ‘product’ onto a workbench, 99000 can’t help asking:

“Why were you so happy to see me?”

“No one ever comes here more than once!” 99856 rushes over and hugs wincing 99000, “There’s no digging involved, no carrying unless you’re bringing stuff I can excrement with- experiment with, and most of the stuff I do is kinda complicated but also super boring. Do you know how many hoofsies of br- iron dust I gotta separate from the bigger chunks to make one of those?” it lets go, points to whatever the ‘do not drop!’ thing it almost dropped is, and counts for a brief moment before announcing with a smile, “Three hoofsies and five parts!” it presents the bottom of its empty hoof into which lines seem to have been scratched, splitting the concave of the hoof into equal sections, “That takes a chunk of worky time, and it’s much worse when you need to mix different dusts.”

99000 examines the hoof.

“I saw a stone bowl around here last time. Why don’t you make one or more like that, split them like you did with the hoof, and have both hooves free for work?”

99856’s jaw drops.

“YOU’RETHEBEST!” it yells into 99000’s face and squeezes the other drone again, even tighter.

“Of course I am,” groans 99000 under the pressure, “What’s that new thing you’ve probably almost killed us both with when I entered?”

99856 lets go and darts back to the bench containing a green, flappy blob with excitement.

“It’s a squirty! I can show ya later if you want, but right now I’m testing the new black-crunchy stuff in the other room, now that I’ve figured out how to stop it from going boom immediately,” it blows air through a small hole into the goop pile until it inflates into a dome, upon which it closes the hole with one last spit of goop, “Oookay, now we let it sit for a bit and it’ll be ready.”

“How does it work?”

“Heee,” 99856 beams, “Remember the angry fizzies you saw last time? While I was cleaning up after you left, I had an idea - if the door could hold those in without any trouble, could I use softer goop with iron dust to make a cleaning ball? Like, use a chunk of 99111’s bubble brick, encase it in normal goop, cover that in a layer of mix 442, and finally contain all that in iron dust goop. The normal goop melts, the bubbly and 442 mix into fizzes, but doesn’t get out because of the outer shell. Then, you know, just throw it into a room with enough strength for the shell to break, and the fizzies would clean up anything that’s not rock or goop and iron mix.”

That’s an acid grenade and, judging by last time, throwing an amount that’s inside the thing on that workbench into a house would purge it of all life. Plus, a brief exposure made your sinuses bleed. For hive’s sake, I should have used drones while I was trying to take over Equestria. Or maybe not, I needed the ponies alive.

“But THEN I thought,” 99856 continues chipperly, beyond happy that it has someone to talk to about its work,“The fizzies are kinda dangerous if you’re not careful-”

Hive mind, we have a genius here.

“-so what if we could do two things at once? We could even try to toss it into a cavern full of gribblers, but then I thought - who has time to aim when there are stompy crunchers on your tail, right? They are strong and big, but not really smart. So, if you knew they were around, you could just prepare the cleaning balls in a tunnel ahead of time, lure the stompy crunchers, and run. And FINALLY I thought - balls aren’t good for running over, what if I made a flatter shape so that it’s easier to stomp on? Tadaa!” it victoriously points at the green dome slowly filling up, “On top of that, where they squirt from is based on where something breaks the outer shell. I tried it in the other room with rocks.”

If ANYTHING goes wrong with that, the drone won’t even make it to the door before being… cleaned up.

“Mines. You’re making pressurized, directional, corrosive mines,” 99000 breathes out.

“They’re only mine right now. I’m gonna give them to the guys when they find a cave with big gribblers, and then they’ll be everyone’s!”

99000 looks at 99856 with utter incredulity, and something finally clicks inside its head in regard to 99856’s muzzle - the chitin is porous like its hooves.

“For my own sanity, I need to recap this, and I’ll say it very slowly,” says the fake drone, “You blow air… with your mouth… into a soft shell full of extremely corrosive acid… while it’s in a state where it can burst if you blow just a bit too hard… and spray your face point blank.”

99856’s smile fades a little.

“Ehhh… when you say it like that… I gots my goggles?” it pauses, “Which I’m using only for tests, not for making these. Umm, that’s not good, is it?”

“Your lips are melting,” 99000 facehoofs, “Make a tube and blow the air through it, you suicidally oblivious, walking and currently melting war crime!”

Chrysalis immediately wipes the insult from 99856’s mind but leaves the rest in.

“Huh,” the chemist carefully rubs its muzzle, “Oh goop. Uhhh, thanks for the tube idea. I’ll ask 99111 if it knows how to make a hollow goop stick. Do you want a cleaning squirty for the advice?”

“Holes in a leg, no!” 99000’s eye twitches, “How about you give the whole ‘cleaning’ idea a rest until you figure out how to craft things without melting yourself either slowly or at once?”

99856 nods.

“I think that’s a great idea. I think I should focus on black-crunchy-”

“Coal,” 99000 corrects it.

“-on coal instead. Seriously, you’re really good with pony words!”

“Good,” 99000 nods, “It would be a shame if something bad happened to you.”

I think I’m done with this drone. It might be beyond dangerous but there really isn’t any intent to harm anyone in it. Well, maybe to harm some tunnel monsters. If they figure out a way to hunt the damn rock worms for sport I’ll be sure to join in. Final assignment for 99 regarding 99856 - observe and potentially guide. If we ever need to make it disappear, it will be easy to cause an accident that even 387 won’t suspect as foul play.

“Awww, thanks for worrying,” 99856 smiles again.

With a simple nod, Chrysalis makes any curiosity regarding 99000 vanish from 99856’s head and just leaves. There are two more avenues of drone development she needs to check, and both are bound to be more difficult to observe unnoticed than the lonely chemist. However, examining the tinkerer will be significantly easier to get away with right now.

“I’ll go talk to 99111 about that tube for you,” she says and leaves.

99380 has to be the last one to approach. The anomalous mental ability it presented last time when it just ignored her cover could make assessing it difficult, so it’s critical she finds the drone on its own, and right now it’s doing something several levels lower with that peculiar trio of drones who are always quickly done with the relocation of reserve broods between hatcheries and storage caverns.

99000 sighs.

Hopefully, 99111 is trying to make ONLY the flamethrower.

***

99000 stands by the door of 99111’s workshop, watching the tinkerer drone absorbed in its work with a mix of pride and shock.

The workshop itself is extremely similar to 99856’s laboratory up to the number of workbenches, differing only in their placement and contents. From what Chrysalis can see, the stone tablets on the shelves in the back are thinner, stating that 99111 wasn’t satisfied with what has to be a standard drone template and patiently customized them afterwards. The subject is similar, though, from one of the tablets spread out over a bench nearby - lists of changeling resin’s chemical reactions with various other materials. In place of 99856’s material and resin samples there are what look like molds for shapes which don’t immediately hint at what they’re for, instead they all contain hive mind reference symbols.

With one workbench occupied by the currently required slates and molds, one by working 99111, it leaves the final one entirely covered by mechanical parts, with its edges secured by a resin border so that nothing can accidentally fall off and roll somewhere. The parts are all linked to one hive mind reference, but Chrysalis hazards a guess first based on a brass loudspeaker, the only part not on the bench but under it.

A disassembled gramophone.

Following the hive mind reference marks visible on the ethereal mental overlay of the real world leads to a catalogued 3d model of the gramophone inside the drone section of the hive mind. While she’s not allowed to edit the model, at least not without force, she can view it and read that it was created, piece by piece, by 99111 itself. Withdrawing, she checks the markings related to what 99111 is working on right now and receives the information that it’s a simple spring. However, said information is immediately followed by more references linking back to the gramophone, specifically to the disassembled handle and the manual wind-up mechanism. If there’s anything to take from this first impression, or at least from an impression two years after seeing the drone personally last time, it’s that 99111 is organized and efficient on a completely different level than any other drone she’s met so far with the exception of 10k. None of this is what shocked Chrysalis when she entered the workshop disguised as 99000 and spared a second to analyze the surroundings, though. Impressed, yes, but not shocked. No, that honor belongs to 99111 itself.

As the drone works, it’s busy mixing resin with some other substance and filling a mold with the result. It proves unsatisfactory, and 99111’s foreleg hoof unfurls into a set of claws without any transformation, and one of the claws digs a precise shape into the stone mold like a scalpel.

That’s an adaptation used by warriors when they don’t want to waste love on shapeshifting or when they can’t transform in fear of triggering a detection mechanism, currently being wielded by a DRONE. And it can channel their bullshit cheating digging power through it.

Even that, however, Chrysalis could stomach. After all, 10k has been optimizing carapace designs as both work and a hobby now that it can’t physically do drone work, and the composite claw-hooves isn’t a particularly complex one.

All that, however, is happening under a flashlight made of glowing resin, glowgoop in dronish, encased in an opaque resin tube, and…

…moved around by a fifth, clawed limb sprouting from 99111’s back according to what angle the drone needs to see from. Chrysalis could have expected some primitive chitinous hook for such a task or a cleverly placed protrusion, not a fully functional limb. From the drone’s low love expenditure, it also looks like its body is used to having it and that it’s not a temporary, love-burning transformation.

To be completely accurate, none of what she’s seeing would even remotely impress her if presented by an infiltrator, even one of a low rank. A drone, however?

“Great. Extra legs to throw all the extra acid grenades they have now,” 99000 mutters under its breath, which finally makes 99111 notice its visitor.

“Hello,” says 99111 in a friendly, warm tone, “Do you need anything, 99000?”

“I’m just looking around,” replies 99000, “And 99856 told me to ask if you could make it a tube of about these dimensions,” it transmits an image through 99111’s hive link.

“Hmm,” 99111 ponders it before shrugging, “Sure. I’m going to need more iron ore dust anyway because this just isn’t working,” it shoots a sideways glance to its workbench.

“What are you doing anyway?” asks 99000.

“I’m trying to fix the broken music box. I’m pretty sure I know what’s wrong with it, I’m just not mixing the right material to create the spring,” 99111 picks up the mold, digs a greenish-brown spiral out of it, presses it from both sides with its forelegs, frowns, and puts it into the corner, “Still too soft, I think. There must be more to getting the right properties of an alloy than just the amounts of mixed materials.”

“What do you need a spring for anyway?”

“We have no way of recharging the energy crystals that power the music box. Those three purple, angular shinies,” its back arm points to the bench with all the parts, “When those are out of power, it’s possible to make the music box work for a while using a spring mechanism. We used it only for a couple breaky times before it broke, though, and I’ve been trying to fix it since then. I’ve got a couple ideas on how to use springs in other ways too.”

“Is one of those applications a bomb launcher?” 99000 rolls its eyes.

“Hmmm,” 99111 rubs its chin, “That could work, I think. If we put a boomy into a big tube with a spring in it. It would need a way to wind the spring up-” it shakes its head, “Feels pointless to me. Unless we figure out how to customize springs, just throwing a melty seems better. No, we need to be able to fix the pony technology we have first. If we manage to do that, it’ll be the first step to eventually fixing the smart box. That’s still ages away, though, I can’t even disassemble it.”

99000 sighs.

“I understand. 99856 is the weapons guy.”

It sucks that we haven't managed to copy the entire contents of the Silversmith device before it stopped working. Something must have gone wrong, because the robot said we had at least one more year. I would assume it lied to us, but other than this it stuck to its every word. The good part is that, judging by the amount of records there were supposed to be inside the device, we got about three quarters of them. It’ll still take years, maybe decades, for the drones to write everything down, but the important thing is that all we managed to read is inside the hive mind and being slowly moved onto the tunnel walls to avoid unnecessary love drain.

“I’m just trying to figure out how things work and how we can use them to improve life down here, and I’m pretty sure 99856 is doing the same,” 99111 shrugs, “If you want weapons, though, we’ll need small springs for triggers if we want one that’ll be useful more than once. That’s what keeps breaking whenever the rescue team uses the acid spitter.”

“What about the pony flamethrower?” asks 99000, not letting 99111 wonder how a newbie would know about it.

“I’m wondering if it’s not a dead end idea,” admits 99111 with a sigh, “The tech is interesting, but in reality it doesn’t do much more than the acid foam 99856 discovered recently, and the device itself is too big for drones to carry while working. My original idea was that we could clear up dangerous caverns and secure a lot of sections we have to avoid now without the need to call for a high rank. We are so unbelievably limited by that,” it ends wistfully.

Chrysalis scans the tinkerer’s mind when the mentioned topic lets her dig into the deeper parts of the drone’s mind, easily revealing that weapon usage against high ranks never crossed its mind nor did anyone talk with 99111 about it. With that scan finished, all that’s left is drawing the drone’s mind to the final interesting topic so that Chrysalis doesn’t need to waste energy or risk overloading the drone by too forceful of an access. Not that she would feel particularly bad, but 99111 is easily in the top ten of valuable drones, and crippling it or losing it outright would be entirely wasteful.

“You’re using some transformations I haven’t seen before,” 99000 points to 99111’s forelegs and then to the arm on its back.

“My grabbers!” for the first time, 99111 smiles in the classic drone ear-to-ear way. Thanks to the easy mind reading, Chrysalis knows the answer immediately but lets 99111 say it out loud because it’s something the drone is visibly proud to share. She guessed it almost correctly even before talking to the drone anyway, “10k learned how to make the grabby hooves from 387, and the extra grabber on my back was a complete accident based on 10k trying to heal its carapace. Just like it tried to do, I grew it bit by bit by transforming over the course of many worky times and slowly getting used to it when it was still just a wriggler. While it worked for me, it didn’t for 10k, but it keeps trying,” 99111 finishes the explanation with, “I hope my work benefits other drones at least a fraction as much as its does.”

“I don’t doubt it, although you might be right about the dead end research,” 99000 gives the workshop one more look, “What would surface dwellers know about fighting off underground threats? If 99856 has better results in the offensive department, you can focus on more… social inventions,” it nods to the gramophone.

“That’s what I’m trying to do. I’m glad there’s someone who understands it,” 99111 walks over and its extra arm pats 99000 on the head, “However, it’s hard to focus on music when we still lose on average one drone every thirteen worky times. Perhaps in the future.”

Just like with 99856, Chrysalis makes a final assessment.

Note for 99 - occasionally visit 99111. Suggest ideas for non-military mechanisms from ponies. Possibly send out infiltrators for specific technical knowledge gathering missions. Maybe send 99111 out accompanied, just like we did with 20100?

Seeing 99000’s brief pause, 99111 misunderstands it entirely and adds:

“Don’t worry. You seem really smart and, now that the Queen paused digging operations around her project, the most dangerous area we’ve been working on is closed. If you don’t get overconfident, you’ll make it through your first couple worky times just fine.”

Despite having an easy way to extract herself from the situation, Chrysalis finds herself unsure how to proceed. So far, everything seems innocent, but there are tiny issues she can’t pinpoint gnawing at her. The Queen is, whether she wants it or not, always connected to the whole hive, and something feels off. Perhaps this might be a good time and place to relax for a moment?

“Certainly,” 99000 nods, “Hey, mind if I watch you work in silence for a while?”

“Huh? I definitely don’t,” 99111 blinks, “It’ll be great to eventually have another drone to share ideas with. So far, no one’s really that interested in the clickers and tickers outside of me repairing pony stuff.”

“Good,” 99000 sits down in the back, “Work as if I’m not here.”

Author's Note

Hmmm, an immediate downvote a minute after publishing a new chapter and appearing in the featured box.
Methinks some authors are pathetic and blindly downvote other featured stories so that theirs shows up in the box for longer/more often.
Or maybe just reading the first few words of the first chapter here made someone really annoyed somehow.

Playing games: 1

With the changeling throne being vastly oversized for someone like Chrysalis, even the presence of roughly twenty drones doesn’t prevent her from getting a good night’s sleep. Strangely enough, despite them being terraced all over her, it could easily be considered the best sleep in years, which makes her curious the instant she wakes up without showing a single mark of being up yet. Physical status - vital and strong. Mental status - ready and aware. Energy level - significantly higher than last night?

This makes her open her eyes and see a strange mix of dim colors that can’t be anything other than drones sprawled all over her face, somehow entangled in a way that lets her count five colors in total. However, there shouldn’t be any colors. There should only be grey and black drones, at best with bright teal eyes, unless some length of the tangled limbs in front of her face belongs to 387, unwisely within biting range. Attempting to see the situation from a different angle, she checks the nearby hive links, only to sense that none of the drones are awake yet, so she just squints.

Hmmm… It’s been a while since I’ve seen this.

The drones directly surrounding her are partially transformed into that revolting glitterbug form and are somehow softly radiating love. However, a brief status check on them reveals that they’re not losing love, quite the opposite, in fact. So far, only Three has been able to remain fully in this form, mimicking the effect of the Crystal Heart, but that strange drone’s physiology is nowhere close to that of hive drones anymore.

Having a way for drones to somehow feed themselves or at least lower their love consumption would be the most critical development for the hive in centuries.

Chrysalis checks the drones’ vitals, mental states, what their brains are currently chewing through, as well as their recent history, and comes up with nothing. The only truly common denominator is that they’re all here, on the throne, peacefully sleeping while piled on her. They’re not fully transformed, some are producing more love than others without any correlation to the degree of their transformation, but all of them are doing it, be they on the throne or piled up under it. Them being grouped up seems to be the critical part, but from digging deeper into their heads, one by one, she concludes that this can’t be it because the phenomenon simply doesn’t happen down in their cavern, or not to a discernible degree.

Do I just use it as a one-time gift and leave it be? What an absolute waste, but it seems like I don’t have a choice in the matter. It’s clearly completely unconscious, so openly experimenting with them is unlikely to yield results.

Admitting defeat, Chrysalis lets out an annoyed huff. Glowing teal eyes open in response, blink, and Chrysalis senses a wave of awakening drones. With it, all the partial transformations simply fade without any green fire or seemingly the drones’ knowledge.

“Alright, wake up and stop choking your Queen,” Chrysalis grumbles, sits up, grabs a clump of too slowly waking up drones about to drop from the throne, and shoves them aside to its less crowded part, “And get off of my throne unless you want to fight me for leadership.”

She yawns loudly, taking care to show all the terrifying sharp teeth inside her mouth, which has the desired effect of making all the remaining drones fly off and regroup down on the floor where they start looking around, unsure how to proceed. Moments later, the surface levels of the hive mind start ringing with related questions, making Chrysalis filter those out. She doesn’t need to listen to some variation of “Hey, it’s worky time but we’re not supposed to work right now. Wat do?” on repeat. Instead, she watches as 65536 peels itself off of one of many drone piles scattered around, yawns, rubs its eyes, and finally realizes where it is and what it’s supposed to do right now.

“Good morning, everyone!” 65536’s loud voice makes all drones look at it. Some wave, some just yawn back, some look around as if wondering where they are, “Don’t panic about having no map markers today. I asked the Queen to give you a full day off and she agreed - that means we’ll be having one long breaky time and probably a longer sleepy time, because I’m sure you’ll be exhausted. However, before we begin I need two things. Number one - I need a couple volunteers to dig several shafts from the surface all the way down to the High Score cavern, plus a few more to build a chimney here in the throne room.”

“Wait, what?” asks Chrysalis, her voice silencing everyone instantly.

“As we were designing the shafts last night, I was thinking,” 65536 looks up at her with a smile, “Now that you can mine coal there’s no reason to keep scrounging up sticks here and there and, since we’ll be doing the same thing for the drones, why not build a proper hearth here in the throne room? The only difference is that we’ll need stone bricks so that the new controllable goopy walls don’t accidentally catch fire,” it shrugs in the end, “I cleared it with 156 and 387, but it’s up to you, of course.”

“Show me the design,” she says, and 65536 immediately mentally transmits the blueprint. It’s beyond simple - basically just a stone chimney by the wall to the bottom of which they’ll move the makeshift oven. Drone ability to smooth solid stone better than any pony implement gets rid of any need for mortar or explosive goop to keep the stones together, because gravity will do all the work with how tall the chimney will be to reach the roof, “I see no problem with the proposed addition to the throne room,” Chrysalis nods and checks the rest of the plans, “As for the other requests…”

There’s one major vent for 99856’s testing area - likely the most necessary one, since Chrysalis did see first-hoof the proof of the drone’s nose literally melting from the inside. A smaller one just for extra air flow for its laboratory too - not critical but its size doesn’t compromise security.

The second major one is for 99111’s workshop - if the hive begins smelting iron, it will be necessary for a furnace. Chrysalis briefly ponders it before making a change to the blueprint. Drones will dig out a new room which will serve as a smithy. That way, 99856’s two rooms will be analogic to 99111’s.

The third change - a major shaft will be added to the High Score Cavern to serve as a fireplace similar to the one 65536 designed for the throne room.

Finally, there’s one more new hole of drone size leading straight up from the HSC that’s marked as “surprise”. A way to the surface? The last thing the hive needs are drones running around the Badlands when bored without any way of tracking who goes in and out.

“65536, what’s that last shaft about?” she links up with 65536 and 387.

“It’s a surprise. I even wrote it there so you wouldn’t think I tried to add something without you knowing. You’ll like it,” replies 65536 cheerfully.

“387, you said I could trust you with the security of this whole ‘project’. A direct, unprotected access point like this is far from secure. What’s that all about?” she turns her attention to the warrior.

“I assure you I wasn’t too happy about it either, but there’s no way to do it differently right now. However, I’m already working on a followup project for 99111 and 99856 to shore up that weakness,” replies 387 in a completely official tone that always drives Chrysalis nuts because it heralds something not technically wrong but that would annoy her at best.

“But what is it for?” she presses him.

“Oh that? That’s a surprise,” 387 replies with a smile that makes Chrysalis’ eye twitch, “You’ll like it.”

She rolls her eyes and waves her fetlock dismissively, enjoying the brief moment of surprise in 387’s face. He was clearly expecting further pushback, possibly even outright denial of the project.

Two holes-damned clowns and I can’t read the mind of either of them.

Paranoia or not, 65536 has been a net benefit for the hive to such a degree that it warrants some… leeway. As much as she hates to admit it, that’s true even more for 387. It’s also clear that, as usual, 387 is doing all this to screw with her. 65536, however, isn’t, and if it believes this to be a good idea, it’s the one drone smart and experienced enough to gauge the consequences.

“Fine, go for it. I’ll judge the benefits for myself later,” she gives the permission in the real world as well, “Acceptable.”

“Thank you!” 65536 beams and looks back down at the drones surrounding it, “So, as I was saying - I’m going to need some volunteers who can dig the shafts and get some rocks for the chimney. You’ll lose out on today’s special activity but I’ll find a way to make it up to you, maybe with extra noms or something. If you’re interested, raise a hoof.”

Every single drone raises a hoof.

“Huh…” 65536 scratches its head, “Safe digging and extra noms. I should have expected that.”

“You know,” 99111 speaks out first, its extra grabby arm raised instead of a foreleg, “Since most of the digging will be done for our work, it’s only fair that 99856 and I are the ones to do it, no extra noms needed.”

“That idea crossed my mind,” 65536 nods, “but I think you two specifically could use some time outside because you might learn something that will eventually be useful for all drones.”

“Hey, yeah!” some drone agrees enthusiastically, “If this gets us more neat goop thingies, I’m all for 65536’s idea. Any drone with access to so many noms gots to know its stuff!”

“Oookay, I think we’ll only need ten drones at most and there’s about a hundred of us here. So, while we’re figuring this out we should scout if my plan is even possible to do in its entirety. I need someone to quickly run down to the High Score Cavern and see if the fire’s gone and how the smoke situation’s going.”

This time, everyone’s eyes lock on three drones in particular who exchange glances.

“Yay?” asks 99971 meekly.

“Super yay!” 99066 beams and hoof bumps 99012.

“99, go with them and give me a full status report,” Chrysalis interrupts 65536’s planning.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” 99 stands up from a Scufflestick game happening only on the hive mind overlay of the real world. The drone she’s been playing against curiously pokes the glowing figures invisible in the real world and wibbles when they fail to react to its touch and the entire board vanishes in the next moment, “Let’s call it a draw,” she whispers to the drone.

“Eeee, I got a draw against a high rank!” the wibbler immediately cheers up and starts visibly bouncing up and down, “I am the best Scufflesticky.”

The quicktrotters gather around 99. Despite 65536 seemingly being in charge of today’s activities, the presence of a high rank trumps everything, especially once 65536 gets swarmed by other drones trying to figure out who gets to dig the vents.

“Let’s go, you three. We have a mission to accomplish,” says 99 and leads the trio out of the throne room.

***

99 catches the quicktrotters glancing at her over and over while they’re walking down the tunnels. She can sense them talking through their hive links, and she could easily read what’s on the drones’ minds but in the spirit of practice she tries to analyze their body language instead. Their looks don’t feel hostile or worried to her, rather… eager to ask something but not sure how to approach the subject.

“Is anything wrong?” she asks, coming to the conclusion after ten minutes that if she doesn’t act first this might go on for their entire trip.

“You talked about it with her already,” whispers 99066 and nudges 99012.

“No, no no no,” 99012 shakes its head, “Umm, maybe. But not really!” it adds quickly.

“Is it about your quicktrotting thing?” 99 recalls her only major interaction with 99012.

“Mhm,” 99012 nods. 99 glances at the other two walking along who catch her looking and start quickly nodding.

“Well? I’m listening,” she fails to suppress a puzzled smirk. There’s no reason for the trio to be so worried around her.

“You see, whenever the three of us have the same destination, we go for a friendly trot - no love enhancements, just routing practice,” explains 99012, “Would you like to trot with us now? We still have a few levels to go before we reach home.”

99 smiles. Quicktrotters or not, there’s no world where a drone would outrun her, and she could use the morning stretch after lying on the cold floor of the throne room, playing Scufflestick.

“Sure, you lead the way and I’ll keep up,” she shrugs.

“Alrighty, everyone,” 99012 finds itself in familiar territory, “Let’s do the usual - I go first, five-count breaks,” It looks at 99, “That means we go in the order of rank and whoever goes next counts to five before they start running. Uhhhh… you don’t mind going last just this once, right?”

“Don’t worry about it,” 99 shakes her head.

Half a minute later, their hoofsteps are echoing loudly through the upper tunnels which are otherwise uncharacteristically silent due to the absence of all other drones. While the drones are fast –even though they’re not going at full speed according to themselves– 99’s expectation proves correct - as long as they’re inside a tunnel into which she can comfortably fit, she can easily keep up the pace with only a slightly elevated heart rate. On the more impressive hole, however, when they finally approach the HSC entrance the three drones are taking it just as well as she is.

They might not be particularly quick or strong, but they sure do have the endurance.

When 99 finally stops side by side with 99971 whose five seconds of head start she easily cleared during the run, the drones share their times:

“Three, twenty-five!” reports 99012

“Three, twenty-two,” 99066 beams.

“Three, twenty-seven,” says 99971, dead last but visibly pleased with itself.

“Same,” 99 adds her two bits, “You guys are pretty quick for drones. I might transform into a drone to even things out and run along with you sometime. 387 has been pestering me about my physical shape far too much recently,” she measures 99066, “Speaking of fitness, you don’t look so much faster than 99971. Five-second difference is a lot.”

“I’m not!” says 99066 triumphantly, “I’ve got a couple routing tricks up my leg holes. Quicktrotting is not as much about being fast as it’s about knowing where to step, when to keep your speed and when to slow down to not trip yourself. It’s more about your thinky ball,” it taps its head.

“Interesting,” 99 rubs her chin, “You know what? Once we’re finished here I’d like to learn more but the mission comes first,” her expression turns serious, and all three drones vigorously nod.

“Stuff still smells smokey,” 99971 sniffs the air.

“There’s all this new black dust on the floor,” 99066 experimentally kicks the layer of soot.

“Yeah, it still smells, but not as much and it’s not hot anymore,” says 99012, sticks its head into the crack serving as the HSC entrance, and they hear it sniff before it loudly calls out, “GOOP FRIEND, YOU’RE OKAY!”

“EEEEEE!” 99066 bolts after 99012 who disappears into the High Score Cavern.

“GASP! WE FORGOT TO TAKE IT WITH US!” 99971 follows.

99 has to shapeshift to fit through the drone-sized hole, and once she’s inside she sees all three quicktrotters surrounding some kind of a green, dome-shaped slime blob the size of a drone head. With this being a truly new dip into the unknown, 99 doesn’t risk anything and skims the drone’s minds, quickly revealing memories of 99066’s fall and the seemingly harmless nature of the slime. While she finds it difficult to believe that an underground creature would be as non-threatening as the drones think, it is quite possible that whatever the slime subsists on might be evolutionarily far enough from changelings. Considering that there’s an unbroken line clear of the soot, which otherwise forms a layer on everything else, ending at the slime’s position, her best guess is that the slime might be eating coal residue.

That would explain 99066 discovering it under a coal deposit. I wish a real chemist was here to examine this thing.

“Hmm, a slime,” she pokes its outer membrane. It jiggles without any reaction so she examines her hoof. There’s no residue of the contact, “It doesn’t seem acidic, which makes me wonder how it eats the material,” she nods to the cleared line the width of the slime’s bottom diameter when the quicktrotters give her quizzical looks, “Perhaps it emits some kind of vapor?” 99 reinforces her nasal passages and sniffs the air close to the slime.

Huh, the air around the thing certainly smells different. Cleaner. Downsides, 99, think of potential downsides!

No idea. It’s not aggressive, it doesn’t melt chitin, it seemingly even cleans the air. MAYBE if some drone ingested it there could be consequences, but right now I think it could only be dangerous to property, and even then only if SOME drone picked up SOMETHING this thing eats in a tunnel and SOMEHOW left it in its way for long enough so that the slime could wobble towards it.

99 shakes her head. She doesn’t know enough and there isn’t anyone around who does, so she focuses on the cavern itself. As noticed before, soot’s everywhere, meaning that 99856 must have gone overboard with the amount of coal it tried to burn. While using so much is stupid in hindsight, its only previous experience can’t have been more extensive than using a couple sticks and dried plants 57999 might have brought from the greenhouse, or maybe some accidentally flammable resin. To 99’s eyes, it quickly becomes clear that with the exception of the mess, the drone cavern is just fine. Of course, it’s bound to require some structural integrity assessment in case the fire damaged the rocks somehow, but drones can do that way better with just a few taps of a hoof so she leaves that to 10k for later. In light of that, she heads through the dissolved door in the back leading to 99111 and 99856’s workspaces.

99856’s testing area is just black. The soot layer on the floor is nearly a hoof thick, and all the walls as well as the ceiling are heavily stained, although a simple swipe of a hoof reveals that it will be easy to clean. The other three rooms are bricked off by thin, rectangular rocks which she removes only enough to sneak a clear look inside. Whoever blocked the passages to stop the smoke from getting in did an excellent job, and neither the workshop, the laboratory, nor the new coal storage are affected beyond a small semi-circle of black dust behind the barricade. Reassured that for how much mess the fire caused it did inversely as much damage, 99 returns to the HSC itself.

The slime has moved roughly half a pony length, eagerly followed by the quicktrotters. When they notice her walking back, 99971 nudges 99012who shakes its head and nudges it back. Visibly nervous, 99971 picks the slime up, turns it around, and points it towards 99. There are two dots and a curved line drawn on it in soot, forming a happy face.

“Umm, 99, we kinda thought you looked a bit… sad, and you said our goop friend is called a slime, so we turned it around and… now it’s a smile,” explains 99971 unprompted, and takes a step back as 99 approaches.

She has no idea how to respond. The whole development is unrelated to anything but also so quintessentially… drone-like. One breath which feels like an eternity later, she settles on:

“Thanks. I’ve had a lot on my mind recently.”

“Ohhh, I know that feeling,” 99066 nods, “Quicktrotting helps! The only thing you can think of is the route.”

“Or digging,” 99971 adds, sits down, and starts paddling its forelegs in front of it, “Once you start, you just keep going until the map says you’re done. There’s nothing in your head other than 99380’s tunes, and only if you want those.”

“Maybe that’s why 10k is so worried all the time,” 99012 rubs its chin, “Remember when we found it passed out in the coal tunnel? Its forelegs were all… crunchy- crunchier than usual.”

The comment makes some puzzle pieces lying around inside 99’s head click together, especially those left over from yesterday’s conversation with 10k.

10k’s problem isn’t just crushing responsibility. I thought it was metaphorical, but it literally can’t be the drone it’s supposed to be. For them, it’s not a job, it’s an identity.

The realization only leaves 99 with even less helpful advice she could offer.

“Now you’re looking even sadder…” mumbles 99971.

99 takes a deep breath and forces a smile.

“Sorry, I was thinking about something important that I didn’t handle well,” she pats the heads of the three drones one by one, “Your idea was good, and the slim- smile is cute,” she looks at the blob that’s back on the floor, clearing out the area underneath it as the soot lines are slowly disappearing, “In fact, if it’s not dangerous, could you bring more of them over here? It would make cleaning up a lot easier,” she points at the soot-less line.

“CAN TOTALLY DO THAT!” 99066 nods vigorously before glancing at the other two, “It’s not dangerous, just stay clear of the wet walls or you’ll get stuck until you dry up like I did.”

“Lead the way,” says 99012.

“Count to five?” asks 99971.

Fifteen seconds later, 99 can only hear the echoes of the last set of rapidly disappearing hoofsteps. Experimentally, she reaches over to the slime and leaves her hoof on its top. It doesn’t react at all.

“It doesn’t seem to be intelligent in any way,” she raises her hoof after a while and observes her now clean underhoof, “Unless it starts multiplying or the extras they bring somehow coagulate together into a slime monster, they’ll have something to clean all the mess left over from mining and freshen up the air a bit,” she walks over to the access crack, shrinks, walks through, and concentrates on her hive link.

She easily reaches the Queen.

“Mission accomplished, Your Majesty. The fire is out, but it’s still hard to breathe. Despite that, it seems to me it’s safe to start digging the new shafts. The only exception is the testing area itself where there might be some structural integrity issue, but I can’t assess that. The drones found some kind of a coal-eating slime that seems harmless but can slowly clear all the soot caused by the fire, so I sent 99012, 99066, and 99971 for more. The place should be okay by the time the drones are scheduled to go to sleep today.”

“Understood. I’ll boot them out immediately. Playing fetch is getting boring, although it’s fun to watch them bounce off of each other as they rush for the ball. No matter what 387 says about potential brain damage,” replies Chrysalis and cuts the communication.

With nothing more to do, 99 sits down by the crack and waits for the quicktrotters.

*Clip clop.*

Her brain immediately fires on all cylinders. Those are not drone hoofsteps.

Did I drift off?!

She looks both ways and spots 415 approaching, tailed by a female warrior by the rank 966.

I should have noticed them way before I heard them.

“Just the changeling I wanted to see,” opens 415 with a smirk, “Did I miss a rebellion or is there a reason why there are no drones working today? With how things have been moving in their favor, one can’t be sure of anything these days.”

Despite how much 99 wants to quickly scramble to her hooves, she retains the self-control to move slowly and deliberately as if her rank really was at least close to what a top 100 changeling should be.

“Due to 65536’s visit, the Queen agreed that the drones can have a day off,” she replies. Catching a small crack in 415’s confident expression at the mention of the visitor.

“That seems unwise. I wonder what hive-supporting operations we will have to cancel due to ensuing resource limitations,” comments 415.

“As far as I know, none. The reports show a surplus in everything the infiltrators on missions need, and we can’t scale up operations due to heavy winter anyway. Don’t worry, everything points to a short time off being risk-free at worst and downright beneficial at best,” 99 retorts.

“Does it?” 415 narrows his eyes, “You are not at all bothered by their mind control resistance and militarization? Today they want a day off, tomorrow they take it with fire and acid.”

“The Queen is taking the drones’ sudden progress into consideration, and has sent me to oversee their weapons research… once they get to it,” 99 replies in a neutral tone. Some instinct is screaming at her that she isn’t safe in this situation, although her life so far has been violence-free.

“A good choice, maybe,” 415 looks into 99’s eyes, “Tell me, what should a Queen do if, entirely hypothetically, drones killed a ranked changeling? No accident, just a high rank catching some drones doing something they weren’t allowed to, and the drones somehow killed that high rank to avoid being reported.”

99 skims the top of 415's mind as lightly as she can and she quickly learns that she’s definitely not skilled enough to dig into him on the spot without him noticing. On the other hole, she does feel confident about it being true the other way around too, especially since 387 has been teaching her some basic mental tricks from his personal bag of surprises, and those have supposedly protected him from Chrysalis and everyone before her for ages.

“I’d say that exile would be the starting point and everything else would depend on the details,” she replies, hiding her curiosity and keeping her voice thoughtful as if only toying with a hypothetical scenario, “Is there a point you’re getting to or are you for some unbelievable reason scared of drones?” she adds an incredulous chuckle to the question. This is a game, and if 415 thinks he’s the only one who is playing she can catch him off-guard.

“Exile does sound like a good starting point,” he ignores her remark, “Which means you’re already thinking clearer than our current ruler. In light of that, I have one more question - do you know that a classless changeling is nonsense?” he laughs as he notices 99 blink, “Oh I know what you are better than you do, 99. New Queens exist to gain power and fight for leadership, either winning the hive or feeding the original Queen an amount of refined energy she can’t get anywhere else. You’re not Chrysalis’ first daughter I outlived, and the last one got torn to shreds by top ranks, screaming for help while Chrysalis left her to die for being weak. If you choose the quick way out, ask Chrysalis directly what happened to her previous direct descendant. If, however, you want to have a fighting chance, figure out what happened to 745 without her finding out. Maybe then you’ll understand whom Chrysalis really values.”

“You do realize that if I ask her and she kills me, you’re next, right?” 99 raises an eyebrow.

415 chuckles.

“Let’s say I trust your judgement,” he turns around and walks away.

99 immediately starts replaying the conversation in her head.

I really, really, REALLY should tell the Queen immediately. On the other hole, it’s not as if I can’t ask a few questions here and there. He must have a failsafe in case I just ask Chrysalis, right? He wouldn’t be bluffing…

She takes a deep breath.

Okay, so let’s entertain the hypothetical scenario. If it’s about power, it’s bound to be a long-term plan. Eating me would be pointless as I am now. Holes, she might do better by eating one of the main gate sentries. This could all even be just a test from Chrysalis, holes know it wouldn’t be the first one.

Faced with this web of assumptions and guesses, 99 cracks an uncharacteristically evil smile.

Once you stop trembling, this gets FUN.

Author's Note

Just uploading a chapter earlier because it's Christmas and I have nothing special. Writing has been slow lately, mostly because of too much work and Rogue Trader.
So... all you get are more drones.
Happy Hard Swarming!

Playing games: 2

“GUUUYS!” 65536 calls out loudly, its voice echoing around the throne room, “Alright, who got the most ball catches?”

Up on the throne, Chrysalis dissolves the solid ball of goop she’s been “entertaining herself” with and rolls her eyes.

This is our best way of figuring out who’s the most suited for digging vents and building things. How are we still a species?

“I got three!” calls out 99501.

“Ha! Four,” 99109 raises its hoof next.

65536 listens as several more drones report their results. It’s not worried they would lie or anything, they know how easy it is to check and they don’t want to hurt other drones. Eventually, it counts off twelve drones whose job today will be getting rocks for the throne room chimney, building it, and digging the new vents. Moments later, it mentally shares with them the plans they modelled last night with 387 and the others, and gives the plan a go. Four drones rush off immediately while the other eight just group up, waiting for further instructions.

“Okay, everyone! Thank Her Majesty for letting us sleep here tonight, and let’s go!” orders 65536.

“Thank you, Her Magic Stick!”

Chrysalis waves her hoof.

“Just go. And obey 65536, I’ll know if you don’t!” she says menacingly.

A couple minutes later, she finds herself alone in the throne room and dives into the hive mind.

Finally, some peace and quiet.

***

65536 leads the drones through the main entrance of the hive where it quickly finds itself flanked by 2119 and 3012.

“The Queen can’t spare anyone else so she told us to keep an eye on you,” explains the higher ranked infiltrator, “Don’t worry, we won’t interfere in any way unless you want us to or you’re in danger.”

“I don’t think anyone will mind if you have fun with us,” 65536 smiles at them, tilts its head, and points to either of the sentries respectively, “Hey, did you swap the clothes I gave you?”

“Yes, we did,” 3012 nods, “We’re trying to see what feels better for whom. Is that a problem?”

“Nope! That’s very smart. Now-” it turns around and sees the crowd of drones hesitantly stepping on the spot just outside the entrance, looking around with mouths slightly agape, “Uhh, guys?”

“What’s the grey stuff on top of this huuuuuge cavern?” asks someone.

“Why is it so cold?” meeps a different drone.

“This white-cold thingy is slippery,” a drone kicks up a shower of snow, “But also crunchy and powdery. It’s more like white-confusing.”

10k limps over to 65536.

“We could use some kind of introduction to, well, all of this, I think,” it pokes the snow, “The only ones who know anything are 57999 and its assistants and that extends to ‘snow is cold and plants need warmth’.”

“Good thinking,” 65536 nods, “Alright, everyone! This white stuff is called snow. It can be solid, or you can just dive into it, or it can be slippery, it all depends on many things. No matter what, it’s just very cold water with some extra stuff in it. You can eat it if you want but you’ll get chilly quicker. In fact, I encourage you to experiment with it because there’s a LOT of it, as you can see, and you might find a way in which it might help the hive.”

“Ooo, sparkly!” a drone looks down at the stomped section of the sloping ramp leading from the hive, prompting 10k to look up and see the sun behind parting clouds and livening up the otherwise steel-grey sky.

“The Great Shiny is here to see what we’re doing,” jokes the drone leader.

“Eeee! The Great Shiny!” drones look up en masse, mesmerized but beaming from ear to ear, “It’s real! IT’S REAL!”

“So pretty…”

“It’s real and it wants you to be good drones and listen to 65536 right now, got it?” 10k raises its voice.

Drones start quickly nodding and roughly a hundred pairs of eyes lock on 65536. Without realizing it, the guard drone slips into a drill sergeant mode and starts pacing back and forth while raising its voice.

“Vent digging team, you can go. The plans are accessible in the hive mind, temporary section pp-fj-P0-234. If you finish early or if it becomes too cold for you to continue, contact me,” it looks at the chosen eight drones who nod back and, as it often is with drones, follow the first one to move, “Everyone else, there are a couple activities I’ve been thinking we could do here. Of course, you are free to explore the surface in your own way, just stay within sight of the main group. Now, how about we start with some sledding? We can make sleds and skis later, but first we need to build a slide from the snow. Come on, let’s roll all this snow into a proper hill!”

***

While most drones swarm around 65536 and start gathering snow, several split off for some more specific exploration as encouraged. One of those is 99856 who quickly notices that, while powdery, the snow that gets under its carapace doesn’t scratch it like all other materials. It examines the gaps in its armor, shakes its legs, and watches sprinkles of water come off.

Since 65536 said this snow was just water with extra stuff, why is it water now? How does it snowify? How does it waterify again?

99856 grabs a hoofful and eats it. Moments later, it hucks out a glob of goop back into its hoof and examines it up close by looking at it, sniffing it, and finally licking it. Finding nothing special, it lets the goop chunk drop on the snow and watches as it quickly melts a hole all the way down until it stops on the ground.

Huh, the snow sheet is almost a full drone high but it seems to be harder on the bottom. Maybe because it’s packed?

It grabs more snow, eats a couple hooffuls this time and, while waiting for its internal chemistry to work, gathers more and pats it into a harder disc between the frogs of its hooves.

Yup, gets harder when packed together. Let’s try this…

It hucks out a fresh glob of goop on the packed snow, and observes two things. The expected one is that even the harder snow disc shows very little resistance even to barely acidic goop. The fresh find, however, is that the goop is slightly more runny.

Snow, maybe even water makes goop more… goopy. Note to self - make a trip to the safest stream in the deep tunnels and get some more water. Note two - make a much bigger jug. Note three - get more snow and compare the two.

***

As the artificial snow slope grows, fueled by the drone desire to make the biggest slide ever as well as the need to warm up by moving, 99111 pokes the packed snow with its grabby back arm. The outstretched claw slides into the wall with some difficulty.

This could work as a building material, but 65536 said it was just water.

The drone briefly reminisces about its trip to the tropical island one year and a half ago and puts two and two together.

Ice cream!

So it needs to be very cold to make water into this “snow”.

Its interest wanes almost immediately as it starts looking around at most drones having fun and a couple of curious outliers working on their own. The material isn’t usable for building or forging purposes, and 99856 is already over there, mixing goop and snow over and over in varying ratios, so 99111 can go over its list of results within the hive mind later, or even just ask.

“Hmm, what to do?” 99111’s fifth leg scratches its head.

Just out of curiosity, it makes a small box out of the tamped snow and spits goop into it. Like during 99856’s experiment, it just melts through. With that avenue of research firmly in 99856’s trustworthy grasp, 99111 finds itself out of ideas. Granted, the surface is mostly unexplored, but all that’s everywhere the eye can see is snow. With a sigh, it stops looking into the distance and finds itself scrutinized by a trio of rather new drones whose eyes are locked on its back leg.

“Hi?” it says in a questioning tone, “Do you need anything?”

The drones all speak out at once:

“How did you get that grabby?”

“Can I get one too?”

“Do you dig with it?”

99111 blinks in surprise.

“Is this the first time you’re seeing me?”

“Nu uh,” says one, shaking its head, “We saw you last breaky time when you told us to follow you.”

“Oh…” 99111 pauses, “I have been sleeping in the workshop a lot since the music box broke. Maybe a bit too much,” it chuckles and faces the patiently waiting drones, “I suppose you mean how you can get an extra limb that stays on, right? You’re not just asking how to shapeshift.”

*Nod nod nod nod!*

“Sure, let’s slip into the hive mind and I’ll show you how it went,” 99111 smiles and sits down, shivering at the cold touch, “Maybe I’ll think of something to do in the meantime.”

The drones bounce up and down before joining the tinkerer.

***

10k feels relieved, a feeling that’s been avoiding it for a long time now.

It’s not because everyone around is busy and full of love. That’s a state of affairs it’s been working tirelessly to build since it’s been put in charge of drones, unofficially at first due to simply being a top rank and later by being officially picked by the Queen.

No, it’s because, for the first time since the island events, its entire body isn’t in pain.

During their short trip from the hive here, 10k noticed that its carapace felt a little numb, especially its hooves in contact with the snow, so it decided to take it a step further and dug itself a hole to crawl into. Digging without pain –an activity that was gone from 10k’s life for nearly two years– was only the first surprising benefit. The second one affected its entire body - it was cold, then the cold burned for the briefest moment, but that was nothing new, and finally everything went blissfully numb.

Now it’s lying on its belly in a small burrow a short way away from the drones building the slide, buried in the snow with the exception of its head. 10k is simply relaxing and focusing on its breathing, half awake and half inside the hive mind, finally able to lie on something without grinding its teeth in discomfort. Not feeling anything from the neck down is only a minor drawback. Without its body to constantly bother 10k, it’s so much easier to focus, and it slips into the hive mind without any real direction. It immediately connects with the overwhelming, but not oppressive in the least, presence of 99380, which empowers 10k’s mental senses like a gentle guiding hoof. In the real world, 99380 is happily running around and helping everyone else build the ever-growing snow slope.

Huh?

Two mental signatures burning together like a beacon bring 10k’s attention to them, and its mind follows, revealing them to be 99 and 387. To the drone’s surprise, neither of those seem aware that 10k and 99380, in a sense, are present. Soon, 10k gets so “close” that it slips into a mental space they’re occupying and gets a visual input.

Right now, 99 and 387 are running through a natural tunnel, following what looks like a drone. The speed difference is balanced by the fact that the tunnel isn’t big enough for the high ranks to run comfortably in, and they’re not transformed for a reason 10k can’t immediately see. Despite that, they’re keeping the drone within view no matter the changes in terrain. To 10k, something about the tunnel feels strange, and it’s not just it being a mental construct. It takes a moment to figure out, but it quickly realizes what it is - the tunnel is safe. There are no distant noises, strange echoes, dangerous smells, or dozens of other tiny hints a drone must learn in order to reach the ripe, old age of week two. Despite the difficult and shifting terrain underhoof, the winding and splitting tunnel the unknown drone is fleeing through is as safe as it can be.

Eventually, however, the flight ends when the drone reaches a small, dead-end cave where it turns around and, to the shock of 10k, smiles.

“Interesting,” it says and its voice is immediately familiar to 10k as the Voice, “You have a completely unique way of manipulating the hive mind, 387. Wait, no… rare but not unique. That’s strange.”

The warrior narrows his eyes as he enters the cave, lowered into a combat stance. 99 takes place next to him, her breathing heavy after the chase.

“Good idea for you to take someone as different as 387 with you, 99. I couldn’t counter his manipulation in time,” says the Voice as the drone sits down, hind legs spread and forelegs propping it, “So, I learned a lot from watching 387 work, but what were you two expecting from this encounter?”

“Well, 387, what do you think?” 99 looks at the warrior who isn’t letting his eyes leave the drone.

“It’s unlike any hive mind entity I’ve ever seen before, but it IS one. It doesn’t present any external markers,” replies the warrior, “It doesn’t seem to be increasing our love expenditure despite it being, frankly, stupidly powerful either, which is beyond weird. Good on you for not telling Chrysalis first.”

“The Queen does tend to overreact,” the Voice nods.

“Don’t second me, we’re not friends,” 387 barks at the drone.

“While you might not be mine, I am yours,” counters the Voice.

“The drones think it’s a friend,” comments 99, “And the memories of its actions that I could safely dig out of their heads support the assumption.”

“It could also be playing the long game,” 387’s tone turns dark, “Wouldn’t be the first.”

“Which is why you’re here,” 99 nods.

“All I can say right now is that it’s not some manipulation by Chrysalis or anyone else. As for the identity of this… being, it feels unique even to me. I don’t know.”

“Awww,” the Voice mumbles in disappointment.

“What?” 387 transforms its hoof into claws and physically grabs the drone, turning it from side to side.

“I was hoping to learn more about myself,” says the Voice, unbothered by the manipulation, “No one I can access has any information.”

“Does that mean you can’t access my mind?” asks 387.

“You are different from everyone else. I mean, almost everyone else. Now that we’re up close and I’ve had time to examine you, I can sense a mind similar to yours arou-” it falls on the ground as 387 lets it go.

“Who?!” 387 growls.

“I don’t know. I can only support those whom drones consider friends.”

“Wait, does that mean drones don’t consider me a friend?” asks 387, tilting his head and momentarily latching onto what seems to be an inconsistency, “Or 156, or the Queen?”

“It doesn’t,” the Voice shakes its head, “You are unique, or you were until now. Your question is more correct for 156, as she isn’t close enough to the drones. They also don’t consider the Queen one of them,” it quickly adds, ”Not in a bad way, more a higher being. It’s difficult to explain the limits of my… designation either. Maybe we are all thinking about it the wrong way, but I don’t have a better guess at the moment,” the Voice sighs, “Sorry. I will work on figuring it out and I might be able to answer soon.”

Its tone is so genuine that it gives even paranoid 387 a pause, and he looks at 99 who is silently watching the situation unfold.

“Does that mean I can talk to you whenever?” she asks.

“Yes, it does,” the drone interpretation of the Voice nods, “All you need to do is think about me. Drones normally just refer to me as Voice.”

99 decides to test something.

Voice, what number am I thinking of?

“You’re thinking of number 532213,” says the Voice.

“Can you do the same with me?” asks 387 after trying to do the same without invoking any reaction from the Voice, just to test if it’s lying.

“No,” it shakes its head, “Your mind is alien to me but I feel like I will be able to become a part of you like with everyone else-”

“Don’t,” says 387.

“I can help.”

“No.”

“As you wish. If you need anything from me, you’ll have to call through your hive link then.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” says 387 flatly, “Now, let’s get back to the mind similar to mine. What can you tell me?”

“Nothing,” says the Voice, “I noticed it only recently. Now that I have experience with you I at least know what it is.”

“Can you track me?”

“I can now, to a limited degree,” the drone nods, “I’ll get better at it with time.”

“Can you track the other one?”

“No, I can’t.”

“Can it mean it’s not a drone ‘friend’?”

The Voice pauses before nodding.

“I suppose it can.”

“Alright. 99, we’re done here,” 387 looks at her.

“What do we do with… this, uhh, entity?” she pokes the unmarked drone.

“You try to figure out a way to tell Chrysalis about this that won’t make her try to purge the hive mind the only way I can think of - killing every changeling in the vicinity and then erasing her own memories. I have to find- if there’s another flutter- old changeling- I gotta go.”

387’s mental image vanishes and, moments later, he becomes impossible to sense for 99. She opens her eyes in the real world, and the warrior is gone as well. The mental trap they tried to construct in order to ensnare the hive mind entity unravels as 99 isn’t able to keep it together on her own. To her surprise, once the trap is gone, she hears the Voice say:

“Is there anything else I can help you with, aside from 415’s warning?”

“You know about-” 99 sighs, this worrying entity is proving to be way out of her league, “Yeah. That’s bad. What do you think-”

99’s words cut off for 10k and the drone leader stops being able to listen in.

“Sorry, 10k,” says the Voice, “This topic is something 99 considers extremely private. Knowing about it might harm her trust.”

“Oh,” 10k’s mental presence gathers enough for it to be able to reply, “Sure, that’s no problem. I was kinda drifting off anyway. I’m glad you made friends.”

“I wouldn’t call it that, but it’s a start.”

With the Voice’s reply, 10 finds itself alone in the dark.

Uhh, I would like to wake up now.

Nothing.

It can barely even sense other drones.

“99380? Can you hear me?” it tries to connect to the strongest mental presence to no avail. In light of that, it returns to its only contact, “Voice?”

“Yes?” a reply comes, causing a small amount of relief in 10k.

“I think something’s wrong. I can’t wake up or call anyone.”

“I don’t know much about the outside. Give me a moment,” replies the voice. A brief pause later, it adds, “They’re coming for you. No matter what happens, don’t fall asleep.”

“Alright,” 10k nods, “I’m not tired or anything anyway.”

The moment it says that, however, a familiar wave of numb weariness washes over it. Unfortunately, it’s familiar in the bad way, and brings back the memories of the time 10k thought it was dying inside the crumbling underground complex a year and a half ago. Now it knows that at the time it was just the effect of 36658’s special agonyslayers, but what could it be now?

10k takes a deep breath, keeps its eyes open, and begins doing yoga. Pushing through the pain which even its mental form goes through helps fight the dizziness.

You’ve been here before. You know help is coming. You know what to do.

There’s no reason to panic.

So 10k does something completely un-dronelike, and doesn’t.

Author's Note

Happy New Year. I still haven't thought of a drone version like Hard Swarming. But let's hope we'll be finally moving from old rules to new rules, at least a little bit.

Playing games: 3

99200 shivers and turns its head to see if it’s still within sight of the main group, or in this case the now massive sledding slope serving as a guiding beacon. The explorer drone is living up to its unofficial title, standing alone on the open plain and pondering how one would survive this cold if left on its own, with its time ticking down due to the cold making its hooves numb. It starts with the basics:

A hole?

The digging helps warm it up for a moment, but it quickly becomes clear that the protection the hole offers is woefully limited, especially whenever the freezing wind picks up.

Think! You’re alone, freezing, and you’re not in any immediate danger from the usual gribblers. A hole isn’t enough, but you know a hole gets warmer if you’re inside it for a while. I don’t know of a cold-proof carapace design. No material to make clothes like 65536 taught you either. Alright, can I make something from the snow?

The best idea it comes up with is covering the hole’s entrance and leaving only a small airhole. Despite the small pocket of snow slowly heating up to a survivable degree, at least in the short term, 99200 finds itself disappointed in itself.

It’s a hole. A hole works. Still just a hole, though. This isn’t good enough.

***

10k is finally allowed to open its corporeal eyes, although the darkness of the hive mind does not get replaced by the expected whiteness of the snowfield where the drone was previously resting. In fact, the present green-tinted light softens the darkness only slightly and things become clear when, from the corner of its eye, 10k spots the goop skylight of the throne room.

“...why…” it tries to speak and its mouth barely works. As far as trying to get up goes, it can’t feel anything below its chin whatsoever. Come to think of it, that’s still a plus. Aside from the gap in recent memory, though, its mind feels fine, so 10k reaches out mentally, “What’s going on? Why am I in the throne room? How am I lying on my back without keeling over?”

65536’s head peeks into 10k’s field of view.

“You almost froze to death, it’s warmer here, and you are propped by some of the stones the guys are using to build the chimney,” explains the guard drone, “We just finished the skiing slope and 99526 was making goop skis for everyone when the Voice told me something was wrong with you. Your rescue team guys helped me look and we found you buried in the snow. What happened?”

“My hooves were getting numb but that also stopped them from hurting, so I wanted to test it with the rest of my body and it worked!”

Even a kind drone like 65536 opens its mouth to scold 10k for doing something this dangerous before stopping itself.

I’ve never taken the guys outside before, the new vents were installed after our return from the island trip, and even ponies said this winter was the coldest one in ages. How could 10k have known this would happen?

“Buddy, please don’t do it again,” says 65536 instead, “Extreme cold is as deadly as extreme heat, only for a different reason,” it leans closer, “There’s a very good reason why Luna always loads me up with spare clothes and warming amulets whenever I travel here.”

“Lesson learned. I still can’t feel anything below my chin, though. Do I still have all those bits?”

“You’re in one piece, don’t worry. With some love and care, I think you’ll be fine. I got badly frostbitten a couple times and Mister Night Hunter told me we changelings heal a lot better than ponies. It’ll hurt, though.”

“How… novel,” comments 10k dryly, “Now I won’t be able to walk in addition to digging and carrying. But hey, at least I’m still a ‘thinker’,” it adds with a suspicious amount of venom in its voice.

65536 files the remark away for later, leans over, and repositions 10k’s head.

“Now that I’m looking at you up close I wonder - can you heal your head?” it runs its hoof along the top of 10k’s neck, stopping at a spot where the chitin looks the most in one piece, “Let’s say around here.”

“It’s a bit too accurate, but I think I can get the general area,” 10k concentrates.

65536 watches a patch of green fire appear, follow the shape of the head carapace, and then seemingly sink under the carapace when it reaches the shattered part before fading. 10k groans in pain and its eye twitches as the carapace around the affected area seems to move and… bulge.

“Hmmm,” 65536 bites its lip and transforms its right front hoof into sharp claws, “10k, can I try something? It might hurt a lot.”

“Sure,” 10k tries speaking again, this time successfully, “Might deserve it anyway…”

One of 65536’s new claws glows green, and the guard drone uses it to focus its digging power like a scalpel, cutting a strip of 10k’s carapace off and peeling it away as the drone hisses in pain. It doesn’t reveal green flesh as one would expect, rather a softer part of the carapace surrounded by fresh, greenish-brown blood. 65536 cuts around that too, finally getting to the green membrane which serves as the soft part of changeling skin. 10k’s is ruptured and scabbing over in front of 65536’s eyes.

“Don’t try to heal yet,” it tells 10k. When the drone leader nods, 65536 cuts out an even larger strip of carapace and watches for a while before saying, “Okay, can you heal the parts I cut out?”

10k takes a deep breath, and changeling fire reforms a layer of chitin over the cleared area.

A seamless layer.

65536 smiles to itself.

A seamless layer that gets displaced and squeezed by the ruined, multi-layered carapace surrounding it that makes it dig back into the “skin” membrane.

65536’s smile transforms into a thoughtful expression.

“I can see your face,” croaks 10k, “You’re thinking.”

“I occasionally do that. The trick is to not overdo it or your head’s gonna start hurting,” 65536 returns to 10k’s field of view, “So, the good news is that I might be able to help you. The bad news is, well, did I say it might hurt already?”

“Twice, I think. And it did. A lot,” 10k winces.

“Considering that we need to get your blood flowing so that you can heal the parts you can’t feel right now, it will be much worse.”

If drones could pale, 10k would, and 65536 reads its ensuing paralyzed expression well enough to realize just how badly its previous attempt must really have hurt.

“I’m sorry,” adds 65536, “We don’t need to do it, it’s just the only thing I can see working right-”

“Go for it,” says 10k, “If I start crying it won’t be from pain, just because I miss 36658 and its tormentannihilators so much.”

65536 snickers and pats 10k’s head.

“Tomorrow. I need to prepare a couple things and you must rest up. In fact, I advise you to go to sleep right after we finish here and not wake up until I poke you.”

“Do you need me to do anything else while we’re here?”

“That depends. Can you feel your body again?”

“Uhhh,” 10k tries to move its legs. All that ensues is a ticklish feeling, “Not much. It just tingles a little.”

“Then I do still need you here,” 65536 swings its hind leg over 10k’s barrel, lowers itself down while careful not to sit on it, grabs 10k’s forelegs, and starts slowly moving them up and down, bending at the knees, “We need to get your blood flowing again.”

“Is it not? Where is it?” 10k reminds 65536 that, despite being the drone leader, it’s still just a drone who left the hive only twice in its life, and whose species doesn’t know what a doctor is, “Is that why I can’t move?”

“Yes, it is,” 65536 replies, moving the forelegs non-stop. A massage would help a pony, but rubbing another drone’s natural, unsoftened carapace would likely be pointless, so controlled movement is the only way.

“Aaaa haaa-” 10k grits its teeth as the tingling in its legs turns into sharp needles digging deep, “I don’t like what’s happening. I don’t like it at all.”

“It’s not dangerous. It’ll just be extremely unpleasant for a while. That’s the blood starting to flow correctly through your legs again. On the other hole, you should be able to move on your own a little more now,” explains 65536.

10k hisses in pain but tries to control its limbs and make them do the movement otherwise only forced by 65536.

“I think my body hates me,” it groans.

“Don’t be silly,” feeling 10k moving its forelegs on its own, 65536 shuffles downwards and starts working on its hind legs in the same way, “It’s all just biology that we know only very little about. Trust me, I spent a lot of time since last winter digging through books of all the libraries of Canterlot in order to find anything about changeling medicine to explain why you’re not healing. I even found a couple of old changelings who’d lived in Canterlot pre-invasion and they didn’t know anything.”

“I wasn’t- ow! I wasn’t joking,” 10k sharply breathes in as the pain spikes again, this time throughout its lower body, “Did I tell you what 36658 did before… you know? It killed a wounded griffon. It didn’t have to, the griffon was unable to defend himself, but it did. In its case, it just started stuttering. I haven’t told this to anyone, but over the past two weeks, my body has gotten worse. Since…”

“You sent Smiley away because it caused 47989’s death? 387 told me about it.”

“There’s more to it than I told 387,” 10k shakes its head, “If that’s all he told you, he didn’t read my mind. I left some stuff out when we talked about it. He’s right behind me, isn’t he?” it adds.

“Heh, no. We’re alone. I have no idea where the top ranks went, and the drones are still outside, watched by 2119 and 3012,” 65536 smiles at 10k, “Let’s leave it for tomorrow, though. I’ll be operating on you for a long time, so you’ll be able to tell me everything. If 57999’s agonyslayers don’t knock you out completely, that is.”

“I’m gonna wish they did, aren’t I?”

“Yep,” 65536 nods, “But, if possible, I’m going to need you awake, because I’ll be doing something that’s never been done, or at least recorded, before. All I know about our bodies is what I’ve tried over the years whenever I got hurt too badly during training or a shift. I never let Luna just use healing magic despite it happening a lot. She hates it but it’s all part of the training.”

“Well,” 10k forces a smirk, “I’m gonna get some pain-handling training too then.”

“Too bad you’ll be getting the expert version immediately.”

This time, 10k chuckles earnestly before grunting in pain as the expected needle pain gets worse.

“Heh. When have we drones had it easy?”

***

99380 looks sideways at 99533, both standing on goop skis atop the frankly unreasonably tall snow slope the drones have managed to build so far.

“Three… two… one… go!” a drone standing by the bottom of the slope linked up with the two counts down.

99380 and 99533 lean downwards and start accelerating down the slope until they reach a jumping off point. Unfortunately, when making plans for the slope, 65536 apparently forgot that the jumping off point shouldn’t bend back upwards. At the speed the two drones are going, it catapults them into the air, both squee-ing in pure excitement.

“99380, we found 99200 not moving inside a hole. Can you call 65536? 10k was like that when 65536 carried it off over an hour ago.”

The two drones flying at a rapid speed through the air look at each other, 99380 smiles, and vanishes in a burst of green flames. 99533 blinks mid-air, so completely taken aback that it forgets where it is, flies over the drones digging the new vents, and slams into the snow bank on the side of the hive, bouncing along the new slope.

Thankfully, drones are very drop-proof unless they hit a hard surface head-on, so when 99533 eventually stops, it just remains there, concussed but otherwise mostly healthy in a situation that would leave a pony a mangled mess.

As if nothing happened, 99380 reappears right next to 99112 and the other two members of the response team as they’re carrying unconscious 99200 towards the hive’s entrance.

“Wow, that was quick,” comments 99911, “How did you do that? We could really use some kind of instant movement. Just imagine - a drone calls to us for help so we just grab some melties and appear nearby in a moment.”

“I’m not really sure, sorry,” 99380 rubs its head, slightly embarrassed at being unable to help, “A lot of weird things just kinda… happen to me. You know what? Let me carry 99200 and I’ll try to do it again.”

The drones load 99200 onto 99380’s back.

“Hmmm, now what was I do-”

In a burst of green fire, 99380 vanishes again along with the unsuccessful survivalist.

***

“I leave for three hours and when I come back there are two frozen drones in the throne room?” 156 rolls her eyes as she returns from whatever high rank business she was tasked with. She immediately checks the minds of the two shivering drones and facehoofs, “And both because they stuck themselves up to their necks in snow.”

“In my defense, I briefly felt much better,” says 10k, sitting on the floor by a large box radiating a small amount of heat previously not seen by 156, wrapped in 65536’s spare clothes with only its head peeking out.

“...the hole became comfortable and warm after a while…” mumbles 99200 quietly from inside said heated box “...I thought the shelter started working…”

“Yes, hypothermia does that,” 156 sighs, “What were 2119 and 3012 doing?”

“Watching the rest of us who were building the big skiing slope. We got kinda carried away,” 65536, keeping an eye on the two thawing drones, smiles at 156, “10k, 99200, and a few others went off to explore just in case the surface would help them discover something to help them down in the tunnels. Thankfully, we found both 10k and 99200 before something bad could happen.”

“I hope you established some sort of a periodic check-in for everyone afterwards, just in case someone else explored a little too much,” the infiltrator looks at 65536.

“Yup,” the guard drone nods, “99380 is doing that.”

“Everyone is okaaaay!” calls a voice from the ceiling on which 99380 is currently casually standing upside-down as if gravity was optional, poking the section where 156 recalls the quicktrotter skip is with that strange dwarven staff they’d brought from the island a year and a half ago.

156 can’t sense heightened love usage from the drone which would hint at some transformation, which makes her wonder how 99380 is doing that. Some kind of a new goop invention, perhaps?

“What are you doing up there?” she asks.

“Just checking if the skip exit we found here is different from the others. By the way, there’s a skip entrance somewhere around the throne room too but I haven’t found it yet. For some reason, the whoomer doesn’t seem to be working here the same way it does in the tunnels,” 99380 looks down, catching 156’s patient stare, “Right, coming!”

In a burst of green fire, it teleports down, making the infiltrator jump backwards and lower into a combat pose.

“WHAT. THE. HOLES?!” she snarls at the drone.

“Meep?” 99380 backpedals, dropping the whoomer, understandably spooked, “What, where, who?” it turns around to see if something’s behind it. Turning back to face 156 whose expression has softened, it adds, “Me?”

The infiltrator takes a slow breath and gradually releases it.

“99380, how did you just teleport?” she asks slowly and patiently, knowing the confused drone enough to understand that this is bound to take some digging.

“Tele-what? You said you wanted me to come down and at first I wanted to fly down but you sounded like you meant right now, so I… uhh… I’m not sure. I think I did the same thing when I got 99200 here. I think it just happened to me a couple times before. I… start doing something and my head gets kinda lost, but my body gets me where I need to be,” 99380 gives her an apologetic look, “Sorry. There’s always so much to do and to think about…”

“99380, no one but the Queen can just teleport- just vanish and reappear elsewhere. As far as I know, barely a few top ranks were able to do it even before the invasion. You’re a drone who can, somehow, do it. You shouldn’t have the control or love, and yet you’re not even particularly exhausted after doing it,” 156 walks over to the once again worried drone and grabs its shoulders. When her amazement gives way to her noticing 99380 trying to look as small as possible, her expression softens, “That’s not a bad thing. I’m just amazed. If you could teach others how to do it, it would be… incredible.”

And just like that, 99380’s worries vanish. It’s just a simple drone who believes in smart guys, and 156 chides herself for not approaching the situation with as much precision as an infiltrator should.

“Yay,” says 99380 and smiles.

“I need to check your head,” says 156, “You can help me by recalling the instances when you just moved without really thinking about it.”

“Oooh, I can remember a few!” 99380 jumps in place, “When I got almost eaten-”

“Shhh, just think about them,” 156 pats the drone’s head, puts her horn to its forehead, and digs deep.

She quickly learns two things - the teleportation has happened many times and 99380 has no clue how to do it. Sighing, she withdraws.

Not sure what I was expecting. It’s just a drone being… drone-y.

99380 tilts its head when it senses her disconnect.

“Wow, you high ranks work quick!” it comments.

“Keep being a good drone, little guy,” she pulls 99380 into a hug for a moment before letting it go, “I changed my mind. Feel free to keep looking for that skip thing around here.”

99380 nods with just the happiest smile, sticks the dropped whoomer back into a leg hole, absolutely normally flies back up, defies physics by simply turning upside-down, and finally resumes casually walking on the ceiling. 156 decides to perform her observation a little differently, and sits down, letting herself drift into the hive mind and meld closely with 99380, absorbing its thoughts as if they were her own. If anyone needs her, they can just poke her, both physically or mentally.

Playing Games: 4

65536 has been busy searching the hive mind and hitting some unfortunate brick walls for the hour since letting 10k and 99200 rest. As expected, changeling biology is a barely-explored topic at best, but every changeling has experience with injuries and sometimes those have to heal over time. Those experiences are what 65536 is searching for inside every willing mind it can reach with 99380’s help. Sadly, that does mean mostly only other drones.

“Someone wants to see you,” says the Voice suddenly.

“Hmm?” in the real world, 65536 opens its eyes and looks around.

10k is sleeping, clothed and curled up by the amulet-heated box. 65536 would love to offer it its spare sleeping bag, but that’s one thing it can’t afford to get damaged under any circumstances. That would make the trip back home potentially vastly more difficult. 99200 is doing the same as 10k, only inside said box due to the lack of spare clothes. 156 is sitting on a cushion by the throne, busy with something hive mind-related as well. 99380 is still glued to the ceiling, waving the whoomer around in an attempt to pinpoint the exact location of the skip.

65536 can hear hoofsteps, though, and 99111 enters the throne room, followed by several shivering drones covered in snow they haven’t managed to shake off. More and more drones start trickling into the throne room one by one.

“Heya, 65536!” 99111’s extra arm waves at it, “Umm, we have a question! Do we have to stay outside?”

“Huh?” 65536 shakes its head, “No, of course not. I just thought you’d like to experience something new. Do you not like it?”

“No- I mean yes, we do, buuut… the snow stuff started falling from the sky again, the Big Shiny is gone, and it’s gotten seriously cold,” explains 99111, “The guys digging the new vents are still working, don’t worry.”

65536 looks up and sharply calls out:

“Hey, 99380, tell the digging teams to return here immediately.”

“Done!” the physics-defying drone calls back happily before pausing and adding, “Uhhh, it’ll take some time because they’re having trouble flying out due to the snowfall.”

“Any volunteers to help pull the digging team out of the vents?” 65536 looks at the assembled crowd. With the exception of several visibly frozen drones with chunks of snow still packed in the gaps of their carapaces, everyone raises a leg. Only serious problems would stop a drone from helping another drone.

In a moment, 65536 organizes a group to go help, keeping mentally in touch with them through 99380. Everyone else forms a circle around 10k, 99200, and the heating box, even though the warmth reaches only the first row. Several minutes later, the group of drones responsible for building the chimney in the throne room returns with the next load of stone slabs and starts turning those into smaller, hewn stones according to 65536’s blueprint. Other drones quickly join them and start helping, making this load of rectangular, perfectly smooth stones ready to be stacked in less than two minutes, which gives 65536 an idea.

“Who wants to help build the chimney? We’ll have some proper heating that way,” it asks. Once again, nearly all drones raise a leg.

65536 smiles and starts giving out orders, splitting the drones into groups that would add dronepower to the digging ones and to the ones who transport the material. On top of that, it takes most of the spare heating amulets out of the box and lends them to a new group of drones with the orders not to rescue the vent diggers but to continue their work. That group will swap out after half an hour with a fresh one, giving the amulets to them, and so on. That way, the drones might be able to finish the work today despite the worsening weather.

***

By the time Chrysalis returns from whatever she’s been doing, the drones move around 65536 like clockwork, and she can easily see the hive mind directions they’re all following as glowing lines with arrows and short descriptions.

“The vents are being dug, the fireplace is almost done and –I’m a bit shocked, frankly– everyone is still alive. Two almost froze to death, though, so it can’t have been a completely wasted day,” the Queen snickers and 65536 shoots her a face scrunch which she deflects by sticking her tongue out along with a smirk.

When she lies down on the throne, 99856 enters the throne room with several green-tinted chunks of coal inside a stone box on its back instead of the usual method of being glued to a drone’s carapace or in a temporary resin container. It brings the supplies to 65536 who nods and flies up along the chimney, prodding it in various spots along the way. The original design of simply stacking hewn rocks in a square all the way to the ceiling having been abandoned shortly after starting, the outer seams of the final version a little wider than the inner ones and filled with goop, forming a brick and mortar pattern on the outside of the chimney while on the inside the rocks simply fit perfectly together. Satisfied with its structural findings, 65536 flies back down, moves the metal top from the original stove to the new one constructed at the bottom of the chimney, and puts two “coal” pieces into the fireplace.

The drones gathered around and curiously watching 65536 finally realize where this is going and instinctively back off a little.

“...let’s not overdo it on the first try. We don’t need a repeat of yesterday…” mutters 65536, transforms the surface of its hooves, grinds a part of one into the fireplace, and strikes them together.

All drones twitch.

The lightly-gooped coal carefully prepared by 99856 with the last incident in mind catches fire without exploding and, moments later, a plume of smoke starts getting vented upwards through the chimney. Once the flickering light starts making shadows dance in front of the new fireplace, drones in general start leaning closer to see what’s going on. As the fire grows stronger and the open feeding hole of the fireplace starts casting visible light, they drop all pretense and change formation from the semi-circle surrounding the fireplace to a massive huddle in front of it, mouths agape at their first sight of the flickering fire.

“Be careful, fire in general gets very hot. That means painful to touch,” 65536 warns them, recalling 99200’s first instinct to immediately poke the shiny just as some of the closest drones start reaching out with their forelegs. They stop but leave their legs outstretched no matter if they finished moving on the floor or on another drone.

“But it makes my hooves feel really nice and warm,” counters someone, “It’s like a tiny, shiny hug pile!”

“Yup, and if your carapace isn’t hard enough, too many drones lying on you will crush you,” 65536 expands the analogy.

“Hmmm,” the thinker pauses before looking at the pile of clothes that’s resting, “10k, can you think up a carapace that makes the pain part not happen? I want to hug the fire!”

To 65536’s horror but unfortunately not its surprise, multiple voices rise in agreement.

“Let 10k sleep,” it orders in a patient but louder voice.

Seeing that the new fireplace hasn’t turned the throne room into a blast zone covered in changeling chunks, Chrysalis flies down from the throne and everyone looks at her.

“Out of the way, derps! Your Queen wants to warm up,” she walks through the immediately formed corridor and sits down in front of the fireplace, stretching all four legs towards it. When the closest drones, emboldened by their previous experience of sleeping on the throne, lean against her, she only raises an eyebrow but doesn’t shoo them off.

65536 taps the drone who is pressed against the Queen’s side, saying:

“Move a bit, please. I need to ask the Queen for something.”

The drone nods and shuffles off.

Chrysalis narrows her eyes, still looking directly into the fire. 65536’s tone and stiff sitting position tell her everything she needs to know - 65536 wants to ask something it thinks she’s going to have a problem with. The drone might easily be on a basic infiltrator level of social and psychological analysis, but it’s not good at faking its own behavior. For once, that’s not criticism.

Straight as an arrow, that one.

“So?” is all she says when 65536 keeps taking its time.

“Your Majesty, I’d like to ask you for a full access to the hive mind, specifically regarding any and all information about changeling biology. I took a closer look at 10k’s condition and I think that a surgery can go a long way towards fixing it. However, while I was searching Canterlot libraries and asking the changelings I know, I had no luck finding any records of physical interactions with the body of a living changeling. Everyone just assumes we heal by shapeshifting, but 10k can’t. I asked 156 and 387 but they don’t know anything, and neither does the Voice.”

“Hmmm,” Chrysalis rubs her chin, not reacting to the mention of the Voice, “What if I say no?”

65536 taps its hoof on the floor for a while before replying:

“Even if I don’t count other drones, Mister Sharp wasn’t the only friend I lost over the years. I’m not letting trauma slowly take another one. There’s more to 10k’s wounds than physical damage, but right now that’s the only part I can help with. If you say no, I’ll operate on 10k anyway, and there will be a higher chance I will overlook something,” 65536 sighs, “If it helps. I’ll let you remove the knowledge from my head afterwards. Luna’s spell is sensitive enough.”

Chrysalis shakes her head.

On some level, I wish my high ranks were this open with me.

“I don’t think that will be necessary. Changelings used to have real doctors, that’s true, but that knowledge is irreversibly lost. I doubt whatever little I personally remember will be useful, but I’ll section off the knowledge you’re looking for and let you access it along with a couple tricks to help you process information by using the hive mind. 10k uses those regularly, and so do the two pseudoscientists to a lesser degree.”

“Thank you.”

“Anything else? Anyone?” the Queen gives 65536 a hint it previously didn’t consider.

It ponders the need for additional hooves. The surgeries it read about back home in preparation for this eventuality always had other participants.

“Maybe 99380 to help me access the hive mind,” possibilities start crossing its mind, “57999 in case we need healing goop or a second pair of steady drone hooves for cutting. Finally, 3012, maybe? I might need a strong pair of legs to hold 10k steady and I don’t see the need to take up the time of top ranks. Can I ask for more later if something else comes to mind?”

“Heh,” Chrysalis chuckles, “Welcome to the life of a top rank - endlessly rethinking every possible scenario and eventuality.”

***

The Las Pegasus express is rolling on the tracks through the forest. It’s not a huge train, consisting only of two small passenger carriages, three larger passenger carriages with sleeping quarters, a dining car, and a bar car. And a locomotive, obviously.

The smaller passenger carriages are still a spacious but simple affair - on both sides there are pairs of soft chairs facing each other over a table by a window, each pair separated by a raised wooden partition. The aisle provides enough space for the well-built earth pony steward currently pushing a cart with drinks to comfortably move through. The thud-thud of the train’s wheels is doing wonders to put the passengers at peace, specifically two passengers who haven’t moved from their seats since boarding. Unfortunately, their peace seems to be just a little unsettling for others.

“Steward?” whispers a mare sitting across the aisle from the two changelings sleeping curled up in their respective seats, pointing at 99999, “They haven’t moved since boarding. I get that changelings might skip breakfast, but they didn’t even leave to sleep in their beds. Can you check their tickets, please?”

“Miss, I saw them being seated last night. They’re the only changelings aboard. Whether or not they decide to use the train’s facilities is up to them,” replies the stallion steward.

“Could you check up on them anyway, pleeease!” she adds.

He turns to face the changelings, if only to look away from the mare and roll his eyes, and gently prods Smiley. The striped changeling mare silently looks up, blinks, looks around, and quickly reaches for the slate hanging on her neck just to touch it for comfort.

“Pardon me for waking you up,” says the steward, “The nice mare sitting across the aisle from you noticed you seem to have missed breakfast, and that you didn’t use your sleeping quarters last night. Is everything to your satisfaction so far?”

Smiley starts rummaging in her backpack, and 99999, in the other seat, sits up with a yawn.

“Hello!” it says, “We didn’t get any tickets for other cars. Ours just have these seat numbers,” it taps on the small, brass plaque on the top of the seat, “The Queen said we shouldn’t use more shinies than we need, so we just have one spot for each of us.”

“Ah, I see,” the steward nods and waves his hoof dismissively at Smiley who pulls out her ticket, finally recalling it’s inside a leg hole and not in the backpack, “No need, Miss. This is your first time taking the express, I assume?”

“Nope!” 99999 shakes its head, “The third! We went from Dodge-something to Appleplace and from there to Ponytown.”

The steward glances at Smiley who has written: [Yes]

“I meant the Las Pegasus express in particular,” he nods at her, “Things work differently here.”

“Oh,” 99999 deflates, “Did we do something wrong?”

“No no no,” the steward smiles and shakes his head, “I just want to clarify that your tickets give you access to these seats and also to the beds with the same number in the sleeping carriage. Not just that, but there are three meals a day included in the ticket price, which brings us to the missed breakfast. Of course, I don’t know how it works for changelings so this might be a moot point. Finally, you have access to the bar carriage where, in the evening, there will be a music band playing as well as other activities.”

“Gasp!” exclaims 99999 after processing the information, “We can get noms without trading shinies?!”

Smiley aims her tablet at the steward: [Free food?]

“It is already included in the price of your ticket,” repeats the steward, “That means yes,” he adds when both changelings keep staring at him with hesitation.

“Where’s the breakfast food place, Mister pony?” 99999 stands up in its seat eagerly, eyes sparkling.

“I’m on my way back there with the trolley,” the steward taps the metal construction he’s pushing, “Feel free to come with me.”

99999 looks at Smiley who replies with:

[Explore]

Both changelings take their backpacks and follow the steward to the exit of the carriage where 99999 stops and says:

“Wait!”

As the steward and Smiley stop, 99999 dashes back through the carriage towards the mare who originally complained, and hugs her to her absolute shock and visible disgust.

“YOU’RE THE BEST, PONY LADY!”

With that, 99999 runs back accompanied by snickering of several other passengers as well as the steward.

After passing through the sleep carriage and the first class suite carriages, the steward finally leads them to the dining car with only a few late passengers still eating. The staff are slowly cleaning up, and the steward says:

“Well, here we are. You can order a breakfast plate by that glass pane there.”

“Thank you!” 99999 beams and Smiley smiles.

[Thank you]

“If you’re unsure about anything else, feel free to ask the staff. That’s why we’re here,” the pony nods and heads off to put the trolley away.

The two changelings walk over to the glass partition with the serving pony, but before they order, 99999 stops, its ears twitching.

“Smiley, I can hear music from the next car! They got tunes and noms here! WHAT DO WE DO FIRST?!” the drone’s eyes keep darting from the food to the door to the next car.

Smiley, being the voice of reason and moderation, decides:

[Start here]

Author's Note

Events are slowly chugging along. Plot isn't, but since when have stories needed plot to not be a waste of time, right?

Sharing truths: 1

Due to yesterday’s drone-freezing incidents and the subsequent early return to the hive, extra work was done, leaving today’s worky time partially free for more activities organized by 65536, this time hopefully with less hypothermia. With the exception of several drones specifically requested by 65536 to stay in the hive, most drones find themselves once again on the open white plain, now a bit more used to the freezing cold.

“THE SLOPE GOT LARGER ON ITS OWN!” someone calls out in amazement.

“AND THE WHITE-COLD WE DUG OUT RESET ON ITS OWN TOO!” another drone joins in.

One drone charges towards the slope and, after a couple steps, sinks into the snow up to its barrel.

“Eeep! I’m stuck!”

“You have wings,” 65536 reminds it with a twitch of the corner of its mouth.

“Oh, right,” the drone floats up and starts flying around, poking the ground to find a more solid surface.

65536 tests the snow around the hive entrance to see if there’s a solid path left stomped down from yesterday, quickly finds it, and leads the line of drones following in its hoofsteps to the skiing slope.

“Yesterday, we built that and did some skiing,” it opens, pointing at the slope, “Today, however, I have something different in mind for you. If I’m counting right, there are ninety-two of you, right?”

“Yes,” 2119, following the group on 65536’s request and the Queen’s permission, nods while the drones start looking around and counting on their hooves, “Not counting you or me.”

“Good,” 65536 nods, “Split into two teams-” as the wave of decision paralysis from the drones immediately washes over it, it corrects itself, “Nevermind, I’ll pick numbers at random. Team red, team blue.”

All drones receive their team designation shortly after and split into two large huddles. 65536 continues:

“We’re going to play snowball war! I need two volunteers from each team.”

99111 and 99856 volunteer immediately despite being on opposing teams, walking over to 65536. Two more drones join them, emboldened by the act. 65536 transforms its front hooves into claws, sweeps some snow towards itself, and packs it into a snowball.

“Now you do it,” it nods to the volunteers, before looking over them at the others and correcting itself, “Well, everyone should try it, really. The goal is to make a snowball and throw it at a member of the opposing team. If you hit them, they’re out of the game. If all members are out, the team loses.”

99111’s extra limb starts waving at 65536.

“Uhh, yes?” the guard drone finds itself a bit uncertain about what’s going on, but its guess that 99111 just wants to ask something and is doing this instead of raising a foreleg proves correct.

“What do the ‘out’ guys do? If they just watch, they'll get cold quickly,” 99111 raises a good point.

“Yup, that’s why they’ll still be allowed to build cover - dig trenches, make walls, anything to help the rest of the team ‘survive’. Let’s make it easy to understand - 99111’s team turns their carapaces red and 99856’s blue. Whoever gets eliminated –I mean, is out of the game– turns black again to show they can’t attack you and you shouldn’t attack them. Don’t use black guys as cover!”

99111 tosses its ball at 99856, hitting it in the neck.

“Lead for the read team!” its back limb points at the chemist.

“Heeey!” 99856 frowns at it.

“We haven’t started yet,” 65536 shakes its head, “It doesn’t count.”

“Pfbfbfbf!” 99856 sticks its tongue at 99111 and throws its own ball. Its experience with precision throwing of explosives into specific places of a room shows, and it hits 99111 square in the face, “Ha, headbonk!”

Several more snowballs get thrown between the large groups behind the volunteers.

“Glad you’re picking it up quickly,” 65536 says loudly for everyone to hear, “Two safety tips before start. Number one - make sure you’re not throwing rocks. You could seriously hurt someone if you hit an eye, and those are extremely difficult to heal even for high ranks. Number two - if you hold the ball and keep tamping it, you’ll make a harder ice ball that flies further. Be a little more careful with those too. Got it?”

Mass nodding ensues, coupled with ice ball making. An exchange of fire follows, but 65536 breathes in relief when all hard balls hit from the neck down.

“We’ll do one practice match while I oversee you, and then I’ll have to leave,” says 65536, “After that, 2119 will be chaperon- keeping an eye on you and making sure you’re not cheat- he’ll resolve disputable hits,” it corrects itself, knowing drones won’t cheat but can get confused easily, ” Afterwards, you’ll play three matches and whichever team wins two of them will get noms this breaky time. I’ll leave 2119 some ideas for more activities for later, but you’ll see how you’ll feel after the four games and go from there.”

Snowballs start flying between the groups in the back immediately.

“That still doesn’t count,” comments 65536.

“Just practicing!” a random drone calls back, “We gotta w- blrgh!” a volley of snowballs explodes over its body, originating not entirely from the enemy team, “That one went in my throat…”

“Before each game, you’ll have five minutes to make any kind of cover you can think of. Trenches and neck-high walls are only basic suggestions. Let’s start the first preparation round now!”

The drones freeze for a moment, but when the first ones move to start building random obstacles, everyone joins.

65536 looks at 2119 now wearing both the gifted cap and the scarf.

“I’ve written down the rules for the next games into the hive mind section pp-O4-se22. This is ‘elimination mode’, next one will be ‘point mode’, and the final one will be ‘capture the flag’. Of course, don’t force them to play if they don’t want to. The point is for them to have fun and enjoy anything they want to do up here.”

“Got it,” the infiltrator nods, “You won’t be joining in, even for the first game?”

“Nah,” 65536 nods, “It would unbalance the teams too hard, and I’ll need my hooves as steady as possible for 10k’s surgery, not frozen from making snowballs.”

“Good luck with that.”

“I’ll be doing the easy part,” 65536 sighs, “I wouldn’t want to be in 10k’s carapace for this.”

“If there’s someone who can do this, it’s you, Ambassador.”

“I can only hope,” 65536 allows itself a nervous smile before its head snaps towards the other drones, “Hey, 99200, come over here! I almost forgot you,” when the explorer drone hops over, 65536 pulls a heating talisman off of its neck and gives it to 99200, “Don’t lose it.”

“I won’t,” 99200 shakes its head, “I want to test something later and if I lost it then I couldn’t do it.”

“Wanna tell me what it’s about?”

“Nope!”

“Pff,” 65536 rolls its eyes with a smile, “I won’t show you how to make boots out of spider webs then-”

*WIBBLE?!*

“I’lltellyouifitworksIswear!” 99200 blurts out.

65536 pats the other drone’s head, accompanied by 2119’s snickering, and points towards the other drones digging random holes and building snow walls.

“I’ll be waiting. Now, don’t you have some cover to build?”

***

65536 is gone, 2119 is watching the chaos of drones fighting for extra noms, and things are going somewhat according to plan.

Key word - somewhat.

The drones have adopted Scufflestick rules and shooting into melee combat now only serves as a distraction instead of an eliminating factor. Thankfully, they also keep sticking to the no contact rule, although that one’s a little bent as well.

2119 is unsure whether to stop the current level of escalated aggression. On the other hole… it’s funny.

99436 is currently balancing on its hind legs with the use of its wings, swinging a soft goop ‘sword’ held in each foreleg in the vague direction of its enemy 99911 who has a large goop stick, or more a pool noodle. The rescue team member waits patiently until 99436 flails a bit too wildly and falls over on its butt, upon which it pounces and smacks 99436 over the head.

“Hah! Dual slashies, meet singular bonk!” 99911 laughs victoriously, “HEY!” and immediately yelps indignantly when a snowball hits it in the back.

“Not in melee anymore!” calls out the attacking party.

“Grumble grumble gonna find you and bonk you next game,” 99911 huffs, transforming its chitin color from blue to black and rushing over to a crew preparing showballs so that the “surviving” members can just keep throwing.

***

One of many now unused caves on the upper floors of the hive left over after mining operations hosts several changelings and some equipment unusual to see in the hive. In the center of the small cave lies a stone slab the size of a drone on which 10k is lying, awake and watching 65536’s final preparations for the first changeling surgery in presumably centuries. 3012, bereft of any gifted clothes despite the cave being very cold this close to the surface, is sitting by 10k’s head, observing as well and waiting for 65536’s instructions. The warrior is unsure what this is all about, but he’s here directly on the Queen’s orders and said orders are - 65536 is in charge, you do exactly what it says. Aside from the patient, the amateur surgeon, and the strong helping hoof, two other drones are present. 99380 is lying by the back wall, its body pretty much just stored away in a safe place while its presence is entirely within the hive mind, providing vastly improved access to information to the others. Finally, 57999 is sitting next to a covered stone bucket filled with steaming, somewhat green, water and a small, stone slab serving as a table for two clean towels from 65536’s travelling stash as well as a still foaming brick of 99111’s cleaning goop. The area is far from sterile, but the changelings have done their best and the hope now is that the drone immune system will be strong enough to deal with any side effects of the operation.

65536 takes a deep breath to stop its hooves from shaking.

You did this yesterday. 10k’s neck hasn’t gotten much worse since, and only around the rim where the healthy carapace meets the rest of the body. It’s a proof of concept that your idea works.

“The Queen provided a variety of information regarding surgeries in general,” says the Voice, the final member of the team, “Unfortunately, while infiltrators posing as surgeons exist, they only operate on ponies. The good part is that changelings shouldn’t be subject to a number of complications that are normally lethal to ponies. As for the mental assistance she promised, I will be adapting the hive mind overlay based on reading your hive link since you don’t know how to use it yourself. Don’t worry about Princess Luna’s protective spell, I’m reading only your current thoughts and also only those limited to this operation. I’ll start now so you can get used to it.”

65536 gasps when its field of view lights up with an equivalent of a holographic HUD of bright lines denoting hive mind references, identities of all present changelings and, most importantly, the highlights of all visible cracks on 10k’s carapace along with arrows showing how 65536 should cut them to peel the ruined carapace off.

This is incredible… I’ve never used this before aside from the map and work markers.

“Thank you. This is how high ranks see the world at all times, or at least 99, since she’s the only one I could access before being asked not to,” replies the Voice, “The cutting pattern is the best I could think of based on yesterday’s attempt, but it’s only a guideline. If you figure out a better way, or if your requirements change, I will adjust it as you work.”

“3012,” says 65536 out loud, “I need 10k to be awake during the operation, but it might be too difficult to remain motionless, so you’re here to hold it steady if needed. However, you can’t use much pressure or the carapace we’re trying to fix will break. Got it?”

“Understood,” the warrior nods, “Do I use my own judgement or do I wait for you to tell me to hold 10k down?”

“Both. I might be focusing on something else so you need to keep an eye on 10k as well,” says 65536, turning the hoof of its right foreleg into claws and growing one of those into a sharp scalpel. While the digging power of a drone doesn’t rely on physical sharpness, the precision of a narrow edge will undoubtedly be useful, “Finally, 57999, you’re here more as a safeguard, but I’d also like you to use your healing goop on the parts of 10k’s carapace that it manages to regrow successfully. Aside from that, before 10k regrows each section you have to clean its squishy bits with a wet towel and a very small amount of bubble brick. I’ll tell you when and Voice will show you precisely where.”

“Got it!” 57999 nods eagerly and its vision lights up with the same overlay that 65536 is seeing, “Whoa, all these fake shinies! I usually only use little scribbles to remember all the plant stuff since I’m so far away from the others most of the time.”

“And what do I do?” 10k chuckles.

“You’re patienting, so you keep lying down unless I say otherwise,” 65536 looks around one final time and takes a deep breath, “Alright, guys, let’s do this. 10k, you’re not going to like me after this.”

“Buddy, no matter how this ends, you’re getting a statue back in our cavern next. I’m thinking of the ‘ambassador’ title, but feel free to pick one you’d like more,” 10k smirks, although its eyes betray a modicum of fear brought on by the memory of the pain yesterday.

“Let’s see if we can make that title ‘surgeon’,” 65536 leans over 10k’s neck, examines the border of the carapace partially healed from yesterday, stretches its claw, and digs.

Author's Note

I haven'T been able to write more than a couple lines for weeks. Buffer is growing thinner. Usually I started working on some side project, but now I just sit, blankly stare, and drool with an empty page in front of me. And even the few lines I write feel empty. Oh well, let's keep squeezing and grinding until there's nothing interesting or original left.

Sharing truths: 2

2119 got bored by watching the snowball war rather quickly, realizing that tactical maneuvers, subterfuge, and other combat aspects an infiltrator would appreciate definitely aren’t drone forte. That didn’t mean the drones weren’t improving in game two –especially when they decided to do ‘elimination’ again instead of the suggested point battle so that some could get to building fortifications again– it just meant that in order for the game to be interesting for 2119, they would need to be playing this for years and strategizing beforehoof. To amuse himself, he decided to even out game two a little bit when it started to tilt in the direction of the red team that won game one as well.

“99651 isn’t covering its right side at all,” 2119’s disguised voice whispers in 99760’s head. The drone catches on and, in a few wild strikes of its goop noodle, it wins its melee and quickly ducks when 99651 turns black. Several snowballs fly over its head immediately.

2119 smirks. Some innocent puppeteering can’t hurt, especially if it leads to game three. Plus it helps kill time.

By now, only a couple drones remain in “active service”, and they’re having problems hitting targets hidden behind layers of walls, trenches, and de-colored drones constantly building more and seemingly having even more fun doing so. The solution is obvious, and most of the remaining drones understandably opt for melee combat using various soft goop implements.

“99015 just blindly throws balls from behind its barricade,” rings inside 99118’s mind after 2119 assesses the battlefield, “You can just run through the walls with a little bit of digging.”

99118’s pauses, briefly processing the new idea crossing its mind, before grinning and slamming directly through its barricade in a shower of snow. In response, 99015’s foreleg lobs a couple of snowballs in the vague direction of the barricade, but before it can even throw the last of its supply, 99118’s crashes through the middle of 99015’s snow wall.

“Boop!” 99118 pokes the opponent with a goop noodle.

“EEP!” 99015 turns black while bouncing away on reflex. When it lands, it looks at its now dark hooves with, “Awww yiss, building time!”

It rushes off, beaming, towards a group of drones making holes in the old skiing slope for reasons which 2119 hasn’t bothered to find out yet.

With 2119’s anonymous help, the blue team’s advantage gradually grows until the red resistance breaks and the second game ends.

“Game over! Score is now tied at one-one,” the infiltrator mentally calls out so that everyone hears, no matter how deep in the snow they are, “Let’s have a five-minute break before the final game. Is everyone okay? No one’s hypothermic?”

He doesn’t really need to ask, but he confirms the chorus of okay responses via the status of each hive link. As expected, they’re cold but the constant activity is doing wonders to keep the drones from freezing. In response to his call, the drones start returning from their business and gathering around in preparation.

“What’s hypertermite?” one hesitant drone raises its foreleg.

“A big bug,” replies 2119, unfazed.

“Ah. Nope then, we’re all small bugs here,” the drone shakes its head, satisfied.

“Excellent,” 2119 nods approvingly and the drone shoots him a relieved smile, “If you like building so much, let’s change it up a bit for the last game and play ‘capture the flag’. Regroup, recolor, plan out your tactics, and let’s see who wins extra presents… or whatever 65536 promised.”

The infiltrator links up with the drones and transmits the rules of the game to them, watching their eyes light up with joy as they realize how much building will be involved. That should keep them busy for the rest of the day.

***

10k croaks in pain and tears shoot out of its eyes.

At first, the operation felt like yesterday’s attempt, painful but bearable. Eventually though, as 65536 kept going, the pain somehow started compounding and 10k’s body started moving involuntarily away from the “surgical claw”. Right now, the carapace on 10k’s head and neck is entirely peeled off, leaving behind a green membrane and a layer of healing goop from 57999

“Sorry,” 10k apologizes as 3012 tightens his grip on the drone’s still armored shoulders, retaining surprising gentleness. The dramatic difference in physical strength between a warrior and a drone lets him be careful when he’s pressing against the 10k’s carapace while still successfully restraining it.

“You’re doing great, 10k,” 65536 gives the drone leader a soft, reassuring smile, while peeling off another square of 10k’s carapace, layer after semi-shattered layer, until it reaches the bottom fragments which it has to cut off from the green membrane serving serving as changeling “skin”.

“You are the one doing great,” 10k retorts, licking off some blood from the corner of its mouth left over after grinding its teeth, “I’m just lying here and trying not to pass out in pain.”

“That’s the difficult part,” 65536 nods sideways and 57999 grabs a small chunk of 99111’s soap goop and cleans the new wound while 10k hisses as the coagulated blood from the ruptured membrane gets washed away, leaving behind mild stinging. 57999 applies its goop next, covering the surface in the healing gel. Like since the start of the surgery, it takes all of 10k’s self-control not to immediately regrow the carapace around the area, “If you want to take your mind off of things, you did offer me a full story about Smiley,” says 65536 once 57999 is finished.

57999’s and 99380’s ears perk up.

“If 387 told you all he knew, there’s only a little more,” 10k’s ragged breathing and voice raspy from its previous screaming that eventually turned into weak croaking make it difficult to understand, but it’s speaking slowly and there’s no other sound in the small cave, “I… I…” 10k pauses, “65536, can someone do the right thing but in such a… wrong way that… that it feels like it’s not the right thing at all?”

“That’s far from rare, buddy,” 65536 nods, “Brace yourself, I’m cutting again.”

“HNNNNGH!”10k’s vision lights with sparks and it keeps focusing on its breathing, quick that it is, to remain in the real world, “You know, I’m glad to hear that,” it says after a moment while 65536 and 57999 clean the new wound, “And that… kinda sums it up.”

“I’m gonna need some details here. 387 just said that when you learned that Smiley caused 47989’s death, you… screamed some pretty unpleasant things at her and later asked the Queen to send her away with 99999.”

“Smiley didn’t get 47989 killed,” admits 10k quietly, “It’s true that when I first heard about it I thought Smiley did something stupid to cause the tunnel collapse like… like with High Score and 36658, but then I saw her memories.”

“Whoa, wait, how?” 65536 pauses before the next cut.

“You can read Smiley’s mind?” 99380 who has been physically silent so far joins in, audibly surprised, “I didn’t think even the Queen could do that.”

“Smiley can show you something she wants to. I don’t know how difficult it is for her to do or what her limits are, but she can do it,” says 10k and starts with a brief summary for 65536, “She and 47989 were reinforcing the tunnels leading to the area of the Queen’s project, but that place is full of Rumblers. We- I thought the new tunnel-building techniques would be enough to survive them but I was wrong. Due to the carapace enhancements I designed, we were able to move around without alerting them, but whenever someone dug into any pocket of open space and caused a landfall there was a risk of a Rumbler crawling in to check. We lost… too many drones in a short span of time, and after 47989’s death the Queen finally decided to stop all operations in that area.”

“Makes me wonder which mining area could be so important that the Queen would take an interest personally,” muses 65536.

“It’s the Crusher,” says 10k after a brief pause. 99380 looks blankly at 65536 and 57999 as the two veterans gasp.

“You don’t think-”

“No,” 10k weakly moves its head from side to side, “I don’t think we’re returning to the time of public executions. Why the Queen would need the Crusher is beyond me, though, but she did until we lost 47989. Then she agreed it was too dangerous to continue and let it go.”

“Huh…” is all 57999 says as it scratches its head. 65536 has to silently agree. The hive leadership they know would never just leave a critical operation. Maybe, maybe they would reconsider their approach but drones have always been part of the cost of business. While 65536 knows the Queen is different now and the top ranks care, it has dipped its hooves into politics enough to know that goodwill only goes so far. However, both it and 57999 trust 10k’s judgement because it’s the closest to the hive’s leadership.

“That’s good to hear,” says 65536 diplomatically and raises its claws to keep operating, ”I hope this was enough for you to catch your breath, buddy. Let’s keep going because I doubt it’s a good idea to keep you peeled for too long.”

10k winces and 65536 starts cutting again.

This time they manage to strip 10k’s entire chest before 99380 walks over, taps 65536’s shoulder, and shakes its head. 10k is crying and wheezing, but they all know by now the drone leader will pass out before it asks them to stop. 65536 nods back and starts cleaning 10k from its head after which 57999 reapplies the healing goop.

“Buddy?” 65536 asks quietly while gently prodding the frog of 10k’s foreleg. The raggedly breathing drone looks back at it with terror and pain in its eyes.

“How long- are we… done…?” 10k croaks quietly, “No…”

“I’m sorry, it’s just a break. We’re only about a third way done and we can’t stop until we’re finished,” 65536 attempts a comforting smile, but 10k’s agony is just too much and the trembling drone leader whimpers.

While 10k’s instincts and body are failing in the face of the pain, it proves its will by attempting to take a controlled breath and saying:

“Keep going… just hold me down.”

“We can give you a moment to rest, so we will,” counters 65536, “I told you I needed you awake for this.”

“I wish you didn’t,” 10k forces a smirk, “I suppose I can keep talking about Smiley.”

“Please, do.”

“99380, just so that you don’t need to pull the knowledge out of the head of someone I sent down there - Rumblers make an area unstable. As they pass, they crush solid rock into smaller pieces, and 47989 was digging through a previously ground-up section while Smiley was reinforcing the tunnel behind it. 47989 made a mistake and went too quickly, collapsing the ceiling on itself. The pocket of rocks wasn’t heavy enough to crush a drone, so it didn’t need to activate the emergency cocoon, but it got stuck. Smiley did everything right, remembering to finish at least a quick tunnel reinforcement instead of rushing to 47989 and risking further collapse while 47989 was carefully digging itself out. Unfortunately, the collapse alerted a Rumbler,” 10k sighs, 57999 looks down at the floor, and 65536 frowns. They know where this goes, “Smiley tried to dig 47989 out faster but had to escape as the Rumbler’s approach started breaking the entire tunnel despite the quick patchwork. 47989 told her to run and popped the cocoon. From the last hive link information we got from all the devoured drones, it does nothing against Rumblers other than letting the caught drones hibernate and die painlessly,” 10k goes silent.

“Then why did you blame Smiley?” asks 65536 as everyone else listens intently. It does notice that 10k’s eyes dart to 3012.

“I told you,” 10k breathes out slowly, “At first it reminded me of High Score and 36658. I only learned what really happened several worky times later after Smiley managed to share her memories with me. By that time, we discovered 99999’s unique ability which I reported to the top ranks because the Queen is making a list of discovered goop variants and specialities for every drone.”

“99999?” asks 65536, “I haven’t sensed a drone by that rank yet.”

“It hatched recently. The Queen sent it away to repay a debt and I’m not allowed to tell you what that’s about, 65536, but it’ll be safe and in good company. That gave me an idea, and I offered to send Smiley to escort 99999. The reasoning I gave was that she had some outside knowledge and she was getting much better at writing… and that I didn’t want her to put other drones at risk by panicking and doing something stupid. 387 and the Queen trusted me enough not to read my mind about it… and I lied to them,” it looks at 3012.

“Keep going,” says the warrior flatly.

“I told Smiley I didn’t want her here anymore. I blamed her in her face for 47989’s death. I lied to her in that regard too,” 10k pauses again, “I had to. I didn’t want her to want to come back.”

“But why?” asks 65536.

“I wanted her to be safe,” admits 10k, “She’s a veteran like us and she’s been through a lot, but she still is… Smiley. I… I wanted her to be like you, 65536, not like us. She doesn’t have to keep digging down here until she makes a serious mistake once. We all know how easily that can happen. I repeat, I knew 99999 would be safe and cared for, and the Queen agreed to let Smiley go as well, for good if Smiley decides to stay where they’re going.”

Everyone stays silent for a while until 65536 raises its claws.

“Ready?” is all it asks.

“No, but do it,” replies 10k.

This time they manage to peel both forelegs, a slightly less painful experience than working on the barrel, before 65536 deems 10k too exhausted to remain awake.

“I was thinking about what you said,” says 65536, “And I hate that you hurt Smiley like that. The Queen will doubtlessly learn that you lied as well-”

“I will tell her myself,” says 10k firmly, “If this ‘surgery’ thing doesn’t help, I think I’ll do it sooner rather than later.”

“3012, can you not report this until 10k decides to do it itself?” asks 65536 carefully.

“I can, but if a higher rank reads my mind that’s it,” says the warrior.

“10k…” 65536 takes a quick break to formulate what it wants to say in its head, “What you did was very-”

“Bad? Yeah, I know.”

“-very High Score-y of you.”

“What?! High Score would never-” 10k objects with a surprising burst of vigor despite its state.

“Lie to a high rank in order to give a vulnerable drone hope for a better life?” 65536 smirks, completely shutting down 10k’s reply and leaving the drone leader silently opening and closing its mouth.

“I’m not High Score, 65536,” 10k eventually recovers, its tone stern.

The corner of the Nightguard drone’s mouth twitches and it raises its glowing claw again.

***

In preparation for the final match for all the extra noms, the drone teams built two bases from scratch, each team taking a drastically different approach. One team occupied the skiing slope and drilled it full of holes, turning it into a small version of the hive. The claustrophobic, labyrinthine insides hold nooks and crannies which, if drones had any tactical mindset, could prove to be excellent ambush spots against the enemy team trying to take their flag- uhh, their goop stick with a ball on top. In reality, however, those are remnants left behind by drones who got a bit too carried away by preparing the base, although they can still serve as confusing dead ends for the enemy team trying to find the location of the fl- stick. Team two took the underground approach, and their part of the battlefield is marked by several entrances scattered around the plain otherwise bereft of anything except barricades and trenches built as cover for the previous games. As per the rules, each team has hive mind access only to the map of their own base as well as the locations of their team members, meaning that drones have to gradually explore enemy territory on their own and adapt on the fly.

2119 watches the near-empty battlefield. Out of the roughly hundred drones participating in the final game of capture the flag, only about twenty are visible with a naked eye. The red team members are watching from the skiing slope, snowballs ready, while the blue team members on the surface are hiding behind cover with much less ammo. To the infiltrator, it’s clear that someone on the blue team actually thought about strategy a little, and is using the surface only to spot enemy attack parties sent to take their stick. Unlike the drones, 2119’s hive mind overlay shows everyone even if they’re underground, and he can see that the blue team is digging tunnels leading towards the skiing slope, about to break into the red base from underneath. What the blue team clearly doesn’t know is that the reds are redy- I mean ready all over the maze to quickly answer the enemy invasion no matter the angle.

Despite the practical use of the bases, drones clearly have some innate artistic streak, and the blue team’s entrances aren’t just holes, but arches decorated with pillars. Same applies to the red base where the outer holes of the skiing slope are windows with frames, and the main entrance has two snowponies seemingly guarding it, one standing by each side and both suspiciously resembling the statues of High Score and 36658 down in the main cavern.

Even to the practical infiltrator, it feels like a bit of a waste to have all that be destroyed during the final game, but snow is temporary anyway so 2119 doesn’t regret much when he mentally announces:

“Prep time’s up, everyone! The final game starts now, and the first team to score three flags wins.”

Sharing truths: 3

A drone is standing inside a snow tunnel, muscles tense and breathing as quietly as it can. It’s staring at a tunnel wall, goop stick ready to poke, because it can hear scratching from behind it as if another drone is about to dig through.

I’m sitting here in the cold. My hooves are shaking, but I can’t let go of my pokey stick. The blues mustn’t get our flag stick or everything we’ve been fighting for will be for nothing. I’ve been on the front lines. I’ve seen my buddy peek out of cover and have its head sniped in an instant. I’ve hidden behind cover, legs tucked to my body as white clouds of projectiles rained around me. After I got blasted and removed from combat duty, I was on the back lines, bringing supplies and building fortifications. I saw a team of my buddies obliterated by snowballs from all sides as they got ambushed in a killbox. I want to go home, to be in my little cubby hole, to dig and carry eggs again. The only thing keeping me here is hope…

…the hope that we’ll get the mysterious noms.

The tunnel wall breaks from the other side, and the drone immediately pokes its goop stick through in an attempt to catch the digger off guard.

It hits empty air, and the drone looks into the eyes of the enemy between whose legs it stuck its weapon, missing entirely.

The blue drone was ready for the whole thing. It smirks, spits out the snowball held in its mouth into its foreleg, and lobs it at the red team defender’s head.

“Oh goop…” the red drone moans, frowns, and turns black, “Back to spawn it is.”

“Gooh amphush, doh,” the blue drone comments in appreciation before poking its mouth numb from holding the snowball for too long, “Mahbe nechst tahm.”

“Thanks,” the ex-red smiles back, “Just give me a moment to get out of the way so you can keep playing. The tunnel is too small for both of us.”

“Shuh,” blue nods.

Red rushes back to the base through the tunnel, but in its quick retreat it misjudges the height and raises itself too much, breaking off a goopy part of the ceiling critical for structural integrity. The tunnel section collapses on the red drone immediately. The blue guy backs off to the safety of the tunnel it dug.

“Ummm, I’m a bit stuck here,” the red drone breaks the rules and connects to the hive link of its blue nemesis, “Do I pop a cocoon or wait for my guys to help? It’s kinda hard to breathe.”

“Nah,” replies the blue drone, “10k wouldn’t be happy if we wasted a cocoon for a game. I heard they’re pretty difficult to make. Give me a moment and I’ll dig you out.”

“Okay! Do you want something in return? At least something game-related.”

“Nope! The game is supposed to be fair, so no favors,” blue shakes its head as its digging reveals a pair of black legs sticking out of the snow wall, “Almost got you.”

Some more digging later, the blue drone pulls out the poor victim out of the snowslide where it starts gasping for breath.

“Phew!” it says out loud, suddenly shaking, “Whoa, I f-feel r-r-really c-cold now…”

“Lesh geh yoo out of he’e, buddy,” says blue and leads the way back to the home base.

***

99 opens her eyes and realizes she’s lying on the floor of an abandoned tunnel near the surface level of the hive.

How long was I out?

A quick check of the hive mind reveals that it’s late afternoon. She can sense the Queen back in the throne room, 156 is with her, and 387 is gone. The drones are still on the surface, her hive link reaching them only via the Queen bridging the distance to 2119. The same goes for the several ranked changelings scattered all over the tunnels, although some are out of direct reach of the Queen, and accessible only by linking through others on the way.

“Oof,” 99 stands up, her joints cracking. Almost a whole day spent on a cold floor, especially in a position into which she must have folded by accident, and not moving can’t be healthy even for a changeling.

Sixteen hours and I haven’t found ANYTHING regarding 745 other than that she’s running late. I checked every drone one by one, and none of them remembers meeting anyone of that rank. Of course, the top ranks can easily be hiding the information from me. Was I wrong in assuming 415 referring to a high rank being killed by a drone was about 745? No high ranks I was able to scan had any information either.

99 sighs and starts slowly walking to get her blood flowing again.

And Chrysalis’ daughter is an even greater unknown. The best I could get was from 156 whose mind reacted as if she knew about the topic, but I couldn’t push her without being immediately discovered intruding in her head. Or maybe she noticed anyway despite what little 387 could teach me about hiding my presence-

“99!” Chrysalis’s voice rings through 99’s head, evoking a sudden falling feeling in her stomach that shoots down to her hooves.

“Y-Yes, Your Majesty?” replies 99, failing to steady her voice.

“Get up here and make some tea. I can feel that you could use something warm,” says Chrysalis without any hint of anything suspicious that 99 could detect in her voice, “I’m going to stretch my legs and check up on the drones personally. Yesterday they lasted outside only a couple hours and today they’ve been there since early morning.”

“On my way, Your Majesty,” 99 jumps up and down a couple times, still trying to warm up.

As she ascends through the hive again, she resumes pondering how to proceed, periodically huffing to relieve her frustration.

I’m in a situation where some tactical thinking could finally be useful. This isn’t a game for once.

And of course I’m drawing blanks. Great job, head…

***

Chrysalis steps out of the hive, closes her eyes, and takes a long, deep breath. The cold air bites the inside of her nose but she doesn’t let it show in the slightest despite no one looking. Her only response to the frost is a quick burst of green fire all over which leaves the normally tall and slim Queen just a tiny bit bulkier, betraying that some layer of heat insulation has just been added to her carapace.

I need to do this more often, especially in winter.

There’s something about the almost silent outside that does wonders to help her concentrate. She lets her senses spread, touching the drones in the distance as well as their chaperone without being sensed in return. The drone games are over and, despite the stakes, no side is unhappy or holding a grudge. Chrysalis doesn’t dig deeper and leaves some harmless unknowns for until she talks to 2119.

65536’s surgery seems to be nearing its end and, despite the general sense of optimism she gets from the guard drone, a brief glimpse into 10k’s mind makes even her stomach revolve. The drone leader is exhausted both physically and mentally, and so is 65536 out of sheer focus on a task for so long. 57999 is going to need extra love as well as some of the herbs in the greenhouse because its goop reserves are dry, and 99380 is suffering a migraine because gathering all parts of its mind and filtering out all the influences not useful for the current task is taxing.

With the weather calm since morning, most of the ranked changelings are out on short-range missions again - gathering love in settlements around the Badlands. Those don’t yield much, but they slow general love depletion down enough for the big ticket missions further away in the cities, towns, and trade hubs to feed the hive.

Chrysalis catches herself slipping back into a “work” mindset and shakes her head.

Now’s the time for a different kind of headache.

All her quick checks take less than a second. When she opens her eyes again and looks in the direction of the drone links, she facehoofs, tossing snow over herself. Without shaking it off, she starts walking regally towards a gigantic pile of snow covered in holes, which is clearly an imitation of the surface section of the hive.

Nevermind, they built some tunnels too… which should be the least surprising part, really. Good thing 838 isn’t here to see it, his head would explode.

Chrysalis snickers to herself.

“...oh noooo, we can’t control them and now they have their own hive. Nooo…” she mumbles in a mocking tone.

To be fair, I freaked out too, but I had full information about current drone “technology” and I survived too many uprisings and wars to remember without the hive mind history.

As she approaches the entrance to the snow hive, she notices the familiar statues of 36658 and 9999 guarding the hole as well as the generally decorated feel of the holes above the main floor.

Since grandma brought us here, we’ve never bothered with decorations, art, or anything non-essential. Why would we? After all, everyone hated us and any signs of recent changeling presence could only bring us doom.

She glances back at the real hive.

It’s a hole by design. From the outside, no one can guess whether it’s inhabited or not, and if someone without a map goes inside then changelings might be fairly low on their list of problems. No easy to access sources of food and water, an entirely random and confusing layout, and creatures that would love to eat something without a tough carapace.

Maybe… one day… it’ll be different. However, despite what everyone including 387 seems to think, we’re not there yet.

Chrysalis looks the snow statue of 9999, which is- which to a lesser developed ruler would be insultingly close toher own size, in the eyes.

Neither 36658 nor 10000 could gauge the aftershocks of what the few weeks of your life really meant. You and 65536. You gave us a chance to bridge centuries of hatred, and 65536 gave it to them. One insignificant butterfly flaps its wings and causes a hurricane or something. As for 36658, we’ll see what your and 10000’s island gambit will lead to in due time.

“YEOWCH OW OW OW OW!” a yelp of pain comes from above and makes Chrysalis look up just in time to see a drone hoof-sized glob of resin fly through the snow wall accompanied by audible sizzling and barely miss her.

The Queen raises an eyebrow, watching the glowing green glob sink into a hole that’s rapidly melting through the snow sheet.

That’s not the sound of acid, and the mist in the air left behind is just… steam?

Curiosity winning, she thoughtlessly reaches down to grab the seemingly hot chunk.Wincing when she touches the goop wet from the melted snow around it, she immediately changes the carapace on her foreleg to resist heat. Once she picks it up she notices a strange carving on one side of the object that has no meaning to her so she leans closer to examine it.

The resin chunk bursts into flames, singing her mane and quickly evaporating into nothing but mist.

“WHO THREW THAT?!” Chrysalis screams, eye suddenly twitching and strands of her mane on her forehead still smoldering and giving her a halo of pure fury, fire, and smoke.

Moments later, drone heads start peeking out of all the holes, and two of them make a big mistake - 99200 looks out of the window closest to where the “bomb” flew out of, and 99450 peeks directly through the hole the bomb melted in the wall. Both get immediately engulfed by a green telekinetic aura and dragged down towards the Queen, in 99450’s case through the wall.

99450 looks at the Queen’s smoldering mane and its eyes open wide with horror and realization.

“Meep!”

“DON’T YOU ‘meep’ ME!” she snarls and shakes the drones, “I asked a question!”

Chrysalis is burrowing deep into the minds of both drones, checking every word, today’s memory, searching for any inconsistency. In a fraction of a second, she knows what happened and calms down a little. Accident or not, however, what just happened is unforgivable and the only reason why 99450 isn’t a scorched smear in the middle of a smoldering crater is that no one of any relevant rank saw it. 2119 isn’t watching her through the eyes of the drones, and his link shows he barely heard her scream. The drones will forget it soon due to their busy lives, but others could get… ideas. Mercy isn’t necessarily a weakness, but it definitely can be. If both drones want to see tomorrow, they must prove their character, here and now.

It lies, it dies.

The answer comes immediately in the form of 99200 almost involuntarily glancing sideways at 99450 and the responsible drone stuttering out:

“M-Me, Your Majesty.”

“Why did you try to kill your Queen?” she narrows her eyes.

“Whaaaaa-?” 99450 now starts trembling and gets stuck in a loop of opening and closing its mouth.

“Y-Your Majesty?” peeps 99200. Chrysalis doesn’t move, instead she just slides the two telekinetically held drones sideways so that 99200 is in front of her face, “65536 told me last breaky time that some ponies who live in snow like this build tiny mounds out of it which they call uglies to keep warm. I didn’t understand how it could work which is why I kinda… froze last time. Later it explained to me that the snow kinda doesn’t melt if you build things right so I asked it to lend me its heating stone so that I could try. We did and it made the inside nice and shiny so I’m not sure why snow ponies call the mound houses uglies. We shared a hole with 99450 who had the idea to try to make 65536’s heating stone out of goop!” 99200 blurts out the usual nervous drone’s long stream of consciousness, ending with, “99450 thought it could work like glowgoop so we tried it.”

“It kinda worked…” adds 99450, surprising Chrysalis by her own newfound ability to twitch both eyes at once. A charred piece of royal mane lands on 99450’s head and slowly slides down. Under the Queen’s increasingly tested glare, the drone doesn’t notice.

“Did it now?” she asks slowly.

“Yup!” 99450 somehow manages to forget the situation it’s in when an interesting topic is presented, and Chrysalis immediately recognizes the same excited tone of voice that 99111 slipped into when talking about ‘tech’ and mainly when 99856 explained its ‘chemistry’ experiments, “65536 said that Luna Princess was really good at runny magic which is just about drawing squiggles into thingies and then filling those up with energy. 99200 borrowed the heating stone from 65536 to see how well it worked here in a snow cave. So I made some basic goop, let it harden, and then scribbled the right picture into it. It did start heating up but it kept cooling down really quickly so I kept adding love… but then it kinda… went too hot all at once. It burned me even through chitin,” 99450 shows its hooves which, unsurprisingly, show no marks of being scorched because they’re made from an already black keratin, “Uhh, it felt worse than it looks now. Anyway, I threw it away… uhhh… and it kinda melted through the snow and… uhh…” it stops, looking at the Queen’s singed forehead.

Chrysalis stares, but this time in amazement.

Changelings using magic? Not as a one-off special drone talent. Real magic fueled with love, limited it may be right now.

At this moment, Chrysalis is fully ready to let both drones go and order 10k to have a new, personal cave built for 99450 to experiment with magic just like 99856 and 99111 have. Unfortunately, 2119 trots into view and sees two drones being held by the visibly hurt Queen who immediately senses the gears in the infiltrator’s head turning.

Well, I guess your ordeal isn’t over yet.

“99450, such a dangerous transgression isn’t something I can just ignore,” Chrysalis’s expression shifts from angry to stern and haughty, “You will not get any love rations for the two following days. If you survive, drag yourself to the throne room. I’ll re-examine your case and see if you’ve regained your right to exist. Understood?”

She lets both drones drop back into the snow while 99450 is nodding so quickly its head is blurring.

“Your Majesty!” calls out 2119, stumbling through the snow as quickly as he can, “What’s going on? Why are you here? You’re hurt? Can I help-”

“The situation has been sorted out and the offending party has received a warning,” a green flame engulfs Chrysalis, quickly returning her to a pristine form, “And I’m the one with questions here. Don’t waste my time and energy by making me pull answers out of your head.”

“Of course, Your Majesty!” 2119 bows, “Drones, off you go and do whatever you were doing before.”

“Minus the magma-hot resin,” Chrysalis shoots 99450 a glance. The drone gulps and nods one more time, “We’ll talk about that again once your punishment is over. Go,” she adds firmly and the drones immediately fly up to the hole from which they came out in the first place. Her gaze follows them and, as she looks up, dozens of other watching drones vanish into their respective holes as well. Left alone with 2119, Chrysalis shakes her head and looks at the infiltrator, “I thought the drones were supposed to be running around to avoid freezing.”

“The games are over, Your Majesty. The drones were getting tired from all the running in the snow and, without the enticement of a reward, they decided they were far more interested in building stuff than in fighting, pretend it may be. As you assumed, though, they’re getting colder and I believe we will be returning to the hive soon.”

“Glad to hear we’re not repeating yesterday’s hypothermia incidents. Good job, 2119,” Chrysalis nods, turns away, and starts walking back to the hive.

“Then you, Your Majesty,” the infiltrator slowly breathes out.

Chrysalis barely registers him, all her thoughts consumed by the potential future of changelings using real magic.

That reminds me…

“387, can you hear me?” she mentally calls out, hiding the connection from anyone.

Silence.

“387, this is important,” she adds with calm that would surprise anyone who had ever been present during their usual conversations.

“Bugbutt, right now is a REALLY bad time,” 387’s link is barely audible, both due to him hiding it as well as due to sheer distance.

“I need you to make sure 99450’s work assignments for the next two shifts are as safe as possible,” she orders, “Make a note for 10k, just don’t leave behind any hint that it was on my orders.”

“Will do,” is all 387 whispers back and disconnects, leaving Chrysalis somewhat dumbfounded.

Just like that? What the holes is he doing?

Immediately suspicious, she scowls and concentrates on his link again. Of course she would have zero chance of finding the warrior, but the previous interaction revealed he can hear her even from here.

“If you need help, you old idiot, just ask.”

Author's Note

We're plodding along, just doing random stuff.
As for a more interesting topic, have you seen Hazbin Hotel in full? I've been a fan of the hell world since the old pilot and I can heartily recommend the season 1 as an example of very good writing. It's worth getting it on Amazon video, but if you, for any reason, can't pay, there are some reaction vids on youtube that upload the vids in full with a filter, or many who upload most of them.
And finally, if anyone's interested in drawing a cover for this story, I'd be happy to put it up in place of what I cobbled together from free eyeball assets. My idea was a Yakovlev's style drone in an Indiana Jones pose switching the green crystal while being watched by numerous dangers in the darkness. Then I realized even that was too much and ended up with that mess.

Sharing truths: 4

Deep in thought, Chrysalis returns to the hive and walks past 99 sitting by the stove and watching the snow packed into a kettle melt without acknowledging her at all.

“156, where are you?” Chrysalis connects to her second in command.

“Assessing the state of the drone cavern,” replies 156 immediately, “Do you need anything?”

“Do you know where 387 is?”

“No idea. I can’t track him if he doesn’t want to be found.”

Chrysalis just sighs internally as she sits down by the stove, stretching all her hooves towards the heat, and changes the subject. 99 can sense the Queen communicating, but can’t tell what’s going on or even who she’s talking to, so she doesn’t say a word.

“The state of the cavern then, how is it?”

“I can’t speak to structural damage, drones will have to check that. The quicktrotters brought six more slimes on 99’s orders and they’re all cleaning up the soot. They’re extremely slow, and based on their progress they’ll be done in two days if we keep the drones upstairs. If they don’t make it, the drones will just walk around and spread the soot from the uncleaned patches everywhere again.”

“That’s fine, at least the slimes will remain busy. Any other findings? Did they eat any of the trash the drones keep for themselves or anything useful?”

“Actually, yes,” a hint of interest creeps into 156’s matter-of-fact tone, “I tested feeding various items the drones left here to the slime –it would be easy to say those got lost in the fire– and it seems that in addition to coal dust they also eat… remains in general - I found a charred, dry wooden stick that somehow survived and the slime slowly dissolved it. Same went for some of 99200’s webbing it left here as well as my own dead chitin - I drained love out of a small part of my carapace and fed it to one. I did some testing with live tissue, even going so far as to remove a small part of my carapace and put the slime on my flesh, and nothing happened. No acidic feeling, nothing. As for resin, the chip of my own they wobbled over was left untouched, so maybe there’s some kind of drone resin they might eat but that’s beyond my ability to test. In short, I don’t think these slimes can cause any damage as long as the coal storage and the back workshops are closed.”

“Well done, 156. Leave it be and go check up on 10k’s surgery. I need you to take up 99380’s place as a hive mind node and send it here immediately. Refill everyone involved once it’s finished and assist 65536 with anything it needs regarding 10k’s recovery.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” 156 doesn’t ask why. She doesn’t think 99380 is in any danger from Chrysalis and if it was something she needed to know, she trusts the Queen to have told her.

Chrysalis cuts the link and looks at 99 who is staring into the flames through the feeding hole of the stove.

“Something is troubling you,” the Queen states without any semblance of a question in her tone.

“Yes, it is, Your Majesty,” admits 99, knowing that whether her current problem remains her own is entirely up to the Queen, “However, it’s something I would like to get to the bottom of without help.”

“Your call,” Chrysalis stands up, walks over to the wall, and drains love from a spot that reveals a hole hiding their meagre storage of metal cups. She levitates up two and brings them over to 99, “One thing - I need you to clear out once 99380 gets here.”

“Whoa, what did it do?” 99 looks at Chrysalis.

“Nothing. You’re acting as if a drone couldn’t be useful to me in a way other than mining something,” Chrysalis rolls her eyes, “I’ll return the drone in one piece,” the corner of her mouth twitches, “Two at most, but no more. Eeeh, maybe three if it’s not cooperative.”

Chrysalis’ attempt at lightening the mood fails as 99 just sighs. On one hole, it’s good that 99 took her joke for what it was, on the other… whatever is bothering 99 seems to be serious.

Still, if she wants to deal with it on her own, my job is just to be here when- IF it all crumbles.

***

It would be difficult for Chrysalis to explain the sudden incoming feeling of intent to a lesser changeling. On top of that, only a master infiltrator of Chrysalis’ or –she loathes to admit she knows someone like that– greater skill could understand what happens next as 99380 appears out of nowhere in a burst of green fire.

99 twitches as the drone’s hive link simply appears. Thankfully, by now there’s not enough tea inside her mug to spill over herself.

Chrysalis, though, notices a sudden drop in her love level. Not a major one by any measure, but noticeable. Roughly the amount she would gain if she, let’s say, devoured a healthy drone. A drop in the sea of her love capacity.

Could it be?

Chrysalis doesn’t have the time to expand on her theory of this particular skill of 99380.

“Hello, Your Majesty!” 99380 doesn’t approach, just smiles and waves at the duo, “156 said to come as quickly as possible, so… I’m here,” it pauses and scratches its head, “I don’t think I ran here.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Chrysalis smiles back, “99, leave us alone.”

“Sure, Your Majesty. I’ll be at my post outside,” 99 nods, chugs her remaining tea, and walks off.

99380 waits silently. It’s been called by the Queen herself so she will tell it what to do. Once 99 is out of sight, the Queen looks at 99380 and, if the drone had any social observation skill, it would see a brief moment of hesitation on her face.

Chrysalis takes a deep breath.

This can go one of two ways.

“99380, I called you here because you’re a drone with the most detailed access to the drone part of the hive mind and to the links of other drones. I need to use this access in order to isolate and trap that thing you call the Voice.”

“Whaa-?” 99380 blinks and leans backwards in surprise, “Why? The Voice is a friend. It’s been helping 10k, 99111, anyone who needed it. 36658 made it and 36658 was a good- no, a great drone!”

“99380, I could force you-” Chrysalis leans down so that her mouth almost touches the drone’s nose. As she does so, 99380 lowers its head between its shoulders and its ears droop, “-but I won’t. I won’t even sweet talk you and say you’re a smart drone who should know better. However, I will show you something, a lot of things, and I know you’re smart enough to understand what you’ll be seeing.”

She rises to her full sitting height again, her horn flares with green glow, and both of them get pulled into the hive mind where she melds her link with 99380’s to avoid hurting a drone with an overload of information. Once that’s done, Chrysalis weaves a mental fortress around them as well as she can.

No one else can know.

Through 99380, she hears a voice she’s never heard before.

“You don’t need to do this. I will come willingly.”

She ignores it. Her terms will be the only ones that apply in this situation. The unknown hive mind entity will not be allowed to split and to survive in any form outside of Chrysalis’ prison, and the only one who can help her drag it out of the hive mind, out of the love contained within the cells of every changeling it ever touched, is 99380. Well, do it without harming everyone involved, of course. Chrysalis could do it herself and will do so if 99380, after everything she’s about to show, refuses to help.

“99380. I will show you what uncontrolled hive mind entities did to us in the past,” she says and looks the drone in the eyes.

The time in the hive mind passes. Outside, it almost stands still.

99380’s eyes go wide, water, and tears begin streaming from its eyes. The drone doesn’t wipe them, it just trembles, staring blankly ahead.

“...it just helps… it’s like us… it just wants to help…” it whispers, sniffling.

Chrysalis’s voice turns hard and insistent, but there’s care in it as well.

“He thought he was helping too. SHE thought she was helping. They all thought they were helping. I… thought I was helping us, changelings, as a whole and look where it got us.”

99380 wibbles, but no amount of tears and snot underlining the wibble is enough to break Chrysalis’ resolve under these circumstances. There’s too much at stake.

“But I called for YOU, because unlike all- unlike most of them, do you know who really was helping? Who helped without any thoughts of their own benefit?”

Chrysalis shows 99380 two more images. The first one is painfully familiar and brings back memories of fear and heat so vivid that 99380 whimpers and folds on the floor, hiding its head with its forelegs. The second one gives the drone a pause, however, and it peeks out from under its hooves.

“...w-was that…?”

“A drone by the rank of 9999 lying to a ranked infiltrator in order to save a deaf drone. 36658 lied to 10k in order to trade its life for that of someone it thought more worth it. 10k lied to me and 387 in order to try and save Smiley. I KNOW about all of it, yet I play your games and act accordingly because you know what? Even when you lie, you little derps genuinely try to help. You’re just too trusting, too powerless, and too inexperienced to protect yourselves. Now, I’m asking again, 99380 - after all you just saw, do you trust me enough to protect you drones?”

“...w-was it all… true?” peeps 99380.

“It was.”

“Will you let the Voice stay if it’s really a friend?”

“You saw that even the good entities don’t always remain beneficial forever, but… there is a chance.”

99380 sighs, sits up, finally wipes its face. It’s carapace, so all it does is smear snot and tears around. In the end, however, despite its mournful expression, it nods.

“I’ll help. What do I do?”

Circles burning with emerald flames light up in the darkness around them, replacing the silver ones on the floor of the hive mind room.

“Call the entity here. I’ve already made preparations.”

“Voice?” 99380 calls out. A moment later, ‘undefined drone model version 1’ materializes sitting in the center of the smallest ring on the floor. Green chains appear out of nowhere and wrap around it. The ‘drone’ doesn’t struggle, it just looks first at Chrysalis and then at 99380 who hangs its head and mumbles, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” says the Voice calmly, “A choice had to be made, and you were the one to make it. Frankly, seeing changeling history through your eyes made me understand why the Queen was so insist-” the green chains squeeze hard, seemingly surprising the Voice who groans in pain.

“I’m sorry,” 99380 repeats and lies down, hiding its face again.

Chrysalis walks up to the Voice and one of her foreleg hooves unfurls into long claws. Without warning, she rams it into the fake drone’s forehead. There’s no blood, only a single green pulse that bursts through the hive mind around them, forming countless floating reference marks in the air, so many that they almost form a cocoon around the trio.

“Let’s see what you really are,” growls Chrysalis, ignoring 99380 who is sobbing and whimpering again.

The Voice’s form just twitches uncontrollably before it starts glitching out. Chrysalis peels away layer after layer of information the entity seems to consist of. She knows that a core that will reveal the truth must be somewhere underneath. She remains on edge despite there being only a little resistance. The entity doesn’t seem powerful, its tendrils just reach far and wide and are only bound to a “location” by Chrysalis’ mental pressure.

It knows everything I’ve just shown 99380. It knows everything the drones know. Just from that, it should be using up far more love than it is.

She digs into the revealed knowledge and sees 99’s and 387’s earlier attempt at trapping and examining the Voice. However, the point of view is 99’s, not the Voice’s as she expected it to be.

It lacks symptoms of individuality, it just… reacts and responds.

She peels more and more information away. Everything is consistent with what 99 and 387 discovered before, so at least the Voice doesn’t seem to be lying. However, the two didn’t get deep enough and she does now, revealing the barest form of the Voice.

It’s just a simple set of basic instructions… and a desperate wish.

“…what we die for must not be forgotten…”

At that moment, everything clicks into place in Chrysalis’ head, and she withdraws her talon from the Voice’s head. The fake drone stops glitching, then twitching, and finally its breathing returns to normal as it blinks while staring ahead.

The imaginary idea of how a mechanical pony might work, the understanding of a drone barely familiar with simple clockwork. It realized that the robot was just a part of a greater whole and related it to the hive mind. 36658 wanted- no, wished for a caretaker who could help drones and their allies remember certain things so that every drone’s inevitable death wouldn’t mean the loss of their knowledge.

Its wish was granted. Somehow.

“How did 36658 create you?” she asks the Voice.

“I don’t know,” it replies.

“Theorize.”

“The only possibility I can think of is that it somehow used the Universal Wavelength Reforger to create what it understood 10101 to be and about its existence as a long-term caretaker,” the Voice confirms Chrysalis’ theory.

“The damn robot said the device didn’t work,” Chrysalis frowns.

“It said that the Reforger was unfinished,” the Voice corrects her, “After all, 99380 is successfully using it to find those quicktrotter ‘skips’. How 36658 did it is beyond me. It didn’t even know it was the one who must have made me.”

“Yet it still gave you enough power to shield drones from mind control,” she raises an eyebrow, “It makes me wonder what more you can do.”

“I can only work within the hive mind, and most of my attention is spent on analyzing information. With a good enough description, I might be able to perform other tasks.”

“Helpful, as expected from a drone creation,” Chrysalis turns away and walks over to 99380 still cowering on the floor, “Get up!”

The drone does so, its eyes darting from Chrysalis to the chained Voice.

“Thank you for your help, 99380,” she states, the chains restraining the Voice vanish, and the hive mind circles stop glowing green, “Voice, make sure that what happened here isn’t leaving this place, especially what I showed 99380. NO ONE will read any of this out of 99380’s mind and 99380 is a good drone so it won’t tell anyone even by accident, right?” she leans close and boops the drone’s nose.It’s not the nice kind of boop, it’s a very threatening boop, “Consider it a chance to prove yourselves.”

“Understood. I will limit access to this specific segment of information,” the Voice nods, “Who should be allowed to access it?”

“Only 99380,” Chrysalis smirks, “We don’t want to traumatize anyone else.”

99380 and the Voice nod. Chrysalis raises her hoof.

“One final thing before I let you both go - Voice, stay out of non-drone heads unless they specifically ask and unless they’re considered ‘friends’. That’s AND, not OR. The others will get you in full when they’ve earned you, and I’ll decide when that is,” Chrysalis stomps, and the darkness of the hive mind vanishes, leaving her and 99380 alone on the stone floor of the throne room. The drone is still overwhelmed by the horrifying visions, so Chrysalis pats its head, refilling it with love, “Good job, 99380.”

“...it feels like I betrayed a friend…” it mumbles.

“Correct choices don’t always feel good, often quite the opposite,” she says, “Now, 156 is still taking your place assisting 65536, so why don’t you have some fun with the others outside before it gets dark and too cold to stay?”

“I- I’d like that, Your Majesty,” 99380 forces a smile.

“Off you go then,” she nods towards the exit, and 99380 vanishes in a burst of green fire. Chrysalis feels the return of love she previously lost, when the drone appeared.

Hah! I still don’t know how it does it, but I was right about WHAT it’s doing.

99380 isn’t teleporting around in a way a unicorn would describe it. It’s not bending space, it’s not turning itself into atoms and shooting itself using magic to a different place. A changeling only holds shape if there’s love coursing through its body. Without it, the carapace crumbles and flesh withers. In theory, if one was able to take all the love out of its body, the body would just disintegrate. Is 99380 transferring love through other changelings, like any changeling can do, only truly… all of it? Without knocking out all the drones it’s passing through or them even noticing?

As usual, a stupidly useful ability limited to someone possessing as little love as a drone. If I tried, I’d either immolate or forcibly hibernate half of my hive depending on if I’m coming or going.

She flies up onto the throne, stretches, and lies down. She wouldn’t let it show, but shackling the Voice was taxing even for her.

Speaking of which…

“I almost forgot. Welcome to the hive, Voice.”

The Voice doesn’t need to answer. Chrysalis knows it heard her.

Author's Note

The end of chapter 7.

Author's Note

The explosive situation is escalating.

Author's Note

She never catches a break.

Author's Note

A short chapter this week. In between updates, you can read "Bug wife" or "What am I supposed to do with this thing?", both stories trampling me with popularity within a couple updates, if you need your changeling fix. I'm not jealous, just disappointed with myself. I've also been playing too much Helldivers 2 and writing too little.
The good part is that I should have this story finished in a week or two if I don't get stuck. I'm ON HOLIDAY, which only means that I'll be home but not working. On the other hand, spreading managed democracy, doing some exercising, and going on walks doesn't sound that bad.

Author's Note

I swear I didn't plan on 99999's resurrection being on Easter. High Score still remains drone Jesus.

Power of perseverance: 1

The throne room bath tub has been set up, the water is steaming inside it, and the drones’ hoofsteps are still echoing through the hive, each having left with a lock of Chrysalis’ mane. They could have gotten a full love crystal or some of the gems stored for the next set of missions, but Chrysalis knows by now that drones have a ridiculous collector streak and something as unique and lasting as her mane is a much more valuable reward despite not being shiny and containing less love than a full crystal.

“Never thought I’d say that, but the short mane suits you, Big Floaty,” states 387, the surprise in his voice completely genuine.

“Smack him over the head for me, 156,” Chrysalis doesn’t dignify the comment with a look, entirely occupied by testing the hot water with her hoof.

While she’s not watching, 156 approaches 387, raises her foreleg towards the defiantly pouting warrior, and…

…instead of gently bonking him, she wraps it around his neck and gives him a kiss. Needless to say, it surprises him more than any blow would.

“Heeey!” 387 frowns when 156 withdraws and he notices a small amount of his love missing, having been drained by the infiltrator.

“Tasty,” she winks at him.

“I’d like to report a changeling disobeying a royal order!” 387 allows himself a fake whine.

“I smacked him with my lips, Your Majesty,” 156 chuckles, “Mission accomplished.”

Chrysalis ignores both of them, slowly sliding into the bathtub.

“Clowns, both of you. Ahhhh…” she breathes out, closing her eyes, “156, if you can stop yourself from slobbering over 387 just for a little longer, go tell the 2119 and 3012 to close the entrance and go to sleep. On the way, close the throne room. 387 and I have something to talk about. It won’t take long.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she leaves the throne room and, with a few touches relocating the love in the wall around the entrance, makes the resin wall seal the throne room off.

Inside, Chrysalis sighs.

“It’s still cold in here, the water won’t last long. Do you think we could section off a part of the throne room to make a bathroom?”

For once, 387 decides to accommodate her and not change the subject immediately.

“This place is needlessly big, especially when you’re the only changeling here most of the time. You could easily fit several small, insulated rooms by the back wall of the chimney and keep the throne room for official occasions. Not that we actually have any.”

Chrysalis sighs louder and for a longer time. Whatever is bothering 387 must be crucial this time for him to play at her pace.

“Alright, 387, speak. I suppose it has something to do with you tracking a certain group of ranked changelings, am I right?”

“Seven ranked changelings have been moving around the hive with a cart of cargo. They either knew someone was tracking them or were just paranoid, because they moved the cargo repeatedly and in the end I couldn’t safely follow them. There’s a limit to sneaking when you have to follow a long, straight tunnel,” he frowns.

“Any idea who they were?” asks Chrysalis, successfully hiding the shock that turns her blood to ice despite the hot water she’s submerged in.

Seven?! There were seven of them when they ambushed 65536 and 99200 and one of them got melted by 65536’s spell. 387 was in stealth mode long after that. Why are there still SEVEN? Does that mean one of the gate sentries joined them? No, that makes no sense. One of them was with the drones outside and one was helping 65536 with the surgery. Even if every other ranked changeling was a traitor, there should only be six of them.

“No, only that there wasn’t a drone with them, so that’s… something,” 387 shakes his head, “I couldn’t identify their hive links at all. I barely even sensed them up close. They have someone with them who can reliably shield them from any form of tracking and…” he pauses briefly. Chrysalis doesn’t interrupt him with any nonsense and he continues, “I think it’s another flutterpony.”

“What the holes?!” this time, Chrysalis doesn’t manage to control herself.

“I… I have my ways to track changelings who are way more skilled than me in terms of mental skills. Instead of forcing myself to dig into unfamiliar territory, I’ve been practicing my unique skills since I had to use them on the island due to the anti-changeling restraints. Whoever is shielding the strange group, though, is effective even against me.”

“I see. And only another flutterpony could block your special flutterpony powers, right?”

“Yes. As far as I know, neither you nor 156 can do it,” admits 387 openly, “However, I’ve been thinking and I have an idea how to find them. It, unfortunately, would require you to stay calm when I show you something.”

Chrysalis raises an eyebrow.

“Do go on, 387. You know I’m the paragon of patience and not-overreacting.”

“This isn’t a joke,” says the warrior and invites Chrysalis into the hive mind.

The two slip into an empty hive mind room, 387 concentrates, and the “default drone” appears.

“Ah. Nice to see you again in person, Voice,” Chrysalis allows herself the smuggest of smiles.

387’s jaw drops.

“You- You know about this thing?!”

“Tsk tsk tsk,” Chrysalis shakes her head, “Don’t call my friend Voice ‘a thing’.”

387 boots them out of the hive mind immediately, looking sternly at Chrysalis smirking back in the real world.

“How do you know about it?” he asks.

“Drones aren’t good at keeping secrets,” Chrysalis shrugs, water trickling through the gaps in her carapace, “And I’m vastly better at hunting down hive mind entities than you and 99 put together. Voice and I came to an… understanding.”

387 takes a moment to collect himself.

“Well, this… Voice said it sensed a mind similar to mine at some point, so that’s what gave me the flutterpony idea. The mental shield I encountered later didn’t confirm it as such, but definitely gave the opinion weight. Uh, Voice -we need to give you a real name-, can you sense the weird mind again?”

“Not right now. If you give me something exact to look for I might be able to, but not right now,” replies Voice, audible in the minds of both present changelings, “Umm, can I go? 99111 has been assembling a generator brought by 65536 and I have to categorize the new knowledge. It doesn’t use up much love unless I need to be quick.”

“Of course, this was just a misunderstanding,” says Chrysalis out loud and feels Voice vanish, “Generator? What are they doing this time?”

“No idea, not sure if I want to know,” 387 shakes his head, “So, what do we do now?”

“Now we have a good night’s sleep, 387. That’s an order,” Chrysalis’ tone turns serious, “You look exhausted. Get over here and I’ll recharge you. No more running around tonight.”

“Better to face whatever is coming fresh, I suppose,” 387 sighs, approaching the bathing Queen.

Neither of them know that 156 is standing with her ear pressed against the narrowest wall of the throne room. Once the sounds of the Queen and 387 talking die down, she walks over to the closed entrance to the throne room and waits until Chrysalis decides to call her back in. As 156 loads the final chunks of coal for the day and lies down by it, pressing her back against the stones, she forces her racing mind under control and tries to fall asleep.

So much to do, and so little time.

***

By far the longest carriage of the Las Pegasus Express, the bar, is both full and empty at the same time. Pretty much all passengers are here right now, drinking away the memories of the bandit ambush, but from the limited conversation and thousand-yard stares it’s clear that everyone’s minds are elsewhere entirely. However, if there is something to bring everyone’s attention back to reality then it’s the arrival of the changeling whose head was blown clean off, who came back before their eyes, and who subsequently ate its own body with just the happiest, innocent smile.

Even the band playing an unobtrusive tune on a podium in the back of the car stops when said changeling enters the bar and looks around with eyes wide from complete amazement.

“GASP! EVERYTHING IS SPARKLY!” 99999 squees as it takes in the glamor of the bar carriage lit by a central glass chandelier, numerous sconces on the walls, and the occasional candle burning on the occupied tables. All the light sources meet on the shelves behind the bar taking up most of the left side of the car where there are rows upon rows of variously colored liquor bottles. 99999 loses all self-control and immediately rushes to the counter and flies up onto a bar stool twice its height. Only then it turns back around and waves at Smiley who is still standing by the door, “Look, Smiley, I’m so tall I could boop the Queen now!” without waiting for any reaction, it turns around again and peeks through a glass of some amber-colored liquid in front of a mare sitting on the next stool, “Ooooh, prettyyy. Whatcha drinking?” it beams at her.

She stares at the hyper changeling who by all rights should be dead, and eventually shrugs. The world has turned into a weird place.

“Something strong enough to calm my nerves after today but for you, little weirdo, it would fluff your chest,” she mutters with a snicker.

“I WANNA FLUFFY CHEST!” 99999 correctly identifies the bartender as someone probably responsible for this whole place and waves at him, “Mister pony! Can I get the chest fluffer too? Mister steward Coltsy said Smiley and I were first class now and can get-”

“I’m aware,” the bartender nods, “Are you old enough to drink, though?”

“I drank some stuff before,” replies 99999, unsure what the question means, “Was I not supposed to?”

“It’s fine,” the drinking mare smirks, “Pour the guy a small one and when he starts swaying I’ll call his marefriend to take him away.”

“I’d rather still ask,” the bartender frowns and waves at Smiley. When she takes a couple steps forward, he adds, “Hey, Miss changeling! Is your little friend allowed to drink alcohol?”

Smiley hesitates, but without her tablet she doesn’t have much of an option but to carefully nod. After all, why wouldn’t a changeling be allowed to drink something ponies can?

Consent given, 99999 sniffs the fresh glass in front of itself and tenses up, blinking. The mare next to it smirks.

“Too strong for you, youngin?” she teases and downs the rest of her own glass.

Spurred on, 99999 downs its own in one gulp. It freezes, breathes in, and immediately starts wheezing and coughing. Smiley notices and rushes to help, but all she does is stand up on her hind legs, pushing herself up on the bar stool with her forelegs, before 99999 recovers, calms down, and just says:

“Wow.”

“Are you okay?” asks the bartender.

“Yup, all nice and warm now,” 99999 nods and pats its stomach, “The taste just surprised me. I’m fine, Smiley,” it leans down and hugs Smiley who is still standing partially upright, “Do you want a drink too? I don’t think it makes you fluffy, though,” it recalls the crucial part of the promise and bends its head down to examine its still stubbornly chitinous chest, “Maybe I need to drink more?” it turns to the bartender, “Can I get more, please?”

“No amount of this will make you grow hair on your chest, little guy,” says the bartender, “It’s just a pony saying.”

“Hmmm,” 99999 thinks for a second before shooting the instigating mare a look, “Sorry I misunderstood you, Miss. I’m new to this pony stuff.”

“I, uh, it’s fine?” she isn’t sure how to cope with the situation going in an entirely different direction than she expected when baiting the changeling. 99999 smiles at her and turns towards the bartender again.

“Mister, do you have something that tastes like love?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what love tastes like.”

“Huuuh-” 99999 looks sideways where Smiley, still persistently propped against the middle ring of the bar stool, starts waving her foreleg, “Yes, Smiley?”

Smiley reaches for her neck and visibly withers when the tablet isn’t there. Her lack of ability to express herself is much worse when she knows how to help and can’t. She scrunches her nose.

Best number would figure out how to do this even without a tablet.

She makes an exaggerated shape of an S in the air.

“S?” guesses the bartender.

Smiley nods and makes an exaggerated W.

“Sweet?” he gets it on the second try.

Smiley nods, but it’s not over yet as she tries to add more detail about the amazing drink Mister Night Hunter got for her.

“Hot?”

More nodding, more gesticulation.

“S- sh- shoko- chocolate?”

Smiley nods, beams, and finally stops, satisfied with her work. The bartender ponders it briefly before looking over the carriage to assess the state of incoming orders.

“I don’t exactly have that on hoof, but let me deal with this round and I’ll try to think of something.”

“Thank you, Mister!” only now does 99999 take its egg-less and significantly lighter backpack from its back and move it to the front, able to fit like that on the bar stool only due to its small size. Situation solved, Smiley just sits down on the floor under the counter and waits.

The bartender returns quickly, offering 99999 a glass of something brown and, unlike the previous drink, barely even sloshing.

“A Maretime Bayleys?” the mare sitting next to 99999 sniffs the air, “Good choice.”

The drone sniffs the glass as well. Its ears perk up and it downs it in one gulp.

“Eeeeeeeeeeee!” it squee’s immediately, “Can I get another one, please? Smiley, you MUST try this! This is the best thing ever! THE. BEST. THING. EVER!”

“Two glasses it is then,” the bartender smirks.

***

An hour goes by, during which the bar of the Las Pegasus Express empties somewhat. The remaining passengers, though, are clearly having a great time with one peculiar, new attraction.

“Ch- cheatin’ lil’ bugger-” the latest challenger slowly keels over and drops from the bar stool, caught by the onlookers who set up chairs and moved several tables into a semi-circle around the bar counter.

“Yaaaaay, I won again!” cheers 99999, the counter in front of it full of empty shot glasses. It also shoves a pile of bits to its side of the counter, taking only a couple of bits to stash in its backpack, “And I got this many shinies! Small glasses for everyone! Who wants to play another round?”

The bartender stops by 99999 and counts off the coins before getting to work on refilling everyone’s glasses. In the meantime, a new challenger sits on the bar stool next to the drone, a stallion for the first time this evening, and lays down several coins on the counter between himself and the drone.

“Prepare to get your plot kicked, you big colt!” calls out someone from the audience. So far, 99999 has managed to drink five ponies under the table with no signs of the alcohol having any effect on it, but there’s lively betting between the audience not on the winner but on how long the challengers last, and with 99999 using most of its winnings to pay for everyone else’s drinks, using its first class privilege only for its own orders, there’s very little ill will between the crowd.

In contrast to 99999’s popularity, Smiley is sitting alone at a corner table with her own bottle of the chocolate liquor, her eyes locked on the menu in front of her. This “menu” thing is both daunting and fascinating. While she can, on average, understand over half of the words she finds, they make no sense to her when put together, which is the peculiar part.

The good part is that the menu is separated into different sections, so when she gets stuck on one she can move onto a different one.

Beverages.

A new, weird word. Smiley perseveres and starts exploring the list underneath. An idea comes to mind when she sees a familiar word, and she looks towards the bar, specifically at the list of drinks written in large, chalk, letters on a large blackboard hanging from the ceiling.

I miss my slate.

Her assumption proves correct and the “beverages” section is an expanded list of “drinks” at the bar. Now to decipher what the drinks could be.

White Stalliongradian? Virgin Bloody Mare?

Unknown words and word combinations all over the place. Smiley knows she might not have the smarts like 10k, but the two major things she has in abundance are patience and persistence, both words that she doesn’t know, can’t write, but feels deep in her bones… which she doesn’t know she has either.

The noises of 99999 being the main attraction tonight fade into the background as she reads on, which allows certain steward Coltsy approach her table without her noticing. Only when he casts a shadow over the menu does Smiley notice him.

“Hey, young lady. For being the great savior of the Express, you don’t look like you’re enjoying yourself. Is anything wrong?”

Smiley, like many times today, unconsciously reaches for her neck before sighing and just shaking her head. Now that most of the daily duties are done, Coltsy seizes the initiative and opens with:

“Am I bothering you? Would you like me to leave you alone?”

Smiley shakes her head again, making him more confident about his approach. The two changelings are clearly far out of their safe zone, and only one is dealing with it well. The changelings who occasionally ride the Express are always the full-sized ones who have no trouble fitting in with anyone who isn’t directly trying to keep away, so this is an interesting experience. The only drawback is that he has to figure out how to solve the situation only using yes or no questions.

“Would you like another drink?” he taps the empty liquor bottle on the table. Smiley nods.

Coltsy runs off and returns shortly with more liquor. It’s a different, green bottle, though. He puts it on the table with:

“I wanted to get you the chocolate one but your friend told me to get you absinthe. Supposedly it’s bound to remind you of home,” he fills up Smiley’s glass.

She picks it up with both forelegs, sniffs it, takes a sip, smiles, and finally nods. Coltsy watches her slowly sip the drink. Despite not contributing to the conversation, the changeling’s silence doesn’t seem to be the awkward kind, just that of someone not used to company and currently unable to continue the conversation, not unwilling to.

“With your friend busy, would you like to play a game for two that doesn’t require you talking?”

This elicits a look of genuine interest from Smiley, emboldening Coltsy to pull out a heavily-used deck of cards from the pocket of his steward suit and sets it on the table.

“Do you know how to play Blackjack?”

Smiley shakes her head.

“It’s a very simple game. It’s more tactical if there are multiple players, so with only two of us the luck factor goes way up, but it has to be more interesting than studying the menu in great detail. So, you play it like this-”

From being interested in the pretty pictures on the cards to gradually getting the rules over a couple rounds, Smiley finally enjoys some company. 99999 keeps drinking ponies under the table, all while enjoying cocktails provided by the bartender, some mixed only with the clear desire to get rid of unfinished bottles, which doesn’t bother the drone in the slightest. After even the most hopeful challengers give up, 99999 joins the band with its harmonica, turning the rehearsed music into some weird improvisation. Due to its honest interest, the band members let the drone try out other instruments too, which lasts until one o’clock when the bar closes, the band packs it up, and Coltsy leads the changelings to their new, first class coupe.

After Smiley and 99999 wash their hooves in the full basin, the eventful day finally ends with them curled up in one ball under the blanket, backpacks still on their backs.

Author's Note

I might be a gloomy bastard most of the time, but I'm really happy for every single person reading my word salad. Maybe it's even good that there aren't that many of you because I can reply to everyone.

Power of perseverance: 2

99 wakes up on her back, finally refreshed and at peace, with the horrors of yesterday postponed for now. She also feels somewhat warm, and something heavy is lying on her chest. Her mind fires up before she opens her eyes, and she reaches out to take stock of the situation. As if withdrawing a curtain of silence and peace, nearby hive links and the mental map become accessible, and the silent and still mental world shifts into 99’s normal mental picture of reality. With that peculiar situation sorted out, 99 concentrates on the corporeal world and opens her eyes. The weight on her chest turns out to be 99380 sleeping draped across her along with a heavy spider web cloak. Somehow, she can sense that the protective sphere of mental peace was the drone’s doing, and she’s more than thankful, because she has to admit that this might have been possibly the best sleep she’s had… maybe ever.

“How can I repay you?” she mutters quietly, yet still eliciting an open eye from 99380.

“Huh? Heya, 99!” 99380 perks up and moves off of her, “Did you sleep well? With what happened last time we met, Voice and I decided to stay close just in case. Well, I did. Voice is just kinda everywhere.”

“Better than ever,” she sits up, pats the drone’s head, and removes the web cloak, “And what’s this?”

“When 99200 heard about 10k’s recovery schedule, it brought back a whole bunch of webs to make it a pillow and a cloak, saying that they felt great to sleep on and under. From the leftovers, it made a group blanket,” it pokes the piled-up webbing next to 99.

“It’s not wrong,” 99 stands up and stretches, “Speaking of 10k, how is it doing?”

“It’s resting after its first walk of this worky time,” 99380 points to the only filled alcove in the HSC where 10k is sleeping in a grey cocoon, “It took some persuading to use the webs, but in the end it had to admit these weren’t dangerous.”

“Especially since 99200 already gave a cloak to the Queen,” comments 99.

“Pff, even if something’s dangerous to us, there’s no way it would hurt the Queen,” 99380 waves its hoof dismissively.

“I guess it’s a long shot,” admits 99 and starts planning her day, “Thanks for keeping an eye on me, 99380.”

“I kept the whole me on you!” 99380 beams.

“Even better,” 99 briefly prances in place to get her blood flowing, much to the puzzled look of 99380 who nonetheless doesn’t comment. In its mind, high ranks do high rank things it doesn’t need to understand, “Say, 99380, you’re the hive mind specialist. Can you sense any high ranks in the hive?”

“Mmmm,” the drone pouts in concentration, “You’re here, Her Majesty is in the throne room with 156. Someone… uhh… is there too -I think that’s 387, he’s really hard to spot- aaand he’s gone. He must have noticed me looking.”

“Don’t worry about him. Anyone else?”

“Yup, 2119 and 3012 are on the top floor too,” 99380 scrunches its nose, “And someone’s in the lower tunnels, but I can’t sense who. Weird.”

“Don’t worry about it,” 99 hides a victorious smile. The picture of the conspiracy she’s been slowly putting together is finally coming together, “Can you tell me where they are? A general area at least.”

“Yup,” 99380 puts a private marker on an area of the hive mind map, visible only to 99, “This direction is the best I can do.”

“Thank you very much,” 99 scratches the drone behind the ear, “I’ll leave you to your business now.”

“Have fun!” 99380 waves at her as she turns to leave, and checks its own shift schedule, “Huh, I got digging today. Neat! I’ll just put away the blanket-”

It vanishes in a burst of green fire before it can do anything, leaving 99 alone with sleeping 10k and the weird slimes slowly wobbling around. 99 shakes her head and stashes the web blanket into a nearby higher alcove. She doesn’t know if the slimes eat webbing, but it would be a shame if 99200’s creation got ruined.

No one should be in the hive. As I suspected, something’s going on, someone’s been manipulating the high rank mission schedule, and the only one who can even barely notice is 99380 who has no idea that something’s amiss. If 415 and his allies are ready for the Queen and the “powerful” top ranks, it’s up to me to figure out what’s going on and put a stop to it.

***

Strolling through the lower tunnels, 99 isn’t hiding her presence whatsoever. The section pointed out by 99380 is in a safe, mined-out territory a short distance away from the core tunnels. Despite that, the rough tunnels are wide and tall enough for her to fit through, so this place can’t have been just some random shaft. After not even ten minutes of aimless walking in the right area, 99 hears hoofsteps nearby and smirks.

Huh. Still can’t sense whoever that is. Their link masking must be crazy strong, which explains how they’d be able to move around without the Queen noticing.

She doesn’t even act surprised when she rounds a bend and spots 415 waiting for her.

“You’re pretty difficult to find,” she states matter-of-factly, “A good prerequisite for attempting treason.”

“Not difficult enough, apparently,” 415’s confident calm is as infuriating as always, but 99 doesn’t let it show, “So, did you make up your mind?”

“That depends on what happens now,” 99 grins. Green flame briefly lights the tunnel, shifting 99’s normally smooth carapace into a plated and jagged warrior armor. To her satisfaction, 415 doesn’t call her bluff and backs off a step, which is a great thing, because 99 knows first-hoof from her sparring with 387 what a skilled warrior changeling can do, “All top ranks confirmed that the Queen’s daughter didn’t die, and that 745 is simply running late. And you know what? I also know from a reliable source that your story about royal daughters being solely for food is at least fifty-fifty bullshit, so I’m willing to risk avoiding becoming food by proving my worth and putting the top ranks on the trail of your conspiracy. This is your last chance to give me a reason to think my survival chances are higher with you.”

99 hides her surprise when 415 smiles back, his confidence shaking her own again.

“I hope you retain that vigor and courage when push comes to shove, 99. 745 isn’t on a mission, she returned days ago and was killed by a drone.”

“By a drone?” 99 laughs, “You can’t be serious,” she reminds herself that the old changelings grew up in a cutthroat atmosphere forcing the survival of the fittest, “I might go as far as to say that anyone killed by a drone deserves it for being weak.”

For the first time, 99 spots a shade of disgust cross 415’s face. Getting under his carapace is a small victory, but at this point she takes what she can get.

“It was the one protected by pony magic. It baited 745 to enter its head,” the warrior scowls.

Once again, the seesaw of trustworthiness moves the other way. 99 knows how Chrysalis’ own attempt at reading 65536’s mind ended, and it’s not far-fetched that a normal infiltrator could suffer a fatal wound by doing the same.

“And I’m supposed to just believe you, am I?”

“No, you’re not. I was there and I’ll let you look into my memories,” 415 shakes his head.

Warning bells immediately start ringing for 99 but, unlike the time she was attacked by the strange mental entity, she has a friend to call on.

“VOICE! I need your help.”

“I’m here. What’s going on?” asks the familiar voice of Voice.

“I’m going to dive into the head of someone I don’t entirely trust and I don’t want it to end like last time when you and 99380 had to save me. Can you keep an eye on me?”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Thank you. Pull 99380 into it if need be, just make sure it doesn’t come in person.”

“Alright, show me,” 99 speaks out loud after the exchange. She’s not skilled enough to avoid the passage of time during mental conversation entirely, but she’s smart enough to narrow her eyes and pretend she’s briefly measuring 415 instead of calling for Voice’s backup.

***

Through 415’s eyes, 99 can see him holding 99200 by the neck. As threatening as it would be to someone with a soft neck like a pony, it sort of is the easiest way to hold a drone, so 99 can’t fault the warrior yet. It decompresses the spine too, that’s why there are the weird, new neck hooks in the High Score cavern. They’re a great idea once one forgets that the drones came up with it after being unsuccessfully hanged by hippogriffs during the island trip.

“-just camping. I’m here often, so you must have missed me before. Are you here to camp too? I can dig a hole for you too, because this one’s kinda too small for all of you,” replies 99200 to a question 415 posed before the memory started. 99 can easily guess it was some variant of ‘What are you doing here?’.

A ranked mare behind 415 whom the memory identifies as 745 responds first: “Hive business. You didn’t see anything and you didn’t meet anyone today.”

65536 bursts out from a still covered part of a burrow at floor level, scowling.

“If anything happens to either of us, you’ll have the Queen and two alicorns on your necks,” threatens the drone.

“Let’s just wipe them and go then,” offers 745 and 415 nods.

745 screams and collapses, which is the abridged version of the horrifying melting, boiling, and subsequent thrashing on the floor which mercifully only lasts a couple seconds.

“What did you do?” growls 415, dropping 99200.

“I warned you,” 65536 shrugs, “99200, let’s go.”

***

“We ate 745’s body and let the drones leave,” 415 frowns, “As much as I hate to say it, 65536 was right in assuming that a mid rank’s life wouldn’t be worth the potential political consequences of punishing that little traitor.”

“That doesn’t sound like 65536,” 99 hesitates.

“Doesn’t it? It’s a pre-invasion drone. I can admit that their lives were harsh, and I now know 65536 definitely hasn’t forgotten it. Maybe, in its mind, you’re just ‘one of the few good ones’. With their new mind control resistance and militarization, none of us are safe, and the Queen doesn’t care. Perhaps she thinks that they, with their inventions, can eventually replace us all,” 415 sees that 99 is still unconvinced, “You know what? Check 99200’s memories yourself. It was there. None of my ‘associates’ have interacted with the drone ever since, so you can check all of its memories to confirm my story. You’d better do it quickly while you still have the time to choose correctly.”

99 transforms back into her casual form, although the suspicious glare she’s giving 415 doesn’t change.

“Where do I meet you after I do that?”

“The place where 745 died, how about that?” offers 415.

“You are going there right now and waiting for me,” orders 99 and, without waiting for confirmation, leaves.

A conspiracy born out of fear for their lives then, not just a power grab? That’s a good thing. It means that if I can dispel everyone’s fears or offer them some guarantees, then I can make all this go away and avoid losing some of the hive’s high ranks or harm coming to my friends in charge or the drones. Maybe there is light at the end of the tunnel.

***

Worky time is in full swing, and the first half of 99200’s shift consists of following a tiny seam of silver which is likely to yield a hoofful at best, which for the happily humming drone only means that it’s going slowly with utmost care to accidentally not dig off anything that sparkles in the glow of its blue eyes even slightly. If today’s digging is bound to be safe, it should be done extra properly. The safety and uninteresting nature of its assignment only makes it stranger when it hears a voice call out:

“99200, it’s 99. Can you climb out of the hole for a moment?”

The drone stashes the couple small fragments of natural silver it’s found so far under its carapace and realizes it can’t even turn around inside the tiny shaft.

“I’m kinda stuck. Give me a moment to dig myself out,” 99200 quickly clears out enough space to start crawling back, “I got lost in thought and kept digging forward. 99380 is playing really nice tunes,” as much as 99 would like to listen to the hive mind jukebox, she’s way too on edge, so she waits in silence until 99200’s head peeks out of the hole in the ground, “Heya, 99!” the drone smiles, “Whatcha doing here?”

“I need to examine your memory in depth,” she gets straight to the point, “It might take a while.”

“That’s fine. 10k gave me some extra time to get more webby spinner webs. I can do that during breaky time too,” 99200 shrugs and crawls out of the hole.

“Thanks. I promise I’ll think of something to give you later. Right now I have bigger things to deal with.”

“Okay!” 99200 has no idea what’s going on, but 99 is a nice changeling so it’s all good.

The two sit down, and 99 delves into someone’s memories for the second time today.

“Voice, cover me again, please.”

“I’m here,” is the helpful entity’s calming response.

Meticulously, 99 goes through 99200’s memories of the encounter. They’re somewhat fragmented and blurry, which can be explained by the drone’s panic at being caught by high ranks for some unknown crime, but overall they confirm 415’s story. The second part of her search is longer but easier because 99 tries to find if 99200 encountered a high rank who could have tampered with its memories. Unfortunately, the encounter happened before the underground fire so there are more suspects in 2119 and 3012, although those two haven’t shown any hints of treason.

Ah hah!

99200’s mind responds to another mental query about the topic by releasing the most recent memory.

***

At the edge of rumbler territory, 99200 meets 2119 who warns the drone about the area and tells it to go home for its own safety. 99200 is nervous to its hooves, but happy the encounter ends peacefully.

***

WAIT!

99200 pauses.

Why would 99200 be scared for its life when meeting 2119? The gate sentries are the two ranked changelings with whom the drones haven’t had any trouble? Exactly the opposite, in fact, considering that the infiltrator was their referee during the big snow game.

It would be impossible to explain to a non-changeling how 99 finds the following inconsistency in the drone’s memory, but the best way would be that the hive link identity of the changeling 99200 met feels ‘blurred’.

“Voice, can you sense any inconsistency about the memory I’m examining right now?”

“Strange. The record of this encounter that’s stored in the drone section of the hive mind doesn’t show 99200 meeting 2119 but 838.”

“You store drone memories there?”

“Everything that’s not a routine occurrence gets stored there. It’s my job to filter what to keep and in what form and what to discard. I know how much 10k doesn’t trust ranked changelings in general and why, so I wanted to record a situation where a high rank warned a drone to avoid it getting harmed as a proof that 10k can call upon when it feels overwhelmed. It’s full of doubt that times aren’t changing enough. Let me connect the stored memory to 99200.”

The drone blinks, unaware what exactly changed in its head, but its mind corrects the tampered memory on its own while 99 is watching.

838 was nice to 99200 to put the drone at ease and make changing its memories easier! He’s still a mid-rank warrior, so a perfect change was out of his skill level. This also casts a lot of doubt on how the encounter with 415 really went and what his motivation is.

“I wish I could just read 65536’s mind and confirm the encounter went the way 99200 recalls it.”

“Is that a problem?” asks Voice.

“I’m too attached to my brain staying on the inside of my skull. The spell in 65536’s head can kill.”

“But 65536 can let you in if need be. The protection spell is sort of ‘smart’ and 65536 can show you some of its recent memories without triggering it.”

“WHAT?”

“You didn’t know that?”

“Obviously not!”

“65536 is asleep, but if speed is of the essence, I can just contact it through 99380.”

“Please, do.”

Minutes pass as the two sit silently in the tunnel, the drone listening to inaudible music and 99 repeatedly rewatching the unedited memory of the encounter between 99200, 65536, and the conspirators.

So, the idea was to implicate 2119, which means that it’s likely he’s not involved and wasn’t one of the changelings 99200 met. This makes me wish so much that we didn’t all look the same. This possibly rules out 3012 too. Maybe they’re not involved because the traitors didn’t consider them powerful enough to be useful or constantly too close to the Queen for their strange mental protection to work.

As she’s silently thinking, 99 realizes one thing and asks:

“Voice, can you hear me think? You could last time.”

“The Queen told me not to do that for ranked changelings. I can only react to the speech you use your hive link for.”

99 breathes out in relief.

Oh thank holes!

“Good to hear that. I’m used to having at least some modicum of privacy. Anyway, thank you for all the help so far. I’ll call you if I need you again,” 99 pauses, “Can I repay you in some way? I don’t really even know what you are other than a hive mind entity. Do drone-like hive mind entities like sweets too?” she clutches at a familiar straw.

“Don’t worry about it, 99,” replies Voice with a chuckle, “Fixing 99200’s memory and bringing this peculiar situation to light is enough of a reward, although now that I know 838 warped 99200’s memory I think I’ll remove the encounter from the extra storage. I’m not about to distort the truth.”

“You are one of a kind.”

“As far as I know, that’s technically correct. The best kind of correct.”

99 chuckles out loud, making 99200 open its eyes and blink. Despite the abundance of resources the drones enjoy these days, there’s still the lingering instinct that tells them to shut down and do nothing when there’s nothing to do.

“I’m not about to delay you any longer, 99200,” 99 pats the drone’s head and then boops its nose when its tongue involuntarily pops out of its mouth, “Thank you, and have a safe shift.”

“Bye, 99,” the drone still has no clue what all this was about, but it fulfilled 99’s request to her satisfaction and that’s all that matters. Time to resume digging. What would be a good song to get pumped up with?

“99380, gimme The Lunar Path, please,” decides 99200, and a drumbeat accompanied by a cello starts playing.

Author's Note

Whoever can get the song reference gets sent a virtual hug from a drone of their choice.

Power of perseverance: 4

99066 is standing in front of 10k, unsure why exactly.

The drone leader recalled it back to the High Score Cavern during worky time without stating a reason, only that its workload would be finished by someone else. Considering that its today’s assignment was digging, someone was going to be a very happy drone come breaky time.

10k is pacing -well, shuffling- back and forth, looking for a good way to say what it wants to. In theory, it can just send 99066 on any assignment, no questions allowed, but that’s “old rules” thinking, and if a drone is about to be asked to go on a deadly mission, it deserves to know the risks and the reason why.

Before speaking, the drone leader looks around. With the exception of 99318, its leg in 57999’s healing goop cast, sleeping off a fetlock crushed by a falling loose boulder, there’s no one in the HSC. It takes a deep breath.

“99066, I called you here because you’re the fastest of the quicktrotters. That doesn’t just mean you have the best legs, but also that you can plan ahead as well as think on the fly if something goes wrong. I have a mission for you, and I want to be clear about this part, which you are allowed to refuse. If you do, I will ask the other quicktrotters later, and if all of you refuse I won’t force you, I’ll just...” 10k pauses, “Look, I did a bad thing, and I can’t undo it on my own. That’s part of why I wasn’t able to heal myself for such a long time. You can help me, personally, as well as all drones to improve our circumstances.”

“You’re being really vague,” comments 99066.

“I’m sorry. I have to be.”

I’ve gotten away with lying to the Queen. That’s not the kind of thinking I want to spread among drones. That’s the part no one needs to know, with the exception of the few who already do. 57999 and 65536 know how thin of a line the dronekind is walking along in regard to the top ranks’ trust is, and they understand why there shouldn’t even be a notion that lying about important things is viable, and 99380 is a good drone and won’t spread my story.

“Okay,” 99066 shrugs, “It’s not like I’ll say no if it helps you and everyone else, but I still don’t know what you want me to do.”

“99856 and 99111 created a weapon that might be able to kill a rumbler, and we need to test it.”

“I don’t think there are words to overstate how much IN I am,” 99066 grins, “Why were you so worried?”

“As I said, it will be incredibly dangerous,” 10k shakes its head, “The weapon is a melty the rumbler needs to bite into, and someone needs to get it into position, lure the rumbler to it, and make it bite.”

“Oh…” it clicks for 99066, “I’m the bait.”

“Yes,” 10k doesn’t sugarcoat it, “We’ve come up with two things to help you get in and out alive. The first one is a silencing hoof transformation,” 10k shares a hive mind reference mark with 99066.

The quicktrotter tries the transformation out and takes a couple of experimental, bouncy steps.

“It’s an easy transformation. Running with it will take some getting used to. If I could do a couple practice trots in various tunnels before the real deal, I’d know what I’m working with.”

“That’s the problem here. I need you to do it today -that means between now and next worky time- because the longer we take the higher the chance of my body breaking up again, and I’d like our success to be a Hard Swarming present for the Queen. That might make her more lenient about what I did.”

“Oooooh,” 99066 nods, “That’s a great idea! Plus the ‘not breaking down’ part is good too. Maybe we can ask Shiny Nose to give her some presents too. I know that 65536 said she gives presents only to drones, but maybe we can give the Queen some of the presents we get,” 99066 smiles excitedly before reminding itself that the mission comes first. Still, it’s definitely feeling pumped up now, “So what’s the other thing to make the plan less dangerous?”

“99856 managed to make a new version of the emergency cocoon, but we only have the one and it’s never been tested. It should be sturdier than the one we’re using now but, more importantly, the rumbler melty shouldn’t do anything to it. My idea is that in case you don’t make it far enough for the rumbler to miss you, the emergency cocoon should protect you from both the bite and the melty. The response team has moved the melty to the area and will wait nearby in case you need help, but how much help they’ll be able to provide entirely depends on how things go. I’ll say it openly - if the rumbler misses the melty and eats just you, there’s nothing anyone will be able to do to help. If the rumbler eats both you and the melty and the melty turns out to be too weak, no one will help you. Even if everything works, the rumbler dies, and you get eaten too, it might take too long to get to you.”

99066 takes a deep breath before simply asking:

“Anything else?”

“I will be connected to you through 99380, same with the response team. Voice helped me bundle all the information for the plan in section d-f55e-q1 and you’ll get optimized access to it so that there’s no delay before you know anything you need.”

99066 nods.

“I still think I should do some practice trotting with the new hooves. I can’t afford to trip at any point. The more practice I can pull off, the safer I’ll be.”

10k taps its hoof on the floor.

“I think I can scrounge up love for an extra recharge without asking the Queen. Everyone else is who knows where- WAIT!” it shuffles off to its stash and grabs the tooth that 99 let it take a couple days earlier. There’s still enough love inside it to give a drone a decent recharge. Giving it to 99066, it adds, “Take this. Once you’re tired from your practice and steady on your new hooves, take a brief rest, and eat it.”

“A high rank’s tooth?” 99066’s eyes go wide.

“It’s 99’s. She lost it while sparring with 387.”

99066 stashes it into a leg hole.

“I’ll be going then and I’ll check the hive mind on the way. If I have any questions about the plan, I’ll link up.”

“Good luck, buddy,” 10k gives the quicktrotter a hug, “I’m proud of you, and I don’t doubt that High Score would be too. ”

Because I have a long way to go before it could be proud of me again.

***

99066’s practice runs went well, it even discovered that it had to reinforce its armor around its fetlocks to remain steady on the spongy, silenced hooves. Afterwards, the snack in the form of 99’s tooth gave it not just a recharge, but what felt like an overcharge.

Now, brimming with energy and, if the drone knew what the word centered means it would be that, the quicktrotter approaches 99112, 99158, and 99911 who have been waiting all this time near the known edge of the rumbler territory with a full barrel of 99856’s cleaning goop. All three members of the response team are, for drones, heavily armed with green goop balls stuck inside every leg hole available. Hopefully, none of them trips at any point.

“I’m here, 10k,” reports 99066 through a long-range hive link connection provided by 99380. In response, the three rescue drones link up as well.

“99112 will be watching directly through your eyes. I wish I could do that too, but the fewer drones are linked up, the less of a drain it’ll be for you and you’ll need all the love you have. You know best how every fraction of a second matters.”

“If things go wrong and if there’s any chance to help you, we’ll be there as quickly as we can trot,” says 99112, patting 99066 on the back, “Load it up, buds.”

Nothing else needs to be said. 99158 and 99911 put the heavy barrel on 99066’s back, the quicktrotter takes a deep breath, transforms its hooves again, and finally heads off into the darkness.

It’s cleaning time!

***

For the first time in 99066’s admittedly brief life, the tunnels don’t feel like home. Granted, potential danger has always been lurking behind every dug-through wall, but that was different thanks to the layer of safety provided by the emergency cocoons as well as the knowledge that someone would come to help in case of trouble. Right now, that assurance is gone. The cocoon might not work, the help might not come. On top of that, no plan survives the first contact, and the heavy barrel on the drone’s back is lowering the dampening ability of the muffled hooves significantly.

Is this how drones felt all the time under the old rules, while low on love on top of that?

99066 realizes it’s trembling, and it’s definitely not from any level of exhaustion. Despite brimming with love, it feels small, weak, and fragile.

Calm down, 99066, it’s just another trot, only the rules have changed a bit. You’ve run longer routes with eggs on your back, and you’ve done so outside of the rebuilt tunnels as well. This is nothing new. Sure, the barrel is a LOT heavier. Sure, you can feel the ground shake so you know a rumbler is nearby. Sure, you’re far from safe-

Where was I going with this?

Oh, right. It’s just another trot, another sequence of precise steps. You’ve done this hundreds of times before.

Approaching the area designated for the bait, 99066 tries to derail its gloomy train of thought by checking the hive mind map in detail.

10k picked the perfect spot. A large cavern with three tunnels leading out of it in a Y shape. The cavern is tall enough so that if the rumbler comes from below I can fly up and if it comes from above I have some time to get moving. Each tunnel has paths branching out of it, although not all will be easy to run in. The guys from the response team snuck through the tunnels beforehoof so we know they haven’t collapsed since the last time a drone was digging there. 10k is the top drone for a very good reason.

99066 puts the barrel down at the center of the cavern and returns its hooves into their original shape. For a few moments, it just stands there, breathing and still trembling. Its perked up ears are detecting no noise, there’s nothing other than complete darkness around, which only serves to enhance the remaining senses. The air isn’t moving, the uneven floor is cold under its hooves, but not as cold as the floor in the HSC, and the whole place smells faintly of moss.

This isn’t going to get better if I wait. No reason to waste any more time.

Gritting its teeth, 99066 stomps the floor. The sharp noises echo and briefly deafen it after so long in silence.

This time, it’s the ground that shakes.

99066 jumps around the barrel a couple more times while dust starts falling from the ceiling as the shaking grows more violent. With a final tap of hoof against the ground, the drone confirms an ugly truth.

The worst case scenario, it’s coming directly from below.

To give itself the most time to react, it flies up to the ceiling. The downside of this is that it’ll have to get back on the ground afterwards, and changeling wings are made for maneuverability, not speed, so it’ll take just that tiny bit longer to get out of here. In a situation where every extra second is a coin toss between life and death, the fifty-fifty tosses 99066 needs to win in a row are stacking.

The ground breaks with a deafening explosion of noise and a circular mouth full of drone-sized teeth opens, swallowing the barrel whole. How can something of this size move so quickly through the uneven underground mix of solid rock, gravel, and gaps is beyond both drone understanding and, frankly, caring.

Faced with the grinding and breaking of its entire world, 99066 freezes and its vision blurs even before the dust rises. For once, though, survival instinct does a good job, and 99066 blasts forwards to the first tunnel mouth it can see.

The rumbler is too big to follow the flying drone, possibly it can’t even sense it up in the air, but that doesn’t matter. The ongoing environmental destruction proves dangerous enough as, while 99066 dodges falling debris caused by the rumbler grinding upwards through the ceiling, the scatter of large rocks from below shotguns 99066 upwards.

The drone bounces off of the cavern’s breaking top, stunned by the double impact, and crashes down on the floor near the chosen escape tunnel.

Every second is a fifty-fifty. A second passes.

99066 gasps for air, its eyes bulging, and almost automatically scrambles to its hooves and runs.

Every second is a fifty-fifty. A second passes.

The grinding starts closing in again.

99066 notices that it forgot to shapeshift its hooves for smooth running.

Round two begins, but this time the quicktrotter has nowhere to dodge.

Every second is a fifty-fifty, and the drone finally loses one. The smooth ‘front’ of the rumbler unfolds into a mouth again, making 99066 trip over the ground crumbling under its hooves.

With a hiss, the green emergency cocoon, tinted rusty red by 99856’s reinforcing material and fueled by 99066’s love, engulfs the drone. The forced hibernation doesn’t knock 99066 out quickly enough, and it feels the cocoon crack and the giant tooth crush it from the right hip down. Thankfully, the adrenaline overload and shock kick in, and the quicktrotter barely feels more than pressure before everything fades.

There is no sensation of time passing.

Something is pulling at its forelegs.

Everything hurts. Is that good? That must be good.

Pain means that 99066 still exists.

The drone’s body awakening from the brief hibernation instinctively drains the nearest source of love, which is the cocoon.

99066 gasps and opens its eyes.

“It’s alive!” squee’s 99112.

“Cracked all over but alive!” 99158 joins in.

“Gentlyyyy…” adds 99911, digging away the remains of rumbler’s mouth and teeth still around 99066.

The pulling finally works.

“Ooof, that leg looks bad, but it’s still attached and that counts,” comments 99911 from behind.

“Hi… guys…” 99066 whispers, “Rum… bler…?”

“Deeefinitely doing worse than you are,” 99112 beams, “Not much left of it other than what looks like its outer scales. 99856’s goop cleaned everything even remotely squishy, it seems.”

“99066 one, rumbler zero!” cheers 99158.

“99066, you won,” 10k voice rings through the quicktrotter’s head along with a breath of relief.

With that finally confirming that this is not just some weird, last gasp of 99066’s psyche calming it down before death, the drone passes out again.

Author's Note

I have to somehow get drones to make alcohol for celebrations and stuff.
Oh well, maybe in some other book.
Note to self - don't mark it as a sequel, that kills readership. From now on, everything is standalone!

Power of perseverance: 5

“10k, are you trying my patience?” Chrysalis looks down from the throne when the drone leader enters the throne room, “I distinctly recall giving 65536 the permission to set a binding schedule for you and nowhere in there does it say to go to the throne room. I think there’s even a stipulation somewhere that 387 will go down to your cavern and listen to your reports until you’re allowed to walk this far again.”

“At worst, I can link up and relay a message,” adds 156, casually sparring against 387 under the throne. Neither of the two seem particularly invested in winning the fight, it’s just something to occupy their hooves and practice their muscle memory while their minds are elsewhere.

“I counted the distance I’m allowed to walk today. It’s enough to walk my way here,” says 10k.

This makes 156 and 387 stop, because both are smart enough to understand that, in the case of an old drone like 10k, it’s not just a poor choice of words. 10k didn’t count the steps back to the HSC. As the drone stops under the throne, they flank it, one from each side.

“Say your piece,” says Chrysalis.

“Your Majesty, I used my privilege and lied to you, 156, and 387 about why I wanted Smiley to leave-”

Everyone listens in silence while 10k recounts what it already told 65536 during the surgery about wanting Smiley to have a better life and about using the death of 47989 to give her the chance. While 10k can’t sense anything, it’s one hundred percent sure that its mind is now being probed for lies by all three changelings present.

“-I understand that I broke the trust I was given and the privacy privilege I, 156, and 387 earned. No other drone was involved in making that decision, and the only ones who know what I did are those whom I told about it during the surgery - 3012, 57999, 65536, and 99380.”

Its mind reading suspicion is confirmed when Chrysalis says:

“And you successfully used the new drone weapons to kill a rock worm, a pest that had been an insurmountable obstacle to the hive’s function since the hive moved here, and a reason why I had to abandon the idea of sending you drones to dig out what you naively call the crusher. You think that will make me more lenient about your lie.”

10k nods. To its surprise, though, Chrysalis’ following question takes a different direction.

“Tell me one thing, 10k. Drones have been creating numerous weapons recently. Killing a rock worm aside, I read in your mind that you’ve been toying with equipping drones in general with a new magnesium explosive. All the new things are weapons which, with some planning, can be used to change the power structure of the hive. I know both 99111 and 99856 have no clue what they’re doing and are doing research for research's sake, but you are the one who knows how bad things were… and how bad they can be again. If the ‘old rules’ returned, whether it be by me being deposed or by sheer necessity due to times changing again, would you use the weapons against ranked changelings? Answer in full.”

Everyone waits until 10k formulates an answer that it feels is accurate and complete enough.

“I… wouldn’t want to, but I can’t say no. I would do all I can to help as many drones as possible to flee the hive peacefully and find their place outside. If high ranks tried to prevent them from leaving, I’d use anything at my disposal to get them out and say they died while working. No drone deserves the life that the dwindling few of us had,” 10k looks the Queen in the eyes with an unusual fire burning deep within that stare, “And no hive that would force us to live like that again deserves even a single drone.”

With just the tiniest twitch of the corner of her mouth, Chrysalis’s eyes flick towards 387 and back at the drone. Unnoticed by either of those two, 156 cracks a quick smile and winks at the Queen.

“I know full well that mercy to traitors is cancer that will eventually devour its host, but what would you do with a borderline case like this one, 156?” asks Chrysalis.

“The drones lost any right to privacy, that’s clear, but controlling their development and the output of their work seems far more useful than returning to using them as miners, no matter how perfectly suited for the job they are. I may even know of a couple ranked changelings who could do exactly that, doubly so because they’re being sent out on supply missions and returning with pony knowledge the drones could make use of.”

“Are you suggesting that ranked changelings join drones as researchers?”

“Different minds have different ideas and points of view,” 156 shrugs, “We would need to make sure that drones’ opinions don’t get ignored, but in the long run I believe we could all benefit from the easier oversight, cooperation, and giving ranked changelings something interesting to do between missions.”

“387?” Chrysalis nods towards the warrior, “Got anything to add?”

“Agreed, but delay it, Big Floaty,” replies the warrior, “The last thing we need is to give unrestricted and uncontrolled access to the production and use of drone bombs to potentially untrustworthy parties.”

10k kind of gets the feeling that this conversation hasn’t been about it for a while now.

“Good point,” the Queen nods, “156, carry 10k off downstairs. As tempted as I am to punish it by making it walk back, I promised 65536 I would stick to the recovery schedule, and what sort of a ruler would I be if I didn’t honor my word- don’t dare to even open your mouth, 387.”

“Mhmmhhmhm…” the warrior raises an eyebrow at her, mumbling wordlessly.

“Come on, you traitorous little revolutionary,” 156 picks 10k up and puts it on her back, “The Queen, of course, expects you to not pull shit like this ever again. Think of it this way - when we formed this little ‘council’, the four of us decided to trust each other so that we don’t always have to keep looking over our shoulder for others trying to stab us in the back, and the first one who did that weren’t the infiltrators, weren’t the warriors, wasn’t the power-hungry Queen -just using the previous you as an example, Your Majesty- but the drones.”

10k freezes, 156’s words biting deep despite their cautious warmth.

“387, when you have some free time, punch 156 with your mouth for such insubordination,” says Chrysalis dryly.

“I’ll try to fit her into my busy schedule,” 387 nods.

10k has no idea what happens next, because 156 leaves the throne room, and her comfortable back softly shifting up and down as she walks puts the physically and mentally exhausted drone leader to sleep.

***

The, technically, third day on the Las Pegasus Express passed without anything worth mentioning. With Smiley unable to effectively communicate, she stayed in the dining car and resorted to tackling the rest of the mysterious newspaper between meals, which she managed with the help of steward Coltsy who stopped by whenever he had some time. 99999 didn’t want to spend time away from Smiley at first, but when one member of the band stopped by and offered the drone a harmonica lesson, and when Smiley didn’t object, the course for the day was clear. Eventually, by late afternoon, the two changelings regrouped at their table in the passenger car on the information that the Express would be entering Las Pegasus soon and the crew would be busy.

The train starts slowing down as it finally reaches its destination. This time, however, it doesn’t come as a surprise to the two changelings already glued to the window and watching the city of multicolored shinies, both smiling from ear to ear in pure amazement as countless flashing signs reflect off of their blue eyes.

The intercom crackles.

“Welcome to Las Pegasus, our destination. We will be stopping shortly, and then you will have thirty minutes to disembark before the train departs for the depot. Thank you for choosing the Las Pegasus Express,” announces the conductor.

“Gasp! So many ponies everywhere!” exclaims 99999 when the platform comes into view, “And they’re wearing stuff! Look, Smiley, that mare has a thingy on her head that looks like a floppy head muncher! That one has a fluffy neck thingy that looks like a fuzzy wriggler. And that one has red eyes over her eyes and-”

By now, the other passengers are used to the changeling losing control and raising its voice in excitement. In some of the old passengers’ eyes, now that the alien bug monster factor is gone, the little drone’s joy is refreshing to see. Smiley is similar, although in her case it’s just her eyes following 99999’s pointing hoof with a dropped jaw, while her own foreleg keeps repeatedly reaching for her neck where her tablet still decidedly isn’t. For once, though, the new and extremely shiny world overrides all her worries coupled with the knowledge that despite all the hurdles the duo had to overcome, their mission is almost over.

As the train slows to a halt and the passengers are packing their things, Coltsy stops by the changelings’ table for one final time. The two, possessing only their two shoddy backpacks, are ready to go.

“I just wanted to say goodbye to you two and give you this,” he says, throwing a large sack from his back onto the table and opening it, revealing several fully packed, quality travel saddlebags, “These belonged to the ponies who tried to rob the train. I know it’s a bit morbid but you do look like you could use them. We originally wanted to give those to the Las Pegasus police, but in reality they’d just end up gathering dust in a locker somewhere. There’s a full train of witnesses and with the exception of the pegasus who fled and the dead leader we have all of them under lock and key so I doubt the bags will be particularly necessary as evidence. We went through the contents and there are travelling supplies, tools, and some bits in there. All we took was the hoof cannon and all spare ammo because that thing is insanely illegal and the police will surely want to know who is smuggling these into Equestria from the Empire.”

Without hesitation, 99999 grabs a pair, entirely ignoring any kind of moral dilemma. After all, it’s a drone, and one old rule has survived until today - a stash of a dead drone is a stash of all drones… or 10000’s. 10000 has the last word. Of course, 10000 isn’t here, which means a thing given is a thing kept.

“These are so sturdy!” it carefully bites the leather harness connecting the saddlebags, “It looks like it could survive most kinds of bitey biters back home! Smiley, grab the other two! Uhhh… how do you put these on?” it starts examining Coltsy who has a similar pair on his sides, “Hmmm…”

While Smiley has more experience seeing ponies wearing saddlebags, buckles are still a mystery, so despite her putting on the harness correctly, the straps that go under her barrel remain hanging from her sides until Coltsy offers to help.

“I can fasten those for you.”

“Yes, please!” 99999 nods, and the pony quickly tightens the saddlebag harness around the drone’s carapace. For someone so small, the two bags are almost as wide as its barrel but the drone doesn’t seem to mind whatsoever.

As Coltsy moves to help Smiley, she shakes her head and slowly does it herself, turning around for the pony to check before stopping with a quizzical expression.

“Looks all good. Well done. Now, will you be okay without your tablet? The Express will set out on the return trip tomorrow, so if you need help and can wait, I’ll be off work in an hour or two and I can help you find a new one. It’s Las Pegasus, someone’s bound to be selling blackboards around here.”

Smiley looks at 99999 and makes a circle and two lines with her hoof. It takes the drone a moment to get but it does so.

“We don’t know if we have time. We gotta check when the train to San Palomino leaves first. I’m getting better at figuring out what Smiley is trying to say, so I think we’ll be okay. All we need is a ticket and we can just wait for the train somewhere.”

“That’s good to hear,” Coltsy smiles, “Nothing else left but to wish you good luck then.”

“You too, Mister Coltsy. Thank you for being so nice to us all this time,” 99999 beams at the steward and so does Smiley while adding a little wave.

Author's Note

A short part this time, and the rest of the chapter will be like that too. The reason is that I've finished the story and I don't know what to do next, so I'm giving myself a buffer.

Power of perseverance: 6

Standing outside on the platform and with all the new and unknown equipment at their disposal, the two changelings are bound to have a way to kill time once all the important things have been taken care of. As usual, the first order of business is to find some kind of a ticket booth. However, the Las Pegasus train station is larger than any they’ve seen before and all the booths in view seem to be somehow related to pony food and drinks, at least based on pictures and the few written words they can understand. Smiley’s recent experience with studying the dining car menu comes in handy and saves them time that would otherwise be wasted by asking what all the stands and booths are for. What’s even more puzzling, though, are the vastly higher prices for things that both changelings recall seeing before in Ponyville.

“That’s a lot of extra shinies,” comments 99999, “Maybe it's for more noms?”

Smiley shrugs and shakes her foreleg where a used ticket is stuck in the knee gap of her carapace.

“Eh, you’re right,” the drone nods, “New tickets first.”

Changelings are nothing if not methodical, and that’s true even for drones when they’re not under pressure. On top of that, an interesting place like this needs every nook and cranny explored, so the real danger isn’t the drones not finding the ticket office, rather them getting stuck following an endless trail of shiny distractions. Throughout the following twenty minutes, the two map out the train station and discover that there are six platforms in total, three for incoming trains and three for departing ones, marked “Southport-Klugetown”, “Manehattan-Canterlot”, and “Maretime Bay-Ponyville”. More importantly, they also discover that there is a ticket office by the train station entrance and successfully purchase two tickets. Despite worries about the price after all they’ve seen so far, the tickets are much more in line with their experience from their previous stops. Now armed with both tickets and the knowledge of clocks, the changelings know the San Palomino train leaves in four hours at eleven o’clock at night.

“Very smart, sending the trains out through sleepy time,” comments 99999 as the two leave the office.

Smiley circles her hoof in the air repeatedly while shaking her head. This takes the drone some time to decipher while the two find the nearest empty bench.

“Oh, I think I get it. If it’s sleepy time for ponies, then who is making the train go? Maybe it’s sleepy time just for some ponies and the ponies for whom it is worky time keep the train going?”

Smiley rubs her chin and slowly nods. 99999 silently watches the ponies milling around for a couple minutes before it takes its main backpack off and sticks its head into it.

“We have a bunch of shinies left over from the drinking game and a lot of time before our train gets here, how about we try out some new noms?” it offers.

Smiley shrugs and gives a single nod. It sounds like a good way to spend time.

Passing by stall after stall, 99999 isn’t sure what to pick. All the pictures look, if not appetizing, then at least interesting, and it quickly gets into the cycle of wanting everything but being held back by its available budget. Eventually, though, Smiley stops in front of a colorful stand where a mare is using a large metal spoon to fill paper bags with some tiny thingies, and points to the first word of “Sweet Paradise” written above the counter.

“You want this one?” asks 99999.

Smiley points at the drone.

“I want this one?”

*Nod nod nod.*

Once the current customer leaves, 99999 flies up to be face to face with the stall mare, several randomly selected coins in hoof.

“What’ll it be?” she asks, and for the first time during their trip there’s no hesitation in the voice of somepony meeting a changeling.

“I don’t know what any of these noms are. Can I get some of each?” 99999 waves its hoof vaguely towards metal vats full of different candy each.

“One large mix coming up. That’ll be twenty-six bits,” says the mare, proving both that she can read the excited drone as well as her business acumen, and, without waiting, starts filling up a bag the size of Smiley's head. 99999 floats down, fiddles with its backpack, and eventually fishes out the right coinage before putting it on the counter. The mare counts it off, nods, and gives the drone its bag, “Here you go.”

“Thank you, Miss pony!” 99999 takes the bag into its mouth and the changeling duo find a free bench once again.

“You’re welcome, tiny changeling,” replies the mare without much interest in her voice.

Smiley waits for 99999 to have the first pick because it was the one to do the trade, and it takes a couple moments for the drone to decide between so many options. Eventually, it settles on a green ball covered in white dots and shudders after it puts it in its mouth.

“Eeee! It pops and crackles! Sour- sweet- aaaaah!” it covers its mouth with its hooves but despite the surprise, it doesn’t stop grinning and rolling the ball in its mouth, and tilts the bag towards Smiley who examines it and picks the first green candy she can reach because it reminds her of the hive. No need to rush or get picky. After all, the bag is big and they have a long time to wait, so they’ll be able to taste every single nom for as long as it lasts. She shudders as a sudden cold sensation caused by the candy spreads into her neck as she breathes in and then out through her nose.

Both changelings focus on the strange and new tastes in their mouths, and let the world around them shift and move as trains and colorful passengers come and go. The train station has a tall, glass roof, and is so big that neither of the two have anything to compare it with, easily dwarfing both the throne room as well as the High Score Cavern. On top of the liveliness, it’s also warm -at least by drone standards, which means that most ponies are wearing at least something light- and the air is fresh. All in all, a great place to peacefully spend time.

That is until, without hearing any approaching hoofsteps, a soft yet sinister sounding voice behind them asks:

“Well well, what could two little drones be doing so far away from home?”

Both changelings turn around, only to see a rather feminine, silver-maned, male infiltrator whose link they can’t sense despite him standing right in front of them. 99999 reflexively meeps under the scrutinizing stare, but raises the candy bag in both offering and self-defense. The infiltrator takes a random piece and eats it.

“A yogurt-filled jelly. Homemade, fresh, and delicious,” he looks around, eyes briefly stopping on the nearby candy stall before he focuses on Smiley whose reaction is rather strange for a changeling who lived under the old rules.

The faintly-striped changeling mare is sitting still with the exception of her neck outstretched towards the infiltrator while tilting her head from side to side to get a better look at him. In response, the infiltrator boops her, making her recoil in surprise, with:

“The stripes are new. Anyway, back to business. You’ve arrived later than expected, how much time do you have before you have to leave?”

With Smiley busy scrunching her nose at the infiltrator, 99999 shows him its ticket.

“Still over three hours. That should be enough,” he comments, “Come with me.”

While 99999 reflexively obeys and hops down from the bench, Smiley suddenly gasps and pounces at the infiltrator, wrapping her forelegs around his neck with her hind legs still on the bench. The drone blinks in surprise and backs off, but the infiltrator smiles, returns the hug, and pats Smiley’s head until she lets go again.

“Whoah,” 99999 keeps staring with eyes wide, “Is it okay to touch a high rank? 10k said to never do that without asking first, but…” it points at Smiley.

“A healthy precaution,” says the infiltrator, briefly pointing to the station’s exit, “Walk and talk. Poking later.”

In sharp contrast to the rest of the changeling trip, the outside doesn’t show many signs of winter. It is fairly cold, but the wide street beset by lamps, stores, and full of crowd and noises shows only light dusting of snow, and even that’s rare. As they walk, 99999 doesn’t know what to look at first, but Smiley seems distracted and, after a while, she taps on each changeling to get their attention, leads them a couple steps away to an unbroken patch of snow, points at the infiltrator, and writes down:

[1988 best number friend]

99999 doesn’t know what that means, but it can at least guess that 1988 is the rank of the infiltrator and that Smiley knows him from somewhere and isn’t worried. All good signs.

“I was wondering about how much you remembered,” 1988 smiles, slightly surprised that that’s what Smiley knows him for, “That reminds me, though, you used to have a writing slate, didn’t you? At least that’s what I heard from- well, you’ll see soon enough.”

Smiley points at 99999.

“Oh? Oh, story, right,” the drone starts slowly trotting to keep up as the infiltrator picks up the pace, “We kinda had some trouble on the train-”

The infiltrator smiles to himself. With 99999 recounting the events of the trip so far and Smiley focused on following him, it’s easy to prevent the drones from getting distracted and running off after something shiny. While the events surrounding 99999’s death and rebirth are beyond unique, there’s nothing useful 1988 can do with it, so all he can do is breathe out in relief that the drones made it almost on time and in one piece as the message preceding their arrival expected them to.

They arrive in a small hotel at the edge of the city that’s clearly for the working class and not the tourists, and 1988 leads them into a suite.

“You can take your bags off. You won’t need those for a while and they’ll be safe here,” he says before raising his voice and calling out, “THE GUESTS-”

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

“-ARE HERE!”

Even before the sound of “HERE!” fades a door at the end of a short hallway slams open, and a drone-sized-and-shaped rocket splattered with paints from head to hooves bolts through and launches itself at Smiley.

***

“Owwww…” groans 99066, lying on the floor of High Score cavern, green slimes randomly spread around.

“Sorry,” mutters 57999, hunched over 99066’s crushed body parts, pulling out the shards of the quicktrotter’s carapace from its hind leg and immediately coating the area in healing goop. Thankfully, unlike with 10k’s experimental surgery, 57999 now has an example of what to do, and 99066 is under a heavy dose of agonyslayers. The healer tosses a fragment of a dead, nearly loveless, carapace away, and one of the slimes starts slowly wobbling towards it.

156 walks through the cavern entrance with 10k on her back. With the entrance widened on the Queen’s earlier orders, she doesn’t need to transform whatsoever to fit, and strides directly to the two drones present.

“Did it work? Did the Queen forgive 10k?” croaks 99066, raising its head and shooting a worried look towards the drone leader asleep on 156’s back.

“It’s a little complicated, but I think we nudged the hive towards a better tomorrow,” replies 156 quietly.

“That’s good to hear,” 99066’s leans its head against the floor again.

“And how’s today’s big hero feeling?” the infiltrator smiles.

“Who?”

“You, 99066,” she boops the drone’s nose, “You’re not just the first drone to kill a rock worm but, to my knowledge, the first changeling to do so alone. That’s quite a feat.”

“Yaaay…” moans 99066 weakly.

“Not feeling great then, I take it,” upon querying the hive mind about 10k’s stash, 156 carries the drone leader off to the appropriate floor-level alcove and returns to the drone patient and its doctor, “57999, what do you think? To me, it doesn’t look great.”

“I think all the hard inside bits are where they’re supposed to be. The green, squishy part that’s over those is the problem. Everything is shredded by the crushed carapace. If 99856 didn’t do such a great job making the new, sturdier emergency cocoon, 99066 would have one less leg. Still, I think that if I pull all the shards out and stop the leaking, 99066 will recover. By now, I have some experience with crushed and even broken legs. Usually it takes agonyslayers, aligning all the pieces in the right way, and after that just time, rest, and love.”

“See? You’ll be breaking work time records again in no time,” 156 rubs 99066’s head, “The fabric of space and time as well, if you integrate skips into your quicktrots. Maybe you’ll even get to smite the everliving goop out of another rock worm ag- 99066?” 156 stops mid-word as the drone visibly tenses, its mouth silently opens, and its eyes glaze over.

“S- sorry,” it whispers after a moment.

“Huh?” even 156 is taken aback by the sudden development, “What’s going on?”

“I- I can’t…” the drone starts trembling, “I can’t go… down there… again. I- I- I can’t. Please, don’t send me down there again.”

“Buddy?” 57999 puts a hoof on 99066’s shoulder. The quicktrotter shoots it a terrified look in response. Lost, 57999 looks at 156 who sits down by 99066’s head, moves the head into her lap, and starts stroking it behind the ears.

“Tell me, 99066, how long ago, do you think, we would just send you down to dig again immediately?”

The drone just whimpers. 57999 sighs, knowing the answer.

“It might not be visible down here,” 156 continues, “but it’s not just 10k and 387. We are all doing what we can to make the hive a better place for everyone. When 10k wakes up, I’m sure it’ll find some useful occupation for you up here. We don’t need everyone to always be digging anymore.”

“N- No,” 99066 tries to turn around to look 156 face to face, “I didn’t mean down into the tunnels,” the drone’s voice grows steadier, “I love digging, running, carrying. It’s just-” it grits its teeth when it raises its forelegs in front of its face and they start violently trembling again, “Stop shaking, stupid body!” its voice starts breaking again but it keeps trying to get the message across, “It’s just the rumbler. Every time I recall what happened, I just… my everything just… stops listening to me. Even my head.”

156’s quiet chuckle and renewed stroking stops the drone’s twitching.

“That’s not a problem at all. I know some ‘high ranks’ who could use a way to kill time while off-mission. Hunting down critical threats to the hive sounds like just the team-building activity for them,” she looks at 57999, “When 10k wakes up, tell it about 99066’s trauma to make sure it doesn’t try to repeat today’s success. Now that we have a reliable weapon, we’ll get rid of the rock worms together, and we’ll reopen the way to the reconstitution chamber one day.”

57999 sighs again but doesn’t say anything.

Why is the Crusher so important?

Power of perseverance: 7

99999 watches Smiley get tackled to the floor, more puzzled than worried, because the excited, paint-covered changeling who’s just charged her is distinctly drone-shaped. The hug lasts until 1988 clears his throat and says:

“I know you’ve missed her, 20100, but give her some space to breathe.”

The now identified drone jumps off and lets Smiley return to all fours. Moments later, the hive links of all present changelings connect openly and they finally recognize each other in full.

“99999, I don’t think we’ve met before,” 20100 smiles at the other drone.

“I hatched -uhh, how do ponies say it- about two weeks ago? I think that’s the right amount of worky times- wait, no, it’s more now,” 99999 rubs its head.

“Doesn’t matter,” 20100 waves its hoof dismissively, “It’s nice to meet a newbie outside the hive. What brings you here?”

“A huge moving box on wheels that ponies made called a train,” explains 99999, “It was big, there was a car full of noms, they had tunes- wait, didn’t you ride one on the way here too?”

“Yes, we did, but that's not what I meant,” 20100 nods, “Why are you here?”

99999 points at 1988.

“We were waiting for a train to San Palomino and he told us to come with him.”

“Wow! What and where is that?” 20100 looks at the infiltrator too.

“It’s a desert south of here. What 99999 means is that they’re headed to a small city -large town, really- on its northern edge which is called Northern San Palomino,” he elaborates and points at the various bags the visitors left by the door, “These two look more than well equipped for the rest of the journey, but we can still show them around the city, right?”

“Ah!” 20100 jumps on the spot, “Smiley, what happened to your tablet? Can you talk for real now?”

Smiley shakes her head and starts gesticulating so wildly that 20100 has no clue what any of it might mean.

“It got broken in a fight, believe it or not,” 1988 steps in before 99999 can start repeating the train ambush story, “How about we look around the merchant part of the town for someone who can get us a piece of chalkboard?”

“Oh no!” 20100 gasps, “I mean yes to going out and finding Smiley a new tablet, but oh no to the fight! What happened?”

99999 opens its mouth.

“99999 can repeat the story on the way,” says 1988, “We don’t want to risk having Smiley leave Las Pegasus without a way to communicate, do we?”

99999 closes its mouth.

“Good,” the infiltrator nods, “Go wash up, 20100, you look like an abstract painting yourself. The sooner you do, the sooner you’ll get to hear the story. In the meantime, I’ll feed our two courageous travellers as it seems that love is the one thing they haven’t managed to refill on yet.”

In a burst of green fire, 20100 burns away the top layer of its carapace and looks good as new.

“Done! No time for washing.”

“At least dust yourself off then,” adds 1988, knowing how much of a mess the transformation entails. When 20100 tenses up to shake itself off like a dog, the infiltrator raises his voice, “OUTSIDE.”

“Ah, right!” 20100 nods, and the group leave.

***

1988 leads the group along the outer edge of Las Pegasus, avoiding the tourist center of the city. While they walk, 99999 recaps the story of their whole trip from the Badlands, and the infiltrator notices that it’s slightly different from the version he heard before. It’s not that the drone is deliberately changing it, but while it was talking to the infiltrator only, the story was more matter-of-fact, while now that it’s retelling it to another drone, there are way more excited tangents relating to drone life, detailed descriptions of unimportant stuff, and way more wild gesticulation. 1988 doesn’t mind. It makes the story harder to follow, but it keeps everyone from getting distracted by the occasional shiny sign even in this part of the city.

“So you got your head exploded somehow, and then you re-hatched?” asks 20100 in a genuinely impressed tone, “That’s super useful. I wish all drones had this kind of power.”

Smiley rapidly nods.

“It doesn’t feel that great when the fresh egg isn’t finished. I’m kinda hungry all the time, even if I’m not hungry hungry. It’s tough to explain,” says 99999, “This reminds me that I forgot to start making a new one after 1988 fed us.”

“I wonder,” 1988 joins in, “Is the original 99999 dead and you a copy with some older version of its memories, or are you really always connected to your egg and basically have your own tiny hive mind?”

“Uhhhhhh…” is 99999’s best guess, “I think I recall everything? It all fits with what the train crew told me happened between when I died and hatched again.”

“Incredible,” 1988 nods, impressed, “I’m starting to get jealous that drones have the good changeling stuff and higher classes don’t - digging, conditional immortality, all that jazz.”

“That’s why the Queen sent me on this trip. When I got eaten in the tunnels during worky time and re-hatched later, 10000 examined me, we did some tests, remade my egg, and then it showed me to the Queen. She’s really big! And kinda spooky.”

“That she is,” agrees the infiltrator.

“Then the Queen said she needed someone durable to repay a debt and that I’ll be sent away to live in a nice place elsewhere,” for the first time during the conversation, 99999’s happy tone fades a little, “I’m curious but I miss home- the hive. ‘s not a home anymore…” it mumbles in the end before perking up, “Hey, since you knew we were coming, do you know where we’re going?”

“I don’t,” 1988 shakes his silver-maned head, “The order preceding your arrival only said to expect you and help you if needed. I have no idea why the Queen would be sending you to Northern San Palomino.”

“I think I do,” 20100 beams, “Come to think about it, Smiley might know too, but if it’s supposed to be a surprise, I’m not ruining it.”

“Interesting. I’d like to hear that theory after our friends here leave,” 1988 raises an eyebrow before his eyes lock on a house with ‘Everything Workshop’ written above the door, “Excellent. This should be the place. It’s way past closing time, but I know the owner lives in the back part of the store and if she’s not outside we have the bits to pay for the extra service.”

After some doorbell ringing, a frowning mare opens the door. One hushed conversation followed by some jingling of gold in a presented pouch later, she lets 1988 and the others inside, watching the trio of drones much more closely than the infiltrator. 99999 is roaming free, not touching anything but trying to discern what all the weird “thingies” could be usable for without using 1988’s hive link for information. The world of mechanical repair, carpentry, and overall tinkering, however, remains entirely locked to it until it gives up and connects to the infiltrator. With the knowledge in its grasp now, it’s time for round two of darting through the store from item to item.

1988 sticks to their business and finds a section with chalkboards. With Smiley being the testing ponnequin and 20100 commenting on various problems that might come up while walking around with variously sized and shaped chalkboards around her neck, they eventually call on the mare and ask for some extra work on a chosen piece. Money talks once again, and roughly twenty minutes later they leave the store with Smiley equipped with two chalkboards, each with added, adjustable leather strap instead of Smiley’s old collection of odd strings gooped together.

“We’ve managed to kill about an hour and a half. Plenty of time to spare,” says 1988 when the group stand outside on the street again, “How about we have a look around the city?” he looks down as 99999 starts vibrating on the spot, waving its foreleg, and looking at him, “Yes, the shiny, tourist part of the city.”

Originally, 1988 was half expecting Smiley to immediately start writing as soon as she got the tablet, but she does nothing of the sort and just keeps fiddling with the straps and figuring out how clamps work whenever 99999 gets too excited and they stop to look at what caused it.

“What is THAT?!” 99999 calls out for the hundredth time today, immediately floating towards a neon XXX sign lighting up a side alley, “Look, it’s a buzzing shiny and I can feel a weird kind of love from the inside! It must be made for us,” it rushes through a door under the sign before 1988 can stop it. Not even five seconds later, 99999 walks back out, nose scrunched and frowning, “There’s a big pony inside who said no miners allowed…”

“Yes, uhh,” 1988 looks for a proper explanation, “That place is more for infiltrators than drones,” when they return to the main street, he looks around and points to a festively decorated place with a chilli pepper neon sign, “How about we try some marexican food?”

“Neat, we haven’t tried those kinds of noms yet,” comments 20100.

“Oooh, noms? Sure, let’s go!” 99999 quickly trots next to casually striding 1988, “What’s special about these?”

“Marexican food can get pretty spicy, but it’s not just that. You’ll see for yourself,” replies the infiltrator and leads the group into the lively bistro.

They earn only a few puzzled stares from other ponies, but they quickly occupy a table for four and Smiley finally finds herself in a familiar situation as one of the two folded pieces of hard paper on the table reads “Menu”. On top of that, there’s a picture next to each item so 99999 and Smiley start exploring one menu and 1988 and 20100 take the other. Unfortunately, pictures don’t mean that much when no drone has any clue what’s in them, so after some explanation by 1988, who isn’t too familiar with the diet himself, 20100 picks a bean burrito because it likes the ‘brr’ sound, Smiley opts for a quesadilla and starts trying to write the word down on her tablet from memory, and 99999 tries some kind of a casserole mix because it looks like there’s everything in it and it’s supposedly extra spicy, whatever that means. The important part is that extra means more, and if 99999 only has one chance to try this particular kind of noms, it will use it to its fullest.

While waiting for their food, Smiley finally tests her new tablet, writing:

[Can write again! Got shinies. Trade for noms.]

“Don’t worry about it, I’m paying,” 20100 shakes its head, “Shinies are no problem. That’s why we were sent to Las Pegasus in the first place.”

“Keep your voice down, all of you,” orders 1988 and pauses while Smiley wipes her tablet and writes something. It’s the same message in smaller letters, and the infiltrator can’t help but pat her head with a smile, “Yes, we are here to get money for the hive. Technically, 20100 is here to do that, I was picked to accompany it because I supposedly had the most experience with cooperating with a drone on a mission. Considering that all I ever did was open up a path for changeling survivors to join the logging camp over six years ago with 9999, that’s somewhat sad.”

“I thought we drones are supposed to dig shinies up back home- in the hive to give to your high ranks so that you can give those to ponies, or not?” asks 99999, “Now you’re… getting shinies from ponies to give to… different ponies?”

“It’s way more complicated,” 1988 relaxes in his chair but still keeps his voice low, “Equestria is rich in natural gold and gems, so the price of what you excavate is nowhere near as high as if we were selling to the Empire or Zebrican states. In general, what is worth is the work put into cutting the gems, smelting and purifying gold and silver, and crafting specific items, from jewelry to technological parts. Since we can’t do that, we’re relying on selling raw minerals to specialized buyers here in Equestria.”

“Why aren’t you guys selling what we dig out to the Griffon Empire and this ‘Zebrican states’ place?” asks 20100, surprising 1988 by knowing at least what the shorthand Empire means.

“There are a lot of factors - griffons despise us and we haven’t been able to establish fake fronts to do business through. As for the zebras, it’s mostly about distance and logistics in general, import taxes in various states of the Northern coast, and so on,” 1988 shakes his head and shrugs, “I could go on forever about the bureaucratic hurdles we have to climb, but you’d understand about half the words and even fewer of the concepts. The short version is that by using 20100’s unnatural luck to repeatedly win small amounts in the various casinos in the city while using disguises so that we’re not able to be tracked, we’re doing the equivalent of weeks of drone work in days. This leaves other infiltrators free to harvest love, which in turn makes things easier for the hive overall.”

“Weeks? Wow!” 99999 ponders something for a moment, “Does one of you bring the shinies back to the hive or how does it work?”

“I am not explaining the banking system to you, little guy,” 1988 chuckles, “Let’s just say that we don’t need to move the money ourselves.”

“Can this ‘banking’ thing make shinies appear elsewhere?” the drone’s guess is, honestly, valid enough for the infiltrator to give just a brief summary.

“You’re kind of close. We give the money to the bank -that’s a version of a store- here in Las Pegasus and they just send a message to a different bank in a different city that the right kind of a pony can use the same amount of money from their, um, stash and they physically move the money later when they have the time.”

The drone processes it for several minutes, but no one adds anything and 1988 enjoys the silence.

“Ohh, that’s so smart!” it eventually smiles when it’s able to imagine the situation, “That’s like the carrying we drones do back in the hive if we’re digging out a huge seam! Diggers pool all the findings in a big pile which a carrying drone on duty picks up and moves all at once.”

“Close,” 1988 nods, “In the most simplified sense, that is.”

Smiley softly taps her hoof on the table while raising her tablet with the other.

[20100 miss home?]

“Yep, a lot,” the drone nods, “My hooves are all itchy from all the digging that I’m not doing, but painting helps. I painted pictures of a bunch of drones and have those in our hotel room. I totally don’t talk to them at all when 1988 isn’t around.”

The infiltrator reaches over and pats 20100’s head.

“As long as they don’t start talking back, it’s alright. We’ll be coming back after the New Year’s, that’s in about two weeks,” he says, “The tourist season will be over and, without the crowds, we might be too easy to track. Besides, we need to let the casinos recover. I think we’ll be doing this twice or three times a year-” when 20100 grumbles to itself, 1988 sighs, “Yes, I understand that it means you won’t get to spend Hard Swarming Eee with the others during 65536’s visits. That’s part of serving the hive, 20100. I believe, though, that if you ask for it, the Queen will allow you to regularly visit 65536 in Canterlot at a different time, maybe with company.”

“Huuh,” 20100 looks up at the ceiling, “A drone field trip…”

While the drone ponders the future possibilities, the waiter arrives with the food and the group digs in.

“Eeep! I think this noms is made from burny melty somethings!” 99999 immediately suffers from sensory overload.

“You wanted it, now you have to fight through it,” 1988 snickers, “It won’t harm you, it’ll just feel like it.”

“Aaah aaah! I breathed in and now my neck is burning from the inside!” In contrast to its complaining, the drone shovels another spoon into its mouth, “Noms is fighting back but I’ll get you!” it suddenly freezes and carefully puts the spoon down.

“Did the spiciness finally get to you?” asks 1988, smirking.

“It doesn’t want to be eaten…” 99999 breathes out. 1988 raises an eyebrow when even 20100 and Smiley carefully put their own food down, “I didn’t want to get eaten and the biter still ate me. Am I eating something that-?”

“Let me stop you right there,” 1988 rolls his eyes, his voice low and calm but also firm, “It’s just a specific taste caused by certain oils inside one of the ingredients of the meal. Some plants just taste like that, calm down.”

Let’s not get into the fact that 20100 is currently eating a beef and bean burrito and Smiley’s quesadilla ISN’T the vegetable kind either. Ponies can eat meat, although they mostly don’t in Equestria, and Las Pegasus does get a ton of griffon tourists. I’m pretty sure that 99999’s casserole has both chicken and beef but nothing in the world is going to make me look at the ingredients list right now.

“You’re not killing anything,” the infiltrator turns his statement into a technically correct one.

“Phew!” 99999 lets out a sigh of relief. Moral quandary over, all three drones resume eating. 1988 slowly breathes out and puts the menus away, face down on the table.

***

Even this late into the evening, there’s only the lightest dusting of snow in the streets of Las Pegasus.

With enough time to spare before the San Palomino train’s departure, 1988 slowly leads the two drones and Smiley through the center of Las Pegasus. They’re not about to visit any of the packed gambling establishments, but it’s clear that the drones are enjoying it nonetheless. 99999 is darting from side to side of the promenade, visibly unable to decide where to run off first while doing nothing in the end, and even 20100 who is used to the city by now is casually trotting along while smiling and looking around. The only one who is resisting the allure of shiny, shifting signs, public spectacle, and beckoning voices is Smiley who looks as if she’s deep in thought about something. 1988 isn’t sure how deep in thought can a “recovering” Silent be, but despite him meeting Smiley about twice since the logging camp while he was patrolling the tunnels, he heard about her incredible progress, and now he can see it with his own eyes so he doesn’t disturb her. Eventually, something catches her eye, she taps the side of 1988’s barrel, and the group stops. Unlike, let’s say, Manehattan, the center of the wide promenade isn’t reserved for carriages, so their sudden stop doesn’t bother any of the tourists forming the steady flow of life on the wide street.

Smiley writes for a moment before pointing at 20100 and showing her work.

[Put shiny into spinny box, spinny box make more shinies. Tiny boxes always show six dots. Yes?]

“The gambling thing?” 20100 catches on quickly, “Yes, and not just that. Roulette - spinny balls, always land where I bet unless someone is directly manipulating them. With cards, it really depends on the game. I generally just have this feeling about what I need to do to win.”

[Idea. News paper!]

Smiley points to a nearby lit stand with various newspapers and magazines displayed layered on racks in front of it while the stallion vendor is inside, currently serving a customer.

“Let’s see what this idea is,” 1988 nods towards the stand, curious what plan Smiley has managed to brew inside her head, and the group heads over.

Smiley takes a newspaper from the rack at random, quickly flips through it, shakes her head, and puts it back. The speed with which she does makes it clear to 1988 that she’s looking for something in particular and very easy to spot, likely a picture. By the time she reaches for the next newspaper on the rack, the vendor has served the customer and notices Smiley flipping through the merchandise.

“Hey, changeling, put that back!” he calls out, shaking his hoof at Smiley, “If you want one, buy it first.”

Smiley returns the paper and writes on her tablet:

[Not know which one. Where smiling pony with numbers?]

The vendor scowls but finally notices 1988 who gives him a soft smile while flicking a lock of his silver hair off of his face.

“Accommodate the young lady, please,” says the androgynous, at best, infiltrator in a friendly tone, not looking for any conflict here in the open, especially when the changelings are clearly in the wrong, “Of course, we’ll pay for the paper she already smudged with her hooves before,” he pulls out the stained paper and puts it on the counter.

Disarmed, the vendor smiles back.

“Uhh, of course, um, Miss?”

1988 doesn’t correct him for a couple reasons. One - by now he’s used to being mistaken for a tall mare, two - sex and gender are moot points for a changeling anyway, and three - the best advantage is the one your opponent gives you unforced. He just counts off the coins while Smiley keeps her tablet raised so that the vendor can notice her over the counter again.

“Oh, right, smiling pony with numbers- do you mean a lottery ad?” the stallion points to the second display rack with magazines, “I’m pretty sure there are a bunch in any edition of those.”

Excited, Smiley opens a coloured collection of scribbles for the first time, but controls herself and flips through, looking for a specific ad. She doesn’t find the one she remembers from the newspaper she read on the train, but finds a very similar one which she shows to 1988.

“We’ll take this one too, then,” says the infiltrator and pays.

The changelings regroup a short distance away so that 1988, being the only one with a saddlebag, can put the newspaper and the magazine away.

“A lottery,” 20100 shakes his head, “You’re smart, Smiley, but we already tried that and it didn’t work. You gotta buy a ticket with numbers and we bought a ton and almost none won, and those that did only got us back a couple bits.”

[You no pick numbers? Sorry.]

Smiley sighs.

“Actually,” 1988 rubs his chin in thought, “You can pick your own numbers and have them print a registered ticket for some lotteries. I’m no gambling expert, but maybe we discarded the idea too soon. There should be a lottery office on the promenade and I don’t doubt it’ll still be open - night drunks make the ‘best’ decisions. If we hurry, we might even catch tonight’s drawing on the radio before you guys leave,” he starts quickly striding along the street, forcing the drones to trot along, “Let’s give it a shot.”

***

The train station clock shows half past ten, and the four changelings, two of whom have been re-backpacked, are sitting inside a train station bar, listening to the radio. 1988 waves at the bartender.

“Can you switch the station to some with the lottery drawings?”

“Feeling lucky, buggo?” asks the tending mare with ears covered in piercings with a smirk.

“Something like that,” 1988 winks at her, “Maybe not just in the lottery, hmm?” he adds as an afterthought. It always pays to spread one’s webs.

The mare chuckles and switches the radio station.

“My shift ends at one, but I’ve got tomorrow off for Hearth’s Warming. How about that, pretty boy?”

“I’ll call my secretary to free my extremely busy schedule,” 1988 sticks his tongue at her, “Tomorrow at ten, Gilded Hearts casino?”

“Don’t keep me waiting, lovebug.”

With one last flirty smile, she leaves to tend to the other patrons. Picking the more adventurous ponies out of a crowd is a critical skill for an infiltrator, and while 1988 could have opted for an evening meeting, spending a day with someone as a good companion makes the feeding afterwards far more rewarding than just a lustful quickie. Contrary to an unfortunately very general belief, changelings tend to avoid working in brothels unless it’s for a quick recharge. Long-term feeding on only lust is unhealthy or downright dangerous, and the few changelings who manage to adapt to such a lifestyle become… weird.

The radio starts announcing the drawing for the correct lottery, and 1988 exchanges looks with 20100 as the numbers fit one to one, including the bonus number. The only reason why 20100 doesn’t go “YAAAAAAY! IT WORKS!” is because 1988 uses the hive link for the first time to order all of them:

“Don’t give off any sign that we won. Finish your drinks, let’s pay up, and leave.”

The train station is only slightly less lively as when Smiley and 99999 arrived due to the passengers departing on various overnight trains, but the changelings do manage to find a calmer spot on the platform from which the Northern San Palomino train will be leaving in twenty minutes. Only now does 1988 open up the subject of the lottery again, and even that is after looking around and in a lowered voice.

“The Queen needs to know we can use these kinds of lotteries after all. With cash flow like this, all the hive needs are some proper investments and we’ll never want for bits anymore. Guess you can’t spell gambling without this particular ling,” he rubs 20100’s head.

Smiley raises her tablet: [Gamb.]

“Can’t argue with that,” the infiltrator shrugs with a chuckle, “Well, I guess the hardest part of the mission is ahead of us - how to pick up all that money up without getting recognized and assassinated. But that’s my job. Don’t worry, 20100.”

“I picked my favorite changelings for the bonus number!” 20100 beams, “99 for 9999, 36 for 36658, and 10 for 10000. The main number I picked with the power of my fuzzy feelsies, woooo!” the drone makes a ghost noise and waves its forelegs in a manner that’s supposed to be mysterious. It’s not, but the thought counts.

While 1988 plans the money pickup with 20100, 99999 nudges Smiley and whispers into her ear.

“You’re a big hero of the hive now! You gotta tell 10000 that and everything will be okay again.”

[Maybe.]

“Hey, guys,” 99999 pokes the infiltrator this time, “Mind telling the Queen that Smiley helped?”

“I will be giving the report in full, and definitely include this,” 1988 nods, “She’s bound to be happy to hear you got here despite some… hiccups.”

Satisfied, 99999 opens its backpack, pulls out the package of assorted candy it bought when they first arrived and, like a good drone, shares it with everyone. Its and Smiley’s final twenty minutes in Las Pegasus trickle away quickly, and they soon depart on the final leg of their mysterious journey, waving through a window at 1988 and 20100 sitting on his back while waving with both forelegs at once.

Hard Swarming in Northern San Palomino awaits.

Author's Note

This one was supposed to be split in two, but I realized I must have messed up at some point before. That's what happens when you have a whole chapter in one document and you try to split scenes into parts that aren'T too long or short.

Hard Swaming Eee: Drones

Today’s worky time is special.

It’s not because it’s only half the usual length. With only a couple of exceptions, all drones are working in the safest core tunnels, rebuilding them into the new reinforced and improved style, and carving the texts gained from the smart box into the walls and the ceiling. If it was possible for drones to have an entirely safe day in the hive, this would be as close to it as it can be. There are several drones inside the High Score Cavern, each busy being a tiny cog inside the clockwork of the hive, and one specific little cog has just arrived with what looks like a bushel of dead branches that’s overall at least twice the drone’s size gooped together on its back. Sensing 57999 enter with its peculiar cargo, 10k stops slowly walking around the HSC and heads off to meet the emergency doctor slash non-emergency botanist.

“Huh, I was wondering why you wanted me to give you an outside shift today,” opens the drone leader, “What are all the sticks for? Trading?”

“Nope!” 57999 shakes its head, beaming, “65536 said that one of the pony traditions was having a tree with shiny stuff hanging on it. We never tried that one, but now that I have a greenhouse so close to a forest I decided we could give it a shot this Hard Swarming Eee.”

“Hmm,” 10k watches as 57999 drops the sticks and starts arranging them on the floor by size, “I don’t think there’s enough to build a tree, especially without the biggest support stick. Trunk, I think, it’s called.”

“Well, yeah,” admits 57999, “I’m not supposed to go deeper into the forest so I just grabbed some sticks that were on the ground already. My idea was that we could goop those to one of the pillars,” it points to one of the smooth, round supports of the cavern at random, “That’s kind of a trunk thingy.”

“Sure, let’s give it a shot. The guys are bound to like anything new,” 10k shrugs and heads off to the side of the cavern into which the drones built a new hearth inspired by the one in the throne room, “I’ll go light the fire.”

It doesn’t take long even for 10k with its limited mobility to bring a couple of goop-soaked pieces of coal from the storage, arrange them into the feeding hole of the hearth, and light them up using a flint and tinder hoof transformation taught by 65536. With the slimes constantly moving through the cavern as drones keep bringing random dirt on their hooves, keeping coal out in the open would just get it eaten. Fire lit, 10k sits down and enjoys the hearth’s warmth slowly creeping outwards as the stones heat up. It can’t help but crack a smile.

Watching as 57999 glues each dead branch to the pillar in a vaguely circular pattern resembling a tree, 10k has the time to reflect on how much things have really changed.

Unless something extremely unlucky happens, no drone should be in danger today. We’re not separated anymore, each of us freezing in a tiny shaft that can collapse at any moment, with barely enough love to survive, just so that we can return with a hoofful of shiny stuff that might or might not be valuable. Once this worky time ends, we’ll gather here and celebrate with 65536 and Shiny Nose by eating a whole bunch of various noms. The only need for stashes these days is so that each drone can keep its stuff at hoof, not hiding things so far out of the way that high ranks wouldn’t find it worth the travel time.

Its eyes briefly flick to 99066 resting in an alcove, curled up with the exception of the outstretched hind leg covered in a cast of healing goop.

And, of course, the most important thing - we get second chances. I wonder what High Score would think if it saw this.

“Judging by what I saw about 9999 in the memories of those who knew it, it would be beyond proud,” Voice reacts to 10k’s train of thought.

“It was the best of us,” replies 10k, this time not just thinking to itself.

“It certainly had a clarity of vision you seem to have lost,” replies Voice thoughtfully, albeit such a combative response is unusual for it.

“What do you mean?”

“I do mean that 9999 would be proud of you. So proud, in fact, that it would have the self-reflection to admit you should be the High Score. Not just begrudgingly admit it, it would be the first one to say that you won the title fair and square, and it would cheer for you,” Voice pauses briefly, but when 10k doesn’t react in any way, it continues hammering down the point, “It would realize that what you are now doing on a daily basis takes more responsibility than it ever had. Objectively, 9999 was just a drone who saved a couple of others personally and didn’t run away or break down when things got tough, and that’s what the response team YOU set up is doing every week at least. By lying to the Queen herself and sending Smiley away, you outclassed 9999 saving 17070 both in achievement and in risk. I don’t mean to diminish its role in the development of dronekind at all, don’t take my words the wrong way, I just think- I know it would be happy that you outgrew it. It wouldn’t want to be the best drone, it would want to be the worst one, the minimum for good drone conduct. It would want everyone to be able to outgrow it.”

10k pokes the floor and Voice waits patiently, decidedly avoiding reading what’s going through the drone leader’s mind until-

“I know…” 10k breathes out and closes its eyes, “I just feel that if I admit it, if I start living as if H- 9999 was just a normal drone, it will really be gone. If I keep the legend of the one and only High Score alive, 9999 can still guide us as someone to aspire to. 36658 realized it first, it thought about the future of drones much more than I did.”

“36658 made its choice, and it chose you.”

“I know.”

“What you’re thinking is decidedly something that 9999 wouldn’t want you to think.”

“I… know,” 10k looks down, “So what now? Do I just say ‘Woo, I’m the best! You should all be like me.’ or something?”

“This isn’t just about presenting the already existing knowledge and information so I need to think about it.”

“Take your time,” 10k shakes its head and takes a deep breath, “This kind of thinking doesn’t belong on Hard Swarming Eee anyway. No need to spoil the good time for others.”

Without 10k bothering to slow time for the mental conversation, 57999 has the time to finish the “tree” during it. Standing under it and examining its work with a scrunched nose, it says:

“Hmm, it feels like it’s missing something.”

“65536 did say that ponies hanged shiny things on the branches too,” 10k takes the chance to think about something other than replacing 9999, “I don’t think that taking shinies from others to decorate the tree this late and without asking is a good idea, so how about glowgoop?”

“Ha! Can’t go wrong with glowgoop. Wanna help me set it up?” 57999 beams at 10k.

“I’d love to, but my wings might shoot off or something. I’ll be allowed to fly again in a couple of weeks and the basic recovery is going to take at least two months, whatever that means.”

57999 shows uncharacteristic observation skills by pausing for a second and asking: “Is something wrong?”

“I’m just thinking about how much things have changed since the old days.”

“Oooh,” 57999 nods as if recalling something that entirely slipped its mind for a long time, “I agree. Deeefinitely much better.”

And that’s it. Nothing more.

“How do you do it, 57999?” asks 10k with a chuckle.

“Do what?” the drone just flies up, starts making small goop balls, and fastening them to branches.

“How come you’re not constantly worried about the future?”

“I’m a drone, 10k. You said your healing would take more than two months, but we come from a time when even the luckiest drones only lived for half the time. Every new chance to wake up is more than I could have ever expected. How can I not be happy?”

“I guess I’m just afraid of what will happen if I get eaten or something.”

“I mean, I’m afraid whenever I go outside too. I still can’t feel my forelegs that well since the time the sticky biter crunched me, but I can’t let that stop me from doing what I’m supposed to do. We can’t get too comfy or too scared to do our job just because we don’t get thrown into the Crusher if we fail anymore. High Score didn’t let fear stop it from taking on the big evil star pony, and that was way worse than anything down here.”

“You’re right, 57999. You’re absolutely right,” 10k looks at 99066 who is now awake and listening to their conversation. Not worried about waking it up anymore, the drone leader walks over to the wounded quicktrotter and asks quietly, “How are you feeling?”

“Tired, aching, still losing control over my body whenever I think of the whole rumbler thing, but I can’t wait to start doing something again,” 99066 smiles, “All in all, I’ve felt better.”

“I’ve thought of a job you can do even like this. Well, once you don’t need the healing cast at least.”

“I’m listening,” 99066’s face brightens up.

“I want you to assess and possibly rebuild the emergency access routes I set up for the rescue team to save drones in trouble. With your quicktrotting experience, you’re the right choice to design routes that should let the rescue team get everywhere the fastest. I wasn’t in the best shape when I originally designed it, and there are bound to be improvements.”

“Yesss!” 99066 victoriously punches the air so hard its entire body moves, ”Ouch!”

“Relax, buddy. Shiny Nose will be here soon, and there will be noms for everyone.”

***

Every single drone is in the High Score Cavern. The quicktrotters aren’t running around, the workshop and the laboratory are empty, and not even 99200 has snuck away for a breaky time adventure. Several latecomers are hovering around the “tree pillar”, sniffing and poking the glued-on branches, the purpose of which hasn’t been revealed yet. It’s something new, though, and that counts for a lot. The other drones are busy, majority with rebuilding their Scufflestick miniatures that were lost due to the fire. Despite the new vents, the HSC is warmer than ever before thanks to the new, roaring hearth built into the center of the side wall, heating up the beehive-like alcoves.

Suddenly, they all sense something. They don't know where it comes from -because Chrysalis masks the hive mind signal- but they know that Hard Swarming Eee is finally here. Everyone immediately stops what they’re doing and groups up near the center of the cavern. These days, most drones are older than a year, so they know what’s coming and expectantly look forward with smiles on their faces. The less than thirty new ones look at the others and, when they see that the strange feeling can’t mean bad things, relax and wait.

A circle of the most evil-looking green flames bursts out of the floor, sharply contrasting with the excited gasps of drones now smiling even wider as the strange fire reflects in their blue eyes. Some can’t contain themselves and ‘Eee!’ quietly while their wings buzz on their backs, making the flames dance due to the added flow of air. Slowly, a menacing, suspiciously Queen-sized, towering shape rises in the center of the circle of fire which fades as the figure draws into its full height and reveals itself. It can’t be the Queen, obviously, because the Queen would never wear a torn but still fluffy reindeer costume, a glowing red ball on her nose, and a set of broken, plastic antlers. Her mere presence makes the glowgoop balls stuck to the branches on the pillar light up.

“Shiny Nose!” several drones whisper as one.

“Shiny sticks…!” breathes out another.

On Shiny Nose’s back sits her official Hard Swarming helper, 65536, wearing a worn-out, red, pointy cap with a fluffy ball on the tip and white fuzz around the bottom rim. In contrast to Ch- Shiny Nose’s stern and judging gaze, 65536 is beaming and waves at the gathered drones the moment the flames of teleportation die down and stop obscuring the view of the pile of presents behind the two. As Shiny Nose takes a step towards the drones who twitch in unison, 65536 hops off of her back and quickly starts moving the presents under the branch-covered pillar, chuckling at the novel execution of a Hearth’s Warming tree.

“Attention!” says Shiny Nose sharply, and all drones go silent in response immediately, “Everyone who was a good drone this year, step forward!”

Just like it always happens whenever drones are in a crowd, they all look around first. It’s not that they don’t think they’ve been good drones since last freezy time, it’s more about whether or not they’ve been good enough. No one ever told them any objective metrics. Were there some hidden criteria they were supposed to figure out on their own? However, the second 99158 sitting in the front row shuffles forward, being certain that its work on the rescue team qualifies it as a good drone, everyone moves.

Well, almost everyone. Sitting in the back row before and now being the lone drone behind everyone, 10k remains in place.

Shiny Nose points at it before unceremoniously shoving the drone directly in front of her aside.

“Make way,” she says, walking through the quickly formed corridor over to 10k. In a flash of green, a floating piece of paper materializes in front of her face, making the surrounding drones twist their necks to see what’s written on it. Thankfully, none can see it from such a low angle because there’s nothing written on it and it’s all just for show. Shiny Nose looks down at 10k who, for the first time since the island incident, looks at peace, “Hesitating? Hmm, the list says you were a good drone.”

“I’m not so sure, Shiny Nose,” says 10k, “It’s been a trying year.”

The piece of paper vanishes again, and Shiny Nose leans down to 10k’s face.

“The list always knows,” she rises up again, “You see, drones that do bad things can sometimes avoid the list. Maybe if they had a good reason, and if they did all they could to make things right,” she circles behind 10k’s back, and puts her hoof between its shoulder blades. If 10k knew what a guillotine was, it would feel like it was under it right now. However, all that happens is that she shoves the drone forward to rejoin the crowd of ‘good ones’. With a couple exceptions, no one has any idea what this whole thing is about, but after seeing Shiny Nose proclaim 10k worthy there are no exceptions to everyone starting to cheer.

Once the ‘yaaaaay!’, the buzzing of wings, and the stomping of hooves on the floor dies down, Shiny Nose returns to her spot in front of everyone.

“Since we’ve already started with you, 10k, let’s get to the presents right away. Hard Swarming Assistant 65536, do we have something for this… redeemed little drone?”

“Uhh, yes!” 65536, still busy moving the presents so quickly its red cap keeps swinging in the air, briefly darts to a small pile separated from the unsorted boxes made of colorful paper, and picks up… an envelope? A very thick one. It rushes over and gives it to 10k with: “You might want to open it alone, and be sure to read the small note inside first.”

Before 10k can say anything, 65536 resumes moving the pile of boxes, leaving the drone leader stumped as to what the present can be. Even Shiny Nose gives 65536 a second glance if it really is everything.

“Looks like that’s-” she tries to move on to the next drone on the secret hive mind list, which is entirely unrelated to the smudged piece of paper she used for her theatrics earlier, when a presence makes itself known inside her head.

“Your Majesty, I think it’s time to-”

As time outside of her mind stands still, Shiny Nose listens to Voice’s request. In the end, she continues her sentence from before she was interrupted.

“-not everything. The Great Shiny as well as Her Royal Majesty, Queen Chrysalis, decided that one more present is in order, one you’ve earned a long time ago but also one which you weren’t ready to accept. I, hereby, bestow the title of High Score on you.”

10k hangs its head for the brief moment of absolute silence before a burst of cheering and stomping from all drones much louder than before deafens it. Once it dies down again, 10k only nods and says:

“I’ll do my best.”

“I would hope so,” Shiny Nose nods back.

“Go read the letter!” adds 65536 from the back in an insistent whisper that’s so loud everyone can hear.

“One more thing before we move on,” Shiny Nose raises her hoof, “High Score is and used to be a title, which means that it is earned. There will be no re-ranking or re-numbering, but the Queen will know who High Score is, and any of you will, from now on, have the chance to become it through exemplary service to the hive. Although it may take some time to surpass 10k here,” she smiles at the drone leader and pats its head before looking back over her shoulder at 65536, “Next! Assistant 65536, bring the present for 99111.”

Knowing the procedure from last year’s Hard Swarming, 10k walks off to find a private place while 99111 steps up to Shiny Nose, its back arm tensed. 65536 rushes over with a thick, hard-cover book bound by a gold-colored ribbon.

“Gasp! A… book thingy? I like the yellow noodle wrapped around it!” 99111 sits on its haunches and takes the huge book with its forelegs, reading the large letters on the front, “En-cy-clo- clop…” it pauses, overwhelmed by the long word.

“It’s an encyclopedia!” 65536 beams, “That means a book with tons of useful explainy scribbles. This one is about basic mechanics, and engineering. There might be some scribbles about springs in there too.”

“Gasp again!” 99111 hugs the book, “Thank you, Shiny Nose. Thank you, 65536! And-” 99111’s back arm, motionless until now, boops Shiny Nose’s red, shiny nose, “-gotcha!”

Before the drone can even take its first step to flee, invisible grip tightens around its midsection. Shiny Nose narrows her eyes and says calmly:

“99111, put the book down. It would be a shame if it got damaged before you got the chance to read it.”

The drone immediately puts the encyclopedia down with utmost care, worried more about its present than about the sudden inability to move, and immediately gets lobbed upwards in a beautiful arc ending in the goop pool under the big slide. Several bounces later, it sits up, dizzy but unharmed.

“Next, 99856!” Shiny Nose calls out and 65536 brings up another huge book.

“Ooh, do I get a cyclo-thingy too?” it asks, “Neat, but I wouldn’t mind sharing 99111’s either.”

“Yes, you do,” says 65536, “And this one is different from 99111’s. This one is about applied physics and chemistry, and there are basic experiments you can perform. You’ll have to make your own equipment, though. Delicate glass is difficult to move without breaking.”

“Next, 57999,” calls out Shiny Nose after 99856 scoots off with its book as well as 99111’s, which the still swaying tinkerer takes when it returns from its forced flying trip.

65536 brings another book, although this time it’s accompanied by a satchel. 57999, being a little more experienced than the “scientist” duo, reads the whole cover first.

“Botany?” it looks at its hooves, “Neat. I could use some tips on how to make booties, especially when it’s so cold outside. For my hind leggos mostly, the front ones are numb all the time.”

“Botany is a pony word for taking care of plants and flowers,” 65536 shakes the satchel, “Plus, there are labeled bags of seeds in here that you can plant when it gets warmer. They’ll last a while and they are described in the book, so you can plant them as you read about them.”

“THAT’S EVEN BETTER!” 57999 beams, takes the book with one leg, the satchel with its mouth, and shuffles off on three legs, “Mhmm mmmhm mmm! Mmhank mhoo!”

“Next, 99380!” is the following roll call, and the requested drone sitting in the back row looks up, surprised.

“Uh, me? Okay? I was just waiting for the shared noms. I had no idea there would be something for me. I don’t even do anything specific like the others-” it talks in a nervous tone as it approaches Shiny Nose. 65536 gives Shiny Nose a smaller but much thicker rectangle this time bound by two ribbons.

“There you go,” Shiny Nose just levitates the present to 99380 who almost presses its nose to it as it reads, “The Ad-ven-tu-res of Da-ring Do: The Scep-ter of Qu-ve-zu-lak. Book one,” it turns the present around, realizing there are three soft-cover books, from book one to book three, “Are these explainy books too?” it looks up at Shiny Nose who glances sideways at 65536.

“Nope,” little helper 65536 shakes its head, “These are, umm, fiction books. They’re stories about strange and new stuff that may be partially true or completely imaginary. They are fun to read if you pretend they’re real. It’s like when you told everyone the story about what happened during the island trip, only not real.”

“We’re getting loads of scribbles on this Hard Swarming Eee,” comments someone before 65536 can say anything else.

“Yup, isn’t that great?!” the drone next to the interrupting changeling beams, “Do you think 99380 will read to us?”

“Like while we’re working? Stories instead of tunes?”

“Oooh, that sounds fun!”

“Maybe some worky times we’ll get music and at other times stories?”

“YAAAY, MORE STORY TIME!”

As more and more drones join the impromptu discussion, Shiny Nose and 65536 call out 99526 who steps up, even more surprised than 99380. 65536 quickly hops over with an actual paper box. When 99526 opens it, it wibbles and asks:

“Awww, so many tiny noms just for me? How come?”

“These are special,” 65536 beams, “I don’t know how it works exactly, but they should have very few calories - that means you should be able to eat way more without getting sick and join in as everyone stuffs their face.”

*Wibble wibble.*

“Glad you like it,” 65536 pats 99526’s head.

*Wibble.*

“Shoo!” Shiny Nose waves the drone off.

***

The time comes for the presentation and tasting of the, frankly, tooth-melting amount and variety of candy. 10k isn’t in the drone crowd, however, instead it’s sitting on the second floor of the HSC -the balcony lining the entire cavern- and out of sight of everyone. The envelope in its hooves is only lightly glued, and the seal opens with just a push of the tip of 10k’s hoof.

I wonder what this is. 65536 said to find the small note first.

The envelope is stuffed, but there’s a small rectangle right next to the open seam, smaller than the folded paper behind it and numerous big, sturdier rectangles filling the rest of the envelope which 10k decidedly avoids looking at. Unfolding the small note reveals it’s covered in writing, so 10k starts reading.

You wouldn’t believe what happened this spring, 10000. I got my photo taken for a newspaper because Princess Celestia wanted to show that changelings can join the Guard branches too and do a good job. That specific newspaper is sold all over Equestria, and a couple weeks later I received a letter from Stalliongrad - that’s a big city in Equestria far northeast from Canterlot. I’ve never been there and I didn’t know anyone from there, so I had no idea what that could be about. I don’t want to spoil stuff, so I’ll just say that the letter you’re about to read is the result of me visiting Stalliongrad twice afterwards, first time to see what’s going on and the second time to make this present. You can read the letter now.

Having received zero explanation so far, 10k puts the note back and takes the folded letter. It’s written in the large but extremely precise letters of someone who isn’t used to writing and considers every letter a small picture.

Hi, 10013! I mean 10000.

65536 told me you got promoted and you’re the High Score now but you don’t like when others call you that. How come? 9999 would be happy to see a drone get so far in life. Speaking of which, 65536 told me that things are much better in the hive these days and that I should come visit with it some time, but Hearth’s Warming is a pretty important time here in Stalliongrad so I can’t just leave for a couple weeks, sorry.

As for me, I can hear again, kinda! I can’t understand anything, but I know when someone is calling for me. When Miss Ladle took me to a pony doctor here they said that it probably wouldn’t get better anymore but they didn’t know much about changelings but supposedly our ears are super similar to ponies and I’m missing some tiny inside bits. It’s not the biggest deal anyway, because I learned something ponies call “a sign language” - it’s moving your hooves in such a way that it means things. No, it’s not just random flailing! 65536 learned it just so that it could talk to me, isn’t that amazing? I was thinking that you could send Smiley to Canterlot to learn from 65536 too. By the way, how AWESOME is it that Smiley is now a full smart changeling?! And she’s a she! The last time I saw her she was still only walking around and doing what others told her. I mean, being a good drone and doing what you’re told is still important, but you know what I mean. She can read and write now! I learned to read and write too and it was pretty hard without any high ranks around but now my head doesn’t even hurt anymore when I read for a long time.

Oh, right! I got worky time here too, ponies call it a job. They have a lot of words that each mean one specific thing. It was really weird talking to them until I realized they didn’t hear what I thought I was saying. Did you know that when I said rumbler, they heard big loud bitey noodle? There’s a ton of stuff like that, and 65536 said it bypassed the problem because someone called Miss Fury pushed a lot of knowledge into its head over the first weeks in Canterlot. Did you know that “bypassed” was a word? I read A LOT these days. Sorry, I’m jumping from one thing to the other, I’m just so happy 65536 visited me in person and told me that you, 20100, 47989, and 57999 are alive and well, and that there are a whole bunch of new drones and that everything is much better back in the hive. I’m sad that I didn’t get to thank 9999 but I heard it led you guys in stopping the biggest baddie anyone has ever seen, so that’s GABLONK!

Wait, the job thingy - I made it to a cook recently! I’ve been a helper in training after we arrived at Stalliongrad, then I became an assistant, which means I got good enough to get shinies for my work, and this year I’m finally a real cook! I learned that we changelings taste stuff differently from ponies, so I gotta remember the recipes step by step and do them right so that the taste is right for ponies. I can make tons of noms from the weirdest things! Did you know that ponies eat a whole bunch of stuff that comes from monsters we would generally call gribblers? There must be so many edible things in the hive if only someone figured out how to hunt and prepare them. I’m trying to learn to make sweet noms now too. I’m not good at it yet, but I made a bunch of caramel blobs and gave them to 65536 to bring to you. I also bought a big glass of honey for you. Both of those will last until winter easy. I dunno what to write down next because so much has happened so I’ll send you a bunch of photos! Ponies have a saying that goes that a picture is worth a thousand words, and a thousand is a lot!

PS (that means post scriptum - that’s the “after the letter part”): 65536 told me it was learning all it could about pony surgery to help you get better. I hope it works for you. From all I heard, you’re doing a great job as the leader and it would be a shame if the drones lost you. Good luck, 10000.

Signed: 17070

With shaking hooves, the drone leader carefully folds the letter again, puts it into the back of the envelope, and goes through the photographs with zero interest in how these seemingly perfect pictures were created, only in what’s in them. They follow a theme - depicting a normal, smiling, indistinguishable drone who must be 17070 in various places of what looks like a pony city during different times of the year. Sometimes, the drone is on its own, but the vast majority of the photos are in the company of a bulky stallion 10k doesn’t know and a chubby, adult mare who is vaguely familiar from the drones’ past in the logging camp. 65536, recognizable by its slightly more muscular build and a midnight blue Nightguard neck piece, is only in a couple pictures, meaning that 17070 was taking photos in between 65536’s visits as well.

10k has no idea during which picture it started crying.

65536 isn’t unique. We can make it outside.

Crying but happy. Crappy? No, that doesn’t sound right.

Lost in its own world for now, 10k reads the letter and goes through every single picture over and over and over. It completely misses Shiny Nose’s departure followed by the ravenous drones downstairs stuffing their faces with candy until 99111 distracts them by turning on the new radio on the top floor. A crackly but audible voice comes out of the speakers, and it takes only a couple minutes for all drones to move themselves and the candy to the third floor of the HSC and huddle up and start eagerly listening to what seems to be a story about some pony who really doesn’t like Hearth’s Warming.

“Izzat a music box?”

“It’s a talky box!”

“Shush, the talky box is talking and there’s a tune too!”

“Hard Swarming tale, part two? Did we miss part one?”

“We’ll miss part two too, if you don’t shut up!”

“Oh, right!”

“Boo, Snowfrosty! Boo!”

“Yeah, don’t mix all those weirdly named thingies to take Hard Swarming away!”

“What’s a ghost?”

“No idea, but the voice said it had a sharp slashy! Get Fallfrostysnow!”

“Ha! Slashy threatening worked! Snowfall is giving presents now!”

In 10k’s blurring eyes, this is the best Hard Swarming to date.

Author's Note

You know what? I'm not going to split the finale into 1,5k-2k word parts, just into real chapters.
I'll take a break afterwards.

Hard Swarming Eee: High Ranks

With drones satisfied and, frankly, pigging out to a disgusting degree, Chrysalis leaves the High Score Cavern on hoof instead of teleporting out to finish the show. It’s not as if anyone’s paying attention to her anymore due to the radio play anyway.

Outclassed in authority by a radio while wearing a silly, ruined, reindeer costume. What would my mother say if she saw this? If she wasn’t half-insane from the other Queens inside her head, that is. Wrong Queen - she would execute everyone involved. What would grandma say, though? Probably still the same, to be honest. Respect and fear are easy to mix up, and all they valued was obedience which you can achieve by both. Fear is easier, too.

So what have I got? Are my changelings afraid of me? Yes, and that’s good. Are they terrified of me? No. Do they respect me? Enough to tell me the truth. Do they… like me?

Will they do what I say even if they don’t want to? Yes, and that’s the important part.

Taking a leisurely stroll through the upper tunnels, Chrysalis enjoys the complete silence, breathing in huge lungfuls of freezing air. Of course, she can always sense the drones in the back of her head, but no one is talking to her directly nor needs her attention. For the first time in years, she feels alone.

The instant her train of thought arrives at that conclusion, she breathes out and tenses up.

I guess I’ll still have to wait before I can relax.

She can’t sense anyone.

156 and 387 could be excusable. They’ve wanted some time alone before, and 387 has proven able to shield them both from her senses. Even 99, despite her lack of power and skills, could put enough distance between herself and Chrysalis and coupled it with proper mental shielding to be difficult to sense, although that would take serious effort. There are two changelings she should be able to sense from her current position no matter what, though - 2119 and 3012 standing on guard near the throne room.

She ponders the situation and picks up the pace, burning a small amount of love to enhance her physical senses. One might call her effort fruitless, but it still assures her that there’s no ambush waiting for her ahead. Chrysalis concentrates further and, for the briefest second, she finally senses a weak flash of 99’s mind in the throne room, which is immediately ripped away afterwards. That’s all she needs to recognize that 99 is unfocused, dizzy, and surprised. There’s no positive reason 99 would feel like that inside the throne room.

Chrysalis sighs. Time to take the reindeer costume off and put the royal crown back on. Taking it literally, she visits the small cave where 65536’s cart is and disrobes, carefully folding her “disguise” back into its box. No reason to let it get ruined by some foolish conspirators who have no idea what they’re dealing with. Taking the sentries, 156, and 99 likely by surprise means nothing. In fact, emboldening idiots who think they’re strong enough to reveal themselves after taking on rank 99 is one of the reasons for 99’s name.

Once she makes her way to the surface floor of the hive, she decidedly avoids entering the throne room via the main entrance, and instead she drains love from a seemingly random section of a side wall which is thin enough to open, walking through with a stern expression on her face. That expression freezes only slightly when she notices a familiar green barrel directly next to her from the corner of her eye.

There are ten changelings present in total, all clearly expecting her. Two, however, are floating right by the skip exit on the ceiling. All of them are mentally shielded and thus basically unidentifiable with the exception of 99 lying next to another green barrel, all four legs glued to the floor. The first inconsistency of the situation is that 99 seems to be unconscious. With the knowledge of her waking up from before, it’s possible that she’s pretending. As Chrysalis flicks her head almost imperceptibly upwards, the female changeling closest to her chuckles and says:

“Yes, there’s another barrel above you. Yes, they’re all filled by the pressurized acid foam that 99856 and 99111 made.”

“And that’s supposed to stop me from ruining your little gathering, how?” Chrysalis raises an eyebrow.

The mare’s pleasant smile doesn’t fade at all.

“There are two things still missing from this, as you called it, gathering. While we’re waiting, let me do my evil monologue, Your Majesty,” she says. Despite her almost perfect facade, Chrysalis does get a hint that the mare is at least somewhat nervous. Good.

It would be impossible to explain the feeling of mental veil not exactly lifting, but withdrawing slightly and allowing for the identification of everyone present. The Queen, however, stops on the changeling mare going by the rank 745 seemingly leading the group.

“You’re not 745,” she says.

“Yes and no. Care to guess again? As I said, we still have time.”

Chrysalis tries to enter the mind of any of the changelings, and fails. It’s hard to admit, but an infiltrator Queen without mental influence is severely limited and, for the first time, doubt creeps into her mind. She might be in more danger than she expected, but she notices she’s not alone. There’s a string of drool from 99’s mouth dripping exactly on the resin shackle gluing her to the floor. She just needs time to free herself safely. How much help she would be is debatable, but it’s better than being on her own.

“745 died trying to read 65536’s mind, and I don’t think 65536’s mind can be manipulated. You’re pretending to be her using a fake link.”

“Close,” the mare smirks, “745 never existed. There's a limit to how much a Queen can see by reading minds and only interacting with drones. We are a species of deception,” green fire flashes across the mare’s body, revealing a grey mane, tail, and the general visage of 156.

“Then whom did the spell in 65536’s head kill?” it takes Chrysalis’ full self-control to show nothing on her face nor in her voice despite her heart shattering into pieces. Metaphorically, of course. There’s a small but growing part of her set on delivering literal shattering to everyone involved. Times have indeed changed. Unfortunately, like old drones, old changelings carry the old days with them.

“We are a species of deception,” repeats 156, opens her mouth, and lets out an overexaggerated moan as the surface layer of her carapace melts off. Afterwards, she simply wipes the thin layer off, “745 never existed and also never died.”

Only now Chrysalis allows herself a not exactly sad, just extremely exhausted sigh.

“Why you, 156?”

“You should know best, Your Majesty, what it means to be the only one for a job-”

“RUN, QUEEN, THEY CAN BLOCK MENTAL SKILLS, RUN!” 99 rips the green goop keeping her restrained into pieces and, in one movement, grows a blade from her foreleg, hacking a chunk of the barrel next to her off.

“That’s thing number one,” says 156 calmly when pressurized foam fails to explode out of the barrel and melt everyone nearby including 99 as the heroic sacrifice. None of the other changelings move but, with only a brief glance, 156 makes 99 lose control of her limbs and drop to the floor. She looks up at the ceiling where the two changelings are waiting next, “The other barrels really are full, in case you’re wondering.”

Despite 99’s warning, Chrysalis hasn’t moved a step. The pretend calm demeanor of everyone is telling her two things - the rebels expected 99 to do exactly that, but they are also scared of her even in this situation. Running would be easy, but that seems like the expected action. No, they need to think they’ve won, and then she needs to attack, which means she must wait for the second moment of 156’s triumph before striking. As far as she knows, no changeling present has ever seen her fight.

Goad them into talking, Chrysalis.

“Is this about drones?” she looks at the changelings behind 156, “I thought we sorted this out, or didn’t 156 tell you that I agreed to the idea of you having time off to pursue some interest like the drones do?”

Without making any noise or revealing a hive link signature, 387 drops through the skip. Unfortunately, he gets immediately tackled mid-air by the two changelings waiting for him and brought down where they restrain him.

“And thing number two,” 156 smiles, “Being such great assets to the hive also makes you predictable, but only Her Majesty here is an infiltrator, and she put her trust in me for a long time. Well, I guess it’s time for the last thing I wanted to say.”

“Say it, 156. You might be the first changeling in a millennium with a gravestone and I’m out of ideas for an epitaph,” Chrysalis bares her fangs and lowers herself into a combat stance.

She’s not moving. Neither of them are. They still don’t believe I’ll attack them.

“My last words, then, are: Well done, everyone. Let them go,” 156 takes a deep bow and the conspirators do what they’re told, “And to you, Your Majesty, Happy Hard Swarming Eee!”

“What…?” Chrysalis keeps glaring, the only reason for her not charging forward being that 99 and 387 are seemingly really being released, “Explain yourself, immediately!”

“I fully intend to, Your Majesty,” 156 rises up, smiling, “However, if you don’t mind, I’ll save the best for last,” she looks at 99 who darts past her and joins the Queen’s side of the room, “99, how did you enjoy your present?”

“My… present…?” is all 99 can say.

“Yes. Games of tactics are your thing, aren’t they? I know you love Scufflestick, but drones aren’t much of a challenge, and neither I nor 387 play much. On the other hole, you got to unravel a mysterious conspiracy through the week, one too twisted and seemingly nonsensical, because that’s what it was. And in the end, it forced you to make a move, to risk everything by facing the mysterious rebel leader. You lost, but also gained the all-important opportunity for a heroic sacrifice to save the Queen.”

“This was… a game?!” 99 raises her voice, starting to shake.

“A game and a chance to see a glimpse of the world most of us-” 156 looks backwards at the other ‘conspirators’, “-had to live in. Don’t think for a second that drones were the only ones who had it difficult. At least they could always trust each other.”

“What about me then?” asks 387, joining 99 and Chrysalis while glaring at 156, “I spent days creeping around like an idiot.”

“Hmmm, isn’t there one more mystery to unravel, 387? One about how a simple infiltrator could hide everything that was going on from you and, most importantly, the Queen herself?” 156 whistles sharply, and a figure similar to 387 walks out from behind the throne, only dark purple instead of mossy green, “The simple answer is - she had help from someone who specializes in hiding.”

“Whispershade?” 387 squints, “What? How? I thought you died during the invasion. I tried to contact the few remaining changelings in Canterlot when things settled, but I didn’t hear a word about you or the orphanage crew…” he starts walking forward, his voice full of disbelief, “I only heard that the paladins killed some changelings who tried to flee through the secret tunnel leading into the old mines. I thought… I thought…” 387 rushes the few final steps towards Whispershade and wraps his forelegs around the other ‘changeling’s’ neck.

“Yes, it’s me, Twinkleshine. We barely fled before the invasion hit, but we got the last batch of changelings you smuggled out of the hive into safety too. We fled to Fillydelphia before the news spread and most of us are still there. I was shocked that she was able to find me this spring,” Whispershade nods at 156, “Apparently, you couldn’t keep your mouth shut after things supposedly changed and told her a lot about our little underground railroad.”

“If it makes you feel better, without knowing 387 this well, I would have never detected your fake hive link,” says 156, “And I was planning this for a long time. Whispershade’s visit, that is, not this conspiracy. How about you two take some time to catch up? I’m sure Her Majesty will have questions for me soon.”

387, still visibly stunned by the development, just wordlessly nods, and follows Whispershade behind the throne and starts off a muffled conversation. By now, Chrysalis has relaxed and managed to tame the worst of her instinct screaming at her to immediately execute everyone involved but mainly 156, if not for a real conspiracy then for proving she’s too dangerous to keep alive for being able to pull this off under Chrysalis’ nose. The other changelings are still only watching, although now visibly nervous.

“156, game or not, you’re not the only one here who knows this would get you recycled not so long ago,” says the Queen sternly. Several changelings look down at the floor. The most visibly terrified are the two gate sentries who shuffle towards each other, proving to Chrysalis that they must have been roped into this only recently, “I suggest you get to the point.”

“That is the point, Your Majesty,” 156 slowly looks around, pointing her hoof at everyone present, “I successfully pulled off a conspiracy, got you into a vulnerable position by making it impossible for you to use your main strength, and trapped you in a position where your top supporters were defeated and your only options were to flee or take a dangerously risky fight. And look at how this ends, Your Majesty. With your status of power and fear stripped away from you, what are you left with? Do you want me to tell you what I see?”

“You are not helping your case, 156.”

“If this happened, let’s say, a decade ago,” 156 narrows her eyes, “I would see a Queen about to fall and a hive about to die. Now? How can I make it more clear? No one is after your position. You are vulnerable, but no one here wants to hurt you. You are valued by all your changelings, not just drones. Yes, they are trembling in fear -don’t think I haven’t noticed, guys- but that’s because they think we’ve gone a little too overboard with my present for you, which was to prove to you that they see you as a valuable Queen, not as a tyrant ruling by force anymore. We all believe in what the hive can become under your leadership, which is something none of us could say not that long ago,” 156 looks Chrysalis directly into her eyes, “You can, of course, read our minds to confirm the full story. The flutterpony protection is gone.”

“So there never was a conspiracy?” asks Chrysalis, “And this whole thing was a present for me, a proof that I can trust my whole hive to not turn on me if I show weakness?”

“Not entirely,” 156 turns her head and looks at 838, “838 was worried about drone mind control resistance, that wasn’t a trick and we still have no idea how they do it. Some changelings did want time to pursue their interests, and we came to an understanding about that too. On top of that, 415 freaked out pretty badly when he learned about drone acid mines. This just shows they know how many good reasons drones would have to take revenge… if it was in their blood. However, like when you jumped to conclusions about it and I calmed you down, I dealt with their discontent before it could bloom into something serious, as is my job. I just used real concerns to spark a fake conspiracy. Isn’t it great that, for once, it was a fake threat from real friends instead the usual other way around?” 156 chuckles, “To be honest, it was a bit of a present to myself, a test to see if I could pull it off. As I told 99 recently, if there’s one thing I miss from the old days, it’s the chance to test myself against someone better. Peace is difficult to get used to after so long, but it’s proving to be worth it.”

“You’ve risked a lot. One wrong move and I could have killed the lot of you.”

“I would be first, and everyone was instructed to flee and Whispershade was told to withdraw his protection if that happened so that you could read their minds about everything.”

“You would still be dead.”

“Nothing important is risk-free,” 156 shrugs, “I believed I’d grown to know you better than anyone, though, Your Majesty.”

“I know you’re celebrating on the inside that you’ve pulled this off, but you’re still way too smug about it,” Chrysalis reaches out and smacks 156 over the head before lowering her voice into a growl, “Don’t try this ever again.”

“Ouch,” the infiltrator chuckles, “That’s because I have one more present, a more tangible one this time.”

“Oh?”

“Guys, grab the barrels. Carefully!” orders 156 and her group finally starts moving.

“What’s this about?” asks Chrysalis.

“You know how the drones killed a rock worm, right? I distinctly recall you saying that if we ever found a way to hunt those monstrosities, you’d join in a heartbeat.”

“No…” Chrysalis breathes out.

“We have three full barrels, how about we celebrate Hard Swarming Eee by heading down and nuking us some of those gigantic bastards?” 156 grins. That grin fades when Chrysalis shoots her a raised eyebrow and a smug smirk of her own, “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be the bait, you throw the barrels.”

“You’re the one who wanted a challenge,” Chrysalis shrugs.

Hard Swaming Eee: Epilogue

Middle of winter or not, the area through which the small shuttle train carrying Smiley and 99999 is going is mostly devoid of snow as far as the eye can see in the morning light. Four specific changeling eyes watching the landscape can see far and wide because, for the first time since leaving the Badlands, they’re out of a forested area. The terrain consists mostly of resilient, ground-level shrubbery with only some solitary unknown spiky trees occasionally breaking the monotone. To a pony, it would be grey-ish brown, with light dusting of snow, and boring. To the two travelling changelings, it’s new. The train itself is a simple affair with only one passenger car and three cargo cars, similar to the one they originally took between Appleloosa and Ponyville, which to them means nothing, but an experienced traveller could assume that the place they’re going to isn’t particularly important. Yet, the rails are thick and solid and the tracks well-maintained, hinting at cargo traffic being more prevalent on this route.

Both changelings perk up when the train eventually starts slowing down and a collection of houses that could loosely be called a small town comes into view. The only major landmarks are the town hall with a bell tower on top, the train station they’re heading into, and a large, two-story mansion on a small hill on the northern edge of the town. The rest they can see from the train are the ground floor, residential houses with thatched roofs, much like Ponyville.

“Welcome to Northern San Palomino! Next stop - Southern San Palomino,” states the intercom as the train crawls to a halt, “We will be departing in an hour.”

“Well, here we are,” says 99999, suddenly so nervous it forgets the instructions, “Uh, what were we supposed to do when we got here?”

Smiley looks around at several passengers picking their things and shuffling through the narrow aisle to the exit, and quickly scribbles: [outside]

“R- right,” 99999 nods, grabs its backpack from underneath the chair -without its security egg, there’s no need to guard it as closely- and waits for Smiley so that they’re both leaving together, “Heheh, my leggos are shaking. Weird…”

Once they’re outside, Smiley nuzzles the drone’s neck and goes through her original backpack until she pulls out the folded message and gives it to the drone. While the drone re-reads it, she shudders. Despite very little snow, it’s still freezing, it’s just dry cold so it’s less obtrusive.

“Broadcast a hive link message -///xppds13…” mumbles 99999 and concentrates, “Here goes.”

The message is some kind of a mental code it can’t understand, nor does it receive any confirmation that it was heard.

“I can’t sense anything,” for a while, it keeps watching the train pull into the yard onto one of the two spare tracks, before asking quietly, “Do you think they just sent both of us as far away as they could?”

Smiley resolutely shakes her head and writes in big, bold letters:

[YOU NO SENT AWAY. ME SENT AWAY. YOU GOOD DRONE]

“I guess we just have to wait,” 99999 forces a nervous smile.

In the absence of concrete orders, they just sit down on one of the two benches on the platform and watch the train crew slowly leave for a small bistro by the station which looks like it had been added recently. Now that there’s time to just watch as well as enough light to see further into the town, the changelings recognize that, in fact, most buildings that aren’t housing are on the newer side. Perhaps this place used to be a small residential town like Dodge Junction, but in the recent time it got some upgrades to get on the level of Appleloosa. Of course, the whys and wherefores of the situation are beyond the analytical process of the duo.

If there’s something drones are good at, it’s waiting, and after roughly ten minutes, a voice coming from someone they didn’t see, hear, or sense approaching says:

“Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“Aah?!” 99999 yelps and looks up at a wiry changeling measuring it with eyes narrowed in suspicion. Reflexively, the drone looks at Smiley as the one with more experience, and notices that her demeanor is similar to when they met 1988 in Las Pegasus for the first time, even more pronounced, “Hello, Mister! I think Smiley wants to say something. You gotta be patient because she can’t-”

“Talk. I’m aware,” says the changeling and glances over to her. Smiley is smiling with a hopeful expression, one foreleg raised and bent while pointing with the other at the lighter zebra-like stripe on it, “Yes, Smiley, I remember you. First, though, I want to know why the two of you are here and, most importantly, if there are only the two of you.”

Smiley nods and reaches into her backpack.

“Yup, only the two of us,” 99999 nods, “I might not have died on the train if there were more of us.”

“Died…?” the changeling’s voice turns into a whisper, “No. She wouldn’t…”

“Are you okay, Mister?” asks 99999 as Smiley waves the note with instructions again and gives it to the changeling who carefully reads it multiple times. Unsure what’s happening, the drone adds, “I think I’m supposed to stay around here. I’m not really sure why-” the changeling absent-mindedly pats 99999’s head, silencing it.

“Come with me,” he says, stuffing the note under his leg carapace, and leads the way, “Sorry for being so suspicious. I must admit I was hoping the Queen forgot about us completely. Oh, manners, right,” he smiles at 99999, and links up with it as well as with Smiley, “I’m 1313 and, believe it or not, you might be the Queen’s attempt to repay a debt to me and my wife.”

“That’s a good thing, right?” 99999’s nervousness returns. Does that mean it’s supposed to do something now?

[Zamzam?]

“If you call her that, I think she might never let you leave, Smiley, and the note did say they’ll want you back eventually,” 1313 snickers and notices 99999, “Yes, that’s a good thing, little guy. Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll grow to like it here. The ponies are nice and, since we built the train station using royal funds, there are travellers staying here often and sharing stories. Plus, there’s a lot to do all the time. As for love, you’ll see,” 1313 smirks, “Oh, and one more thing. You said you died, right?” he asks in a strangely casual tone.

“Yup, twice! Once back in the hive and once on the way here,” 99999 nods.

“Those are rookie numbers. How does it work for you?”

“For you?” 99999 gasps this time for real, “WAIT! YOU DIED TOO?!”

1313 laughs and starts sharing his numerous experiences with shattering to pieces with the drone excited to find someone similar to it. Smiley is just silently walking along and taking in the details of the morning town, happy to see a familiar friendly face again. The trio draws surprised looks from the occasional outside pony, but by now she can vaguely distinguish pony expressions and the onlookers seem curious and without any disdain. 1313 leads them to the mansion overlooking the town. While the main double door is unguarded, Smiley notices shadows walking behind the windows and can distinctly hear some banging on the roof and ground cracking from behind the house.

Once they enter, Smiley sniffs the air, taking in a strange, spicy mix of scents coming from the door across a short hall from the entrance.

“Wipe your hooves,” 1313 points at the inside doormat, “I know that cleanliness isn’t a drone thing, but it’s critical for everyone else, so you’ll be learning quickly,” as the drones curiously poke the somewhat bristly square on the floor just behind the entrance, 1313 raises his voice and calls out, “Zamira, honey! I think your Hearth’s Warming present is here!”

Several seconds pass.

“1313, you know we’re on a budget-” a loving but slightly annoyed voice comes along with steps approaching from behind the inner door.

“GASP! IMMA PRESENT?!” 99999 squeaks, finally getting it.

After that, the door slams open, revealing a built zebra mare who only briefly glances at smugly smirking 1313 before her jaw drops as she sees and clearly recognizes Smiley, and finally her eyes stop on 99999.

“You can’t be- she really- Queen Chrysalis stuck to her word?” the zebra stutters out.

Smiley raises her tablet with [Zamzam] still written on it.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

For once, the high-pitched voice doesn’t belong to a drone.

Epilogue:

It’s the day after Hard Swarming Eee.

While the sleepy time yesterday was longer due to the celebration and massive overeating, drones are now happily at work again, high ranks have been sent out on love-gathering missions, this time for real, and a couple of individuals are standing in front of the hive gate, looking out at the plains once again whipped by wind and snow.

“Not the best weather for going outside,” comments 156, looking at 65536 who is once again harnessed to its cart. Thankfully, there’s only the heating box for clothes loaded on it now as well as a small package of spares and a sleeping bag, so the drone barely even feels the weight.

“It’s fine,” 65536 waves it off, “As long as the wind doesn’t turn the cart over it’s still far from the worst I’ve had to walk through. And think of it this way - the more time I have to work back home, the more bits I’ll save and the more stuff I’ll be able to bring with me next time.”

“Buddy, if you lived still in the hive, you’d be High Score for sure,” says 10k, giving 65536 a careful hug.

“Stick to the schedule,” 65536 beams, “If you don’t, Shiny Nose will tell me.”

“I will, I will,” 10k smiles back, “My body won’t let me overdo it anyway.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay one more day?” this time, while still generalized, 156’s words are more aimed at Whispershade and 387 standing by 65536’s cart.

“156, the last time I was outside the hive for longer was for the invasion of Canterlot. The time before that was when we fled to the Badlands under Big Floaty’s grandmother the first place,” 387 smiles at Chrysalis standing between 156 and 10k, “For the first time in… holes, it could actually be over a thousand years, I feel comfortable leaving things in someone else’s hooves. I want to see how the world has changed, how ponies and others feel about us. I want to know if we can spread again, and I want to know if there are more of us still alive,” he glances at Whispershade.

“There are a couple and they’ll be happy to meet the secret guide of successful changeling escapees,” says Whispershade warmly before giving a short but courteous bow to Chrysalis, “Queen, I… I still can’t put my faith in you, but I can put it in 387. We’ve lived through the horrors our rulers put our species through, and if he finally feels there’s a Queen worthy of her hive, I defer to his judgement and I wish you the best,” he looks at 10k, “Same goes for you, little guy. We’ll try to reestablish some kind of changeling community in Canterlot, and thanks to 65536 I think it might not take long. If any drones or their companions decide to visit, they’ll have a safe place to rest.”

“I might take you up on that sooner than you think,” says Chrysalis, “With the political and social situation of changelings shifting towards the better, I’m toying with some ideas for an… outreach program, both for ponies as well as changelings who might want to reconnect with their roots. It won’t be tomorrow or in a couple months, but the time will come.”

387 walks over and kisses 156 before approaching 10k and pulling it into a hug.

“You’re doing my job now. Holes, you’ve been doing bigger and bigger part of it for some time now,” he says when he rises up again, “9999 and 36658 would be proud of what you’ve achieved. One day I’ll return and I’ll turn every breaky time into story time for months on end.”

10k senses a strange mental marker form inside the drone section of the hive mind, signed with “Open it if things start turning grim again”. It can only nod, overwhelmed by a mix of pride, fear, and grief.

“I’m not good with goodbyes,” says Chrysalis.

387 reaches out and boops her, enjoying her reflexive snarl and bared fangs.

“Not only with those, because this isn’t a goodbye. It’s just a ‘See you later’,” 387 turns around, facing Whispershade and 65536, “Ready?”

“Yup,” 65536 waves at everyone.

“Yes,” says Whispershade, able to read 387’s emotions better than anyone else, “More importantly, are you?”

387 glances over his shoulder back at Chrysalis and wipes his eyes.

“No, but standing here won’t make it easier,” he looks outside through the hive entrance again, “65536, you know the route the best. Lead the way.”

As they leave into the snowstorm, 387 hears:

“I’ll miss you.”

“Don’t worry, 156. Nothing will stop me from coming back with a present matching all you’ve given me.”

With that, the hive link closes, the snowstorm obscures 387’s sight of the hive, and the new world awaits.

Author's Note

And there we have it, the drone trilogy is finished. I think I'll call it New Order.
How shocking is it to get an unambiguously good ending?
Anyway, thanks for sticking around and reading, I hope it was worth the time spent. I also hope that you're here not just because of habit and that I'm getting somewhat better. Considering that I was looking up some references in older stories recently, I reread bits and pieces and I can't say that's the case.

(A)Way (from) home: 1

Freezing wind howls through the Everfree forest, bringing with it a shower of snow falling from the overburdened tree canopies. This year’s winter in Equestria has been particularly cold, forcing any creature without a good reason to stay indoors as much as possible. The cold and inhospitable weather, however, had one crucial benefit - it cleared out the hostile Everfree fauna and flora almost in its entirety, which suits the only current traveller busy with trudging through the deep snow and seemingly unbothered by the permanent darkness just fine.

Said traveller is an equine, tiny compared even to the bushes they’re pushing through and much more so to a heavily loaded cart many times their size which they’re pulling with practiced skill. Still, the unusual amount of snow does seem to be a worthwhile adversary, at least according to the non-stop muttering of the creature.

“I’m late, I’m late, I’m late. I know the guys won’t mind if I don’t make it in time, but- whoa whoa! Veeery slippery,” the equine takes a step and falls up to its neck into snow, “Damn you, sudden, unexpected hole! You used to be such a good friend whenever a gribbler chased me, the best kind of hole even, and now this? Betrayal!” one leg rises from the snow, shaking vindictively despite the muffled voice containing no venom or even frustration at its situation whatsoever.

On a closer look, any details of the tiny equine are obscured by layers upon layers of thick clothing including a wooly cap with side flaps and a hood over it, which leaves peeking out only a pair of goggles strapped around their head and a faint, teal shimmer hiding behind them. The muzzle itself is covered by multiple scarves stuck into a poofy, reflective, grey winter jacket. Clearly well-insulated from the frost and snow, the equine-shaped ball of clothes with legs sticking out gradually digs itself out of the hole, clears out some of the nearby snow with its hooves, briefly assesses the cart behind it, and resumes pulling.

The traveller occasionally stops, unbuckling themselves from the cart’s harness, and explores the surrounding trees, wiping off the snow from their bark roughly above their eye level. Often, they only need to uncover a singular tree that way, revealing easily visible arrow scratch marks deep in the tree bark, but whenever they fail, they take off a thick hoof cover from one of their forelegs and, with a green flash, scratch a new one into the unmarked tree before quickly putting the hoof cover back on and resuming pulling the cart. Some of the marks seem old, partially regrown, meaning that the traveller must have taken this route many times before, something which their experience at pulling the cart across frozen streams with lines of rocks spread exactly wheel-wide hints at as well.

Eventually, the seemingly solid treeline of the Everfree starts thinning out, announcing the final stretch of the forest journey, and the traveller spots a familiar clearing where they usually catch a breath and take stock of everything before crossing over into the Badlands. Said familiarity, however, makes the small equine confidently stride forward and immediately trip over a root hidden under the treacherous snow.

“Eep!” they yelp, rolling forward, pushed by the heavy cart, until both slide down a small slope into the clearing, the pony now a ball of snow hanging by the harness between the handles of the sideways overturned cart. After shaking their head and letting loose the snow caught on their many scarves wrapped around their neck and muzzle, the pony frees themselves with several experienced tugs at the harness’ straps and drops into the disturbed snow, “Oh goop, I hope nothing broke!”

With surprising strength for such a small pony, they push the cart the right way up again and begin inspecting a huge package repeatedly wrapped in waterproof tarp and fastened with multiple ropes which is taking up almost the entire cart, mostly by random prodding.

“Hmmm, the padding seems to be fine, and it’s not as if I can get back in time to replace anything anyway,” they sigh and scrunch their muzzle in determination. Well, probably, because the clothes and goggles reveal absolutely nothing about the traveller, “The guys won’t mind a few cracks or dents anyway. They add personality.”

Next, they inspect a second, smaller package in front of the cart, this time in much more detail, revealing a strange mix of a crate and a suitcase split into many sections containing various household items and weatherproofed packages. Of course, smaller this time only means that it could still comfortably fit the tiny traveller inside with enough space left over, which actually seems to be the point of one section of the strange design. When the traveller finishes their inspection, they turn around to resume their journey and find themself facing a pair of glowing yellowish-green eyes locked on them.

“Uh oh, you sticky biters are pretty sneaky in that snow, you know that? Or maybe Luna overdid it with the flappy caps this time. I told her I’d be fine with just two…” they spread their legs for stability, facing the now growling timberwolf that’s approaching, ready to pounce, and quickly taking off their hoof covers, “Shouldn’t you be hype- hiber- hyper napping during freezy time?”

The timberwolf pounces, mouth full of sharp teeth ready to rip the traveller into pieces open.

“Itwasjustasuggestion!” the equine darts just enough to the side to avoid the mouth snapping their way mid-jump. Before the following swipe of the timberwolf’s foreleg can connect, though, the black hoof the equine glows green and, in one swing aimed near the wolf’s barrel, the traveller punches the wolf’s leg clean off with seemingly no resistance. As the wolf lands on the ground, losing balance post-pounce suddenly with only three legs, the traveller quickly hops towards its barrel and shatters the wolf’s wooden skull with a green-glowing right hook.

“Eeep, coldcoldcoldcold!” the traveller immediately finds their hoof covers again, wipes their forelegs off using a semi-frozen piece of cloth hanging from the side of the cart, blows on them, and puts the covers on again, “Heee, much better.”

Its ears twitch, or at least the set of hats and a fluffy hood drawn over the traveller’s head moves, and they turn away from the cart once more, now revealing five more timberwolves who growl when their prey faces them.

“Okay, this is not gablonk,” the traveller’s voice turns serious, “Where’s a good hole when you need one?”

***

Deep underground, one would expect there to be eerie silence, interrupted only occasionally by dripping water or maybe a quiet skitter of some insect hunting or falling prey to a different creature. Here, however, in a tunnel which looks distinctly unnatural with its smoothed out walls and floor dotted with shallow grooves, echoes the thundering of hooves which is almost drowned out by the screeching of… something extremely hungry.

A duo of small, black equines with glowing teal eyes, chitinous carapace covering their body, and various holes in their legs round a bend in the tunnel, gasping for air and galloping as fast as they can. The ‘why’ becomes apparent a second later when a horrifying, wriggling mass of black centipedes so thick that they look like a living carpet spurts out like sludge pushed through a pipe. The ravenous insects are quick, and it’s clear that the main reason why the two fleeing changeling drones haven’t been caught yet are the smooth tunnel walls narrowing towards the ceiling on which a good chunk of the mass is trying to climb and failing, slowing others down in the process.

Unlike the changelings most ponies would recall either personally from the Canterlot invasion, the descriptions in the newspapers which followed, or the pictures and photos circulating afterwards, these changeling drones, while still small compared even to a pony, look leaner, are more agile, and one can vaguely even see their carapace copying the shape of something someone healthy would call muscles. In short, these are still recognizably changeling drones, though seemingly ones that got a dose of the good old ‘being at least occasionally fed and doing basic exercise’.

All those advantages and changes which benefited the drones, from their physical health to the grooves in the floor of the tunnel itself giving their hooves better friction so that they don’t slip and run faster, are what’s still keeping the duo alive.

At least until the entire tunnel rumbles and shakes, and one of the drones trips over its own hoof, falling on the floor. The other one only glances backwards and grits its teeth when the lying drone doesn’t even try to stand up, and just nods. A fraction of a second later, it hears a hiss, a faint poof sounding like a sudden rush of foam or steam, and keeps running.

Author's Note

As always - suggestions, ideas, interactions, or anything else are welcome.
I'm not sure about update schedule yet.
Finally, if anyone wants to draw a fitting cover of better quality than Nameless(TM-totally mutilated), I'll definitely use it.

(A)Way (from) home: 5

99911 scouts ahead as 99689’s mental signature approaches at high speed, the green egg in its leg hole ready for throwing. 99689 is clearly tired from the prolonged escape, but 10000’s planned interception route leading through the newly dug utility holes serving both as quick emergency access and secondary air vents has gotten them where they needed to be before the pursued victim could run out of stamina.

99911 spits at the layer of goop protecting the final emergency hole from non-changeling access one level above where 99689 is fleeing through, the goop immediately pops like a bubble, and it jumps into the uncovered narrow tunnel. Moments later, it lands on the layer of goop covering the bottom, which it dissolves the same way.

“Ready!” it reports, and hears the grinding of chitin as the three following drones slide through the now unblocked emergency tunnel. Someone will later have to re-goop the vents they used to quickly get here, but right now it’s critical they protect 99689 and rescue 99441 if possible.

99689 is galloping towards them, followed by the skittering and high-pitched screeching of dozens of black centipede-like creatures.

There isn’t much time, so 99911 raises its foreleg and lobs the green egg directly from the leg hole as if using a lacrosse stick.

Here’s hoping that 99859’s inventions still work!

The jiggly, green egg hits the ground behind 99689 and pops like a water balloon on impact, painting the tunnel’s floor, walls, and even the ceiling with a toxic, glowing, green sludge. Some of it hits 99689’s hind legs and the drone yelps in pain, tripping and tumbling forward where it gets caught by 10000 who immediately shakes itself like a wet dog and starts spitting foam all over the decidedly acidic residue from the egg’s pressurized explosion.

99689’s gasping for breath mixes with hisses of pain, but it manages to let out a mental breath of relief:

“Thanks, guys!”

“Don’t worry,” replies 10000, “A sleepy time or two and you’ll be good as new.”

The first wave of the centipedes mindlessly charges into the green sludge and screech as their legs and carapaces rapidly melt in it. Next waves try to push through, crawling over the remains of the first wave’s carapaces, and they’re quickly met with 99911’s second egg now revealed to be a peculiar homemade variant of an acid bomb upon which 99112 supports it with its own two charges.

The surviving centipedes stop pushing ahead and start swarming along the line of the green sludge. 99112 nods towards 99158 with the barrel on its back, the two drones swap places, 99158 shakes in a way similar to 10000, and aims the nozzle towards the centipedes.

99111, let’s see how the nozzle holds up in a field test.

“Oof!” 99158 winces as the knockback from the shotgun-like burst of pressurized liquid shakes its entire foreleg, but holds steady. At first, nothing seems to happen with the centipedes, but when a second blast covers the tunnel in liquid the screeching briefly turns extremely loud before dying off completely. Just to be safe, 99158 pulls the lever on the nozzle a third time, but nothing happens and there’s no resistance, as if something inside it broke.

“I think 99111’s invention broke, guys, so we’re left with four acid booms.”

The acrid-smelling smoke clears as the green particles drop to the floor, revealing only bubbling mess left behind by the dissolving centipedes. Several still remain beyond the area of green death, but in such low numbers they’re easy to simply stomp and crush by the four drones carefully flying through the danger zone without touching any part of the green walls and while holding their breath. 99689 remains lying in the “safe” part, hinds legs covered in 10000’s foamy goop.

Several minutes of careful but hurried passage through the tunnel costs the drones two more acid bombs and a lot of stomping, but finally they reach a porous green wall entirely blocking their way.

“Be careful. It looks like the ‘emergency cocoon’ worked perfectly,” 10000 breathes out in relief as it senses 99441’s weak hive link from inside the block of wall, “and thank holes for that, but if we accidentally dig through then the pincery swarm noodles that are blocked off will get to us.”

99911 nods and begins digging off layer after layer of the green wall until it sees a darker spot illuminated by the light of 10000’s glowgoop stick. One quick delve later, 99911 pulls out 99441 by the forelegs tucked close to its body. The drone doesn’t react or do anything after being freed until 10000 mentally pokes its hive link, upon which it gasps for air with a jolt and quickly turns its head from side to side.

“Ouch!” it croaks, “Bad idea.”

“You’re okay,” 99911 whispers, “A warrior with an Angry Shiny is finally on the way and they’ll clean up the tunnel.”

“Did 99689 make it?”

“Yup!” 99158 beams, “Got melted a bit by an acid boom but it’s nothing some rest wouldn’t fix. Let’s get you back home,” it helps 99441 stand up and supports it until it gets its blood flowing again after the brief forced hibernation.

“Thank holes for the emergency cocoon,” 99441 breathes out a sigh of relief, “99111 and 99856 did a great job with those. I gotta thank them as soon as I can.”

As two of the response team drones help the two victims take the long way back to the High Score cavern, the final member splits off to re-seal the quick access tunnels with goop, and 10000 limps behind. With a sigh of relief, it looks around at the improved tunnel structure, the overall architecture, and at the glowgoop now faded due to 10000 not feeding it love anymore.

You’ve put everything you gained on that island to good use and you’re making things better with every day. 36658 made the right choice.

Despite the proof of that statement surrounding 10000 on all sides, why is it so difficult to believe that?

Several turns of the tunnel later, limping 10000 catches up with 99911 and 99158 who are explaining the situation to a warrior with a flamethrower on his back.

“-there’s a barrier of acid so you’ll need to fly through. We haven’t explored past the emergency wall,” 99158 finishes describing the monster problem.

“Understood,” the warrior nods, “One of you stay here just in case I need you.”

“But we gotta get these two back home for healing,” says 99158, “and 10000 is in no shape to be working or carrying another drone all the way up. It could barely keep up with us just dropping through the emergency shafts.”

“Look, the flamethrower isn’t exactly a precision weapon and if anything slips through I might need-”

“It’s fine, I’ll do it,” says 10000.

“No, you won’t!” 99911 frowns, “Emergency rescues - our thing, you promised.”

10000 sighs and checks the warrior’s hive link for a rank.

“838, please, wait here and we’ll send someone healthy back to cover you the moment I can reach the links of everyone. Two- three minutes tops,” it says, “99158, 99911, move.”

The two drones carrying the wounded start running again and 10000 shuffles past the warrior who shoots it a disbelieving glare.

Alright, that’s it! You drones do what we tell you and you clearly need a reminder! If I have to throw a cripple in the way of a monster to safely clear an active tunnel section it’s better than a healthy drone.

The warrior forces its way into 10000’s hive link like it did numerous times before the Canterlot invasion, takes over, and…

…10000 just keeps walking, disappearing behind a bend in the tunnel.

“...what…?” the warrior whispers in disbelief.

His jaw dropped in shock, 838 doesn’t even call out or try to physically stop 10000.

This has never happened before.

***

“-and it resisted my control as well,” 838 finishes his report to the Queen herself and bows, the two being alone in the throne room on the warrior’s request.

“What do you mean resisted?” Chrysalis raises an eyebrow. A mid-rank like 838 wouldn’t screw up using his mental skills.

“Umm, maybe not resisted,” the warrior flinches at Chrysalis’ slow, probing, and suddenly cold tone, “I didn’t feel any pushback, it just… ignored it.”

“Hmmm,” the Queen rubs her chin, “What about the promised assistance and the tunnel cleanup?” she changes the subject.

“As promised, two drones arrived shortly and we cleaned up both the tunnels as well as the newly opened swarmer cavern,” reports 838, “The digging can continue.”

“Good job,” Chrysalis nods, “Refuel the flamethrower and return to your post.”

“And regarding the… problem, Your Majesty? They’re armed now and if we can’t control them…” 838 leaves the thought hanging in the air.

“Don’t be a complete dick to them like you were and I doubt you’ll have any trouble,” Chrysalis scowls at the warrior who backs a step away, “But I’ll think about what you said. Just. In. Case.”

Author's Note

Ta daa! Chapter 1 is finished.
Unlike before, we have a lot of things going on and I feel, from the comments, that it's a lot more chaotic and less understandable.

Oops!: 6

99856 finishes washing its muzzle prompted by 99000’s concern, and carefully slides its hoof over its mouth, feeling the small holes in the chitin.

“Hey, 99111?” it links up with the tinkerer in the workshop across the hall.

“What’s up?” a reply comes immediately.

“Hey, if you have some time, I’m gonna need a-”

“The hollow tube? Yeah, 99000 told me,” 99111 gets straight to the point, “I’m working on a mold for it right now. Do you need any special goop?”

“Umm, I’d like one made from alloy 219,” 99856 pauses, surprised by the swift response, “That one seems to ignore bad fizzies.”

“No problem, just bring some iron ore dust over in a couple minutes.”

“Thanks. I’ll finish washing myself and I’ll be there.”

99856 closes the link and turns off the tune inside its head currently playing from the hive mind’s jukebox created by 99380. Now able to perceive reality in full again, 99856 notes something extremely unusual.

Is it warm in here?

With only several exceptions, no drones have been on the surface during freezy time, but 57999 who works in and around the greenhouse did tell the others that, while still very cold, the High Score Cavern was still much warmer. However, comparatively warmer never meant warm, which is what makes 99856 look around after it’s finished cleaning itself. Come to think of it, it feels rather pleasant and makes the usual, prickly numbness of the drone’s leggos caused by the cold water slipping under its carapace go away quickly.

Weird, but I like it.

Humming to itself, 99856 finds the box with iron ore dust in the back of its laboratory, pours a small amount into a hoof-sized stone box, goops it to its back, and trots out into the hallway.

“Whoa, it’s even warmer out here,” the surprise makes it speak out loud, “Why would it- oh…” it stops, “Could it be?” it beams and rushes over to the door to the testing area.

As it absent-mindedly pushes the indentation in the door to slide it open, its hoof just slides through as if it was digging, leaving behind a burning residue on its hoof.

“OW OW OW! TOO WARM!” 99856 starts waving its foreleg and flinging the melting goop away, “TOO WA-!” the chemist starts coughing as, in addition to the blistering heat, the revealed hole lets out thick, black smoke which it breathes in.

Stumbling backwards, the drone gasps for rapidly diminishing breathable air. The first conscious thought on its mind, however, escapes over its lips in the form of an excited:

“IT BURNS SO MUCH BETTER THAN STICKS! YAAAAAAAY!” it starts coughing again, “N- No yay. At least not yay right now.”

It darts back into its lab to grab its water basin.

Water works for this, right?

After running back and throwing the equivalent of a cup of water aimlessly into the testing area through the now completely melted door, it evaluates the result.

“Oh goop…”

As the heavy, black smoke is spreading and melting the goop doors, 99856 has to admit it’s outmatched. It tries to reach out to 10k with its cooling goop foam, but the drone leader is out of reach.

“Meep…” it looks from side to side, lost in regard to what to do. That’s when 99111 pushes the still only partially melted door to its workshop away and steps into the hallway.

It has no clue when 99000 left, but that’s good because it means there’s only one panicking drone to deal with. Compared to the collapsing dwarf laboratory complex, this is nothing. The calm train of thought surprises 99111 itself, and it briefly ponders why it’s not panicking when the situation brings back the worst moment of its life, but the image of 36658’s determined expression as it orders everyone to help get 10k from under the crumbling complex in order to take its place answers.

There will be time for fear later. Now it’s time to think clearly.

Whatever 99856, frozen in terror, did, it has no clue how to fix it. The previous rare experiments with fire, however, always ended up with there being not enough fuel, which means that no matter what 99856 did with the coal for things to turn out this poorly, all they need is time.

99111 looks around, examining the area for clues.

There was always mess left behind, which they used for some new goop mixes, and it’s likely there will be more all over the place because the smoke is carrying small cinders and some ash flakes. It can’t be allowed to reach the experimental materials in 99856’s lab, the delicate parts in 99111’s workshop, and most importantly - the new coal storage.

All that happens within seconds before 99111 links up with 99856 and orders:

“Do exactly what I say!”

The chemist’s panic clears a little in face of the tinkerer’s confidence.

“The testing area is too hot to work around. We need to block access to the other rooms. We can dig out a new, rocky section of the tunnel and use the stones to block the smoke off. Don’t talk out loud, stay low, close to the floor, and breathe slowly. We don’t have much time.”

Now that the testing area door is gone, the furnace that the room’s become is spewing the burning smoke out freely and quickly filling the hallway. The other doors are beginning to melt due to the proximity, but since the lab and storage ones didn’t get broken through with a touch, they’re still holding. The door to the HSC itself is holding steady, being a little further away, but the goop is glistening already as well.

Step by step, 99111 leads 99856. They rush to the dead end of the tunnel where the tinkerer quickly digs out an alcove for itself. From there, it quickly starts peeling off narrow “planks” of stone, like thin bricks, which 99856 piles up to block the entrances to the three remaining rooms. Within only a few minutes, they’re finished, but the smoke cover is so thick they have to crawl so that they can still breathe.

The main door gives like jelly as 99111 tries to slide it sideways, so it just quickly drains the love from it, turning the goop into a small amount of liquid, and the two drones rush into the HSC followed by billowing, heavy, black clouds, gasping for air. The HSC is full of drones now, all a little on edge from the strange turn of events, but only watching. It wouldn’t be the first chemical experiment gone wrong, although the first one gone wrong to the level where it reaches them.

As 99111 quickly clears the distance halfway to the exit, the others get the idea and gather around it.

“None of the veterans are around. What do we do?” asks one drone, voicing everyone’s thoughts as they all look at 99111.

Voice, where is 10k?

“By the throne room.”

“10k isn’t here with its dousing goop, so we’ll have to solve this ourselves,” 99111 looks at the chemist, “99856, what have you learned about fire so far?”

“I mean, when I used sticks, it smelled for only a bit and quickly went out. This is all new,” 99856 points at the smoke spreading through the cavern, “When you and 10k said it was supposed to burn better, I thought it would burn more so I used a pretty big pile of goopy coal because we have so much now. I have no idea how long it’s going to burn or how much black floaty it’ll make.”

“Smoke, 99856. I don’t know much about smoke either, but it’s getting hotter and harder to breathe here too,” 99111 looks at the small sea of worried faces and raises its voice, “Everyone, let’s head out! I think you can keep your stashes here because it doesn’t look like there’s much that can burn- yes?” it looks at one foreleg that immediately shot up.

“I have some webby spinner webs that 65536 helped me gather last sleepy time,” says 99200, still wearing the spider web cloak, “It showed me how to make fire from them and they burn really well.”

“Alright, take those with you,” 99111 pauses, “Now that I think about it, you all might have to drain and melt your Scufflestick tinies. If sparks land on goop, it won’t end well.”

“I’m sorry, everyone,” says 99856 mournfully.

A moment of silence passes.

“Eh, it’s fine,” says someone.

“Yeah. You made us the emergency cocoons, and those things saved me twice already,” adds 99441, “If I have to remake my Scufflestick tinies from time to time so that we can get more awesome stuff, who cares?”

“Yeah!” cheers someone else.

“I have so many ideas on how to improve my tinies the next time over!” adds another voice.

“I’m soooo gonna play Gribblers this time!”

Voice after voice reaffirm and cheer up 99856 as drones rush to their stashes to drain the love from anything they have that’s made of goop. When the mad running around ends shortly after, 99111 head towards the exit of the High Score Cavern, calling out loudly:

“Follow me! We’re heading up until we can contact someone who knows what to do next.”

***

“Do you smell smoke too?” asks 99, standing up.

10k sniffs the air.

“Not really, but I’m starting to sense… uhh… everyone?” the drone looks towards the tunnel leading deeper into the hive, “What’s going on? I can’t get any clear message yet.”

99 chides herself for a stupid question to ask a drone -of course it wouldn’t smell the smoke when even she barely does- and begins checking the approaching hive links. After the first couple drones give her the same answer - to ask 99111, she targets the tinkerer directly.

“99111, what’s going on?”

“Thank holes, 99. 99856’s experiment went wrong and we’re not sure what to do-”

In the real world, 99 facehoofs. It was inevitable that at some point 99856 would combine the wrong types of resin together or something similar, it just didn’t have to happen at the exact moment when she’s the only one around. Focusing, she adds 99856 and 10k to the hive link conversation, and tells the two drones to recap the full story to her.

“Hmm, that sounds far less bad than I expected,” she concludes and broadcasts to everyone, “Come into the throne room, and you can stay here until either the smoke clears up or someone of high rank arrives and says otherwise.”

The throne room contains the hundred-or-so drones easily, but 99 has to immediately rush over to the stove which immediately becomes the first point of interest, mainly because there’s nothing else aside from the throne itself.

“Shoo! Don’t touch it!” she waves a drone who immediately starts tapping its hoof against the metal sheet of the stove in order to figure out what the unknown material is, “10k, deal with this! We already have one fire catastrophe on our hooves.“

“Everyone, clear out a circle around the fireplace!” orders 10k calmly.

An order from a high rank supplanted by the drone leader’s wish immediately makes everyone but 99111 back off, although the tinkerer remains circling around the stove, watching. In light of that, 99 finally asks, “What’s with the extra arm? Does it work? Isn’t an enhancement like that against love-wasting rules?”

“Nope, I grew it over a long time so now it’s not even a transformation. It’s just another limb.”

“Well color me surprised, that’s interesting,” she pokes the arm with her hoof and gets grabbed, “Fully functional too. I guess that in principle it’s the same thing that warriors do by growing their muscles or infiltrators slowly enhancing certain parts of their physiology to achieve a particular look. Might be a fun thing to experiment with, although I’m not sure a bunch of drones running around on spider legs would improve our public image.”

“Hmmm, extra legs you say?” 99111 purses its lips, thinking about the idea, “To defeat the leggy spinners, one must become even leggier.”

“What in all holes is going on here?!” 387’s voice rings through the air as he gallops into the throne room, 65536 standing on its back with its forelegs on his head.

10k, uninterested in 99 questioning 99111, is already there to meet them.

“99856 was experimenting with coal and figured out that our vent system is critically insufficient if we want to start using it. Unfortunately, that means that our cavern will be temporarily unlivable. It probably won’t be for long, but I can’t be sure.”

“Ooooh, that’s great!” 65536 beams, bouncing atop 387 who simply reaches up with his foreleg, bending it into a seemingly impossible angle, grabs the guard drone, and puts it on the floor without it losing an ounce of its enthusiasm, “I asked the Queen if she would give you all an entire worky time off for something special I had planned this Hard Swarming. This is the right time!”

Through their much better hive links, 387 quickly receives the full story about the fire from 99.

“Where is Chrysalis any-”

Two hive links appear out of nowhere, originating from the ceiling and belonging to 156 and the Queen.

“-way? Ah, nice of you to drop by,” the warrior looks up at the two who must have been experimenting with the ‘skip’ leading into the throne room.

“Look, a big floaty high rank!” one drone points up, finally noticing what to it now feels like an omnipresent hive link.

10k facehoofs.

Chrysalis, though, lands directly in front of the offending drone and looks down, her stare intense.

“That’s Queen Big Floaty High Rank to you, 99954,” she says slowly.

“Okay!” 99954 nods cheerfully, “So, everyone, this is Queen Big… Floaty…” its voice grows quieter as its head catches up to its mouth, “Oh goop.”

“Chrysalis, stop-” 387 starts walking over to the Queen but freezes when he catches the glare she shoots him next.

“Warrior 387, you fail to address me properly,” she raises to her full height, towering over the tiny drones as well as the three high ranks.

Without reading 99954’s mind, 387 knows without a shadow of a doubt that the drone’s trying to figure out the fastest way to become invisible.

Chrysalis, I understand that you want to preserve the image of yourself less as a changeling and more as a natural force within the hive, and that you’re acting all haughty and powerful so that the vast majority of the drones who are seeing you for the first time never forget the image. But I also know this ‘you’ would never act like this anymore in a smaller circle even with drones present.

So…

Let me do what I do best.

“Your Majesty!” 387 bows, “As your top security officer, I must inform you about a special, anti-Queen weapon that’s about to be used against you.”

“What?” Chrysalis leans back.

387 grabs 65536 standing by his side and lobs it at Chrysalis.

“65536, HUG ATTACK!”

“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!” the projectile spreads all four legs which it clamps around Chrysalis’ neck.

“387, I’m going to PEEL YOUR CARAPACE OFF OF YOU BEFORE-!” Chrysalis mentally screams at the warrior.

“Get hugged,” he shoots back with a smug smirk, “I know you’re interacting mostly with high ranks, but I thought you’ve learned by now that earning respect works differently with drones.”

Chrysalis quickly unhooks the little neck-hugger from herself, and sends it flying through the air again with just a quick flick of her hoof. Before anything else can happen, she retreats onto the raised throne and lies down, her eyes shooting daggers at 387. 99 flies up as well, quickly reporting what happened in the HSC while 156 listens through her hive link. When the report’s done, 156 calls several changelings into the darkness of the hive mind.

“Your Majesty. If nothing else, we should consider this incident as a way to combat this winter’s cold,” 156 starts.

“We're bound to require larger vents,” adds 387 as if his stand-off against Chrysalis didn’t happen, “This won’t work with multiple small ones. Especially if we move on from just heating the place up to building a forge in the long run as 10k suggested some time ago. Unfortunately, I’m not versed in how ponies deal with problems like these at present. The industrial technology was vastly different when I used to work outside the hive.”

“I AM! The vents in Canterlot castle are nice and cozy, but Royal Guards get annoyed when I crawl through there, so I don’t do it much, but I still do it,” 65536 beams, “Plus, I know a little bit about basic blacksmithing. All Nightguards have to know how to fix their armor in case a proper blacksmith isn’t around.”

“We do have some ideas about what vent designs are useful in what depth, Your Majesty. Even much deeper than we’ve ever dug,” adds 10k, “Thanks to what we learned from 10101. We, of course, won’t be able to recreate the needed materials, but I think what we need is more the general idea about how to build vents effectively for other purposes than just letting us breathe.”

“It’ll require knowledge we still don’t have, but from what 65536 told me during its previous visit, access to fire is THE requirement for creating materials that don’t rely on goop. This could lower our love usage even further,” 99111 adds its two bits to the conversation.

“I’ve got you a book called the En-cyclops-centipeedia about that- oops!” 65536 clamps its hooves over its mouth, “Awww, that was supposed to be a secret present. Well, now that that’s out, it has some advice for you, 99856, too.”

“Ooooh! I can’t wait to try everything!” the eyes of the final member of the conversation light up, “And I promise I’ll be as far away as possible when I try to light something up,” 99856 finishes the sales pitch.

“I can start working on the planning right now,” says 10k, “And, to check on the fire, I know just the right three drones to periodically run down and tell us how it’s going. Where are they anyway?”

“They were scanning the tunnels with 99380,” explains 99111, instantly catching on to whom 10k means, “It caught my mental message and said it will bring them up here later.”

“Ah yes, the speedrunners,” 156 nods.

“Quicktrotters,” 10k corrects her, “They trot quickly, not run, uhh, speedily.”

“Meh, makes sense,” 156 shrugs.

Chrysalis takes a deep breath and very slowly lets it out.

“None of you, maybe with the exception of mister smartass over here,” she narrows her eyes at 387, “have any idea how risky what you’re suggesting is. Throughout our history, every single time we settled a place to the point where we were visible on a map it only led enemies to us. This hive is a fortress, parts of which are protected against magic that even the alicorns possess, but there are hundred and fifty of us in total. We can’t stop an army, even one without magic. If we screw up here, and if we’re possible to be found, we’re done. 387, you know that our species’ fate was often the responsibility of our Queens, but not always. There are circumstances beyond our control, and prejudices that come with who we are no matter what we do.”

In response, 387 just looks at 65536.

“It will be a challenge, but we’ve been tested before and came out on top. Besides, doesn’t the old saying go like ‘In good times, prepare for bad times’ or something?”

“That’s what 36658 kept saying…” mutters 10k.

“Fine,” Chrysalis sighs, “But 387, I need a proper, objective threat assessment. I mean it this time. I can’t have you favoring drones in this.”

“Your Majesty, you’re forgetting something I’ve been trying to emphasize ever since we started working together - first and foremost, I serve the hive,” the warrior bows.

“Pompous ass,” Chrysalis rolls her eyes and makes everyone’s senses return to the real world.

The warrior takes 10k, 65536, 99111, and 99856 to a corner where he tells them to link up, and they start examining the hive mind map in order to plan the new vent system.

While 99 and 156 wonder what to do with the huddled-up drones waiting for their next instructions, Chrysalis relaxes on the throne. It doesn’t last long before a drone peeks its head through a hole in the back support and, seemingly pleased by the discovery, flies up on the throne to join the Queen who opens a single eye, noticing the white, fluffy cargo on the drone’s back.

“What do you want and why are you hauling that mess with you, 99200?” she asks.

“It’s really cold up here so I want to show you something 65536 taught me!”

“Sure, why not? Amuse me,” Chrysalis shrugs, still not interested enough to open the second eye.

99200 measures her for a while, leaning from side to side to get her dimensions, before it begins fiddling with the load of spiderwebs it brought. Chrysalis doesn’t really try to figure out what the drone is doing, yawns, and closes her eye again. Once the drone wants something, it’ll speak out again.

It doesn’t take long and something soft lands on her.

“Hmm?” she looks at the web covering her.

“It’s a body warmer- uhh a blanket!” 99200 beams. This close to high ranks as well as all the other drones, it’s a lot easier to find the right words.

“Hmm,” Chrysalis examines the makeshift hem connecting three sheets of webbing together. The workmanship is shoddy at best, but the blanket does serve its purpose, “You drones are big on trading, right? What do you want for it?”

“Nothing!” 99200 shakes its head, “It’s Hard Swarming. I heard that you keep letting 65536 come back here every freezy time even though it lives with the ponies and it taught me to make these,” it tugs at the blanket, “So, in a sense, I’m giving back for you letting 65536 teach me. I can get more leggy spinner webs easily during freezy time.”

“I’m satisfied with that. Good job,” Chrysalis is about to let her head rest again when a different drone peeks through a large hole near her tail, sniffs it, and starts chewing on it, “And what in all holes do you think you’re doing?!”

“It’s so full of love!” the drone mumbles through its teeth still harmlessly nibbling on Chrysalis’ teal tail.

“Prepare your wings,” says Chrysalis, eyes narrowing.

“Wh-yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?” the drone gets flung through the air with a flick of the Queen’s tail.

This proves to be much less of a deterrent than Chrysalis hoped, because the other drones notice and immediately start flying or crawling up the throne.

“Do me! Do me now!” the fastest one bites down on the tail, “READY!”

This time she doesn’t even bother with a warning and throws the drone away again, hitting three others on its way who don’t seem discouraged by it at all.

“Me next!” yells someone.

“156, ASSIST ME! YOUR QUEEN IS BEING VICIOUSLY ATTACKED!” calls out Chrysalis, surrounded by a ball of drones.

The infiltrator looks up from her conversation with 99 and, with glacial calm, kicks the can down the road:

“387, the enemy is too numerous! This calls for a warrior.”

387 groans and interrupts the vent planning process.

“DRONES!” he raises his voice, which makes every head turn towards him. Everything goes silent with the exception of buzzing wings of the hovering drones, “Don’t forget that she is THE QUEEN. That means that only the best and biggest hug pile will satisfy her.”

With a somewhat genuinely furious scream of-

“THREE-EIGHT-SEVEEEEEEEEN!”

-Chrysalis drowns under a pile of drones.

The warrior turns back to his small group.

“So, where were we?”

Author's Note

Finally some breakthrough in writing. It's shocking that what I was missing all this time was wine.

I also realized that this story is far more scattered than any other, because I'm not structuring it as coherent chapters, rather than as a randomly split string of events. It must be pretty shit to read per update. Probably much more worth to tackle it at once when it's completed. But don't do that, comments keep me going. :rainbowlaugh: It's the only dopamine I get these days.

Power of perseverance: 3

One previously exhausted Nightguard drone wakes up, wrapped in a soft cocoon of webbing, after over-exerting itself yesterday. Its internal clock synchronizes itself with the hive’s, and shows that it’s several hours into worky time. A brief mental check of its surroundings shows that 10k and three other drones are still in the High Score Cavern, all asleep. One drone is resting off an injury, already a barely imaginable idea for a drone as old as 65536, and the final two are 99111 and 99856.

No excuse to be lazy, 65536. You’re still not finished with setting everything up, and Hard Swarming is tomorrow.

65536 frees itself from 99200’s web blanket and climbs out of the unused alcove it’s borrowing. With the HSC empty, it trots over to the open area in the back where drones do yoga, and takes roughly half an hour to stretch and do some basic exercise on its own. By the time it’s done, no one has woken up, but no matter how little it wants to bother the others, it has to. Still yawning but ready to take another day head on, 65536 returns to 99111’s workshop where the tinkerer and the alchemist are both on the floor, seemingly having just dropped down where they stood at some point. Strange, neither of the drones is starved for love as this level of exhaustion would presume. Its guard instinct kicks in and it examines the fast sleepers while considering the options and comes up with only one, and there’s a friend who can confirm it.

“Hey, Voice, can you hear me? It’s okay if you’re still busy with 99, you don’t need to answer if that’s the case.”

“No one needs my presence right now, so feel free to say what you need,” replies Voice.

“Just two things - did 99111 and 99856 pass out in exhaustion and will they get in trouble if they’re not doing whatever is on their today’s schedule? The hive mind information I can access on my own is severely limited, and I don’t want to wake 10k up.”

“They’re both doing well,” replies Voice after a brief pause, “99856 got a special request from 10k regarding an experimental emergency cocoon. 99111 filled another barrel of cleaning goop. Later, the two got carried away while assembling the generator you brought and kept working well into sleepy time before someone forced them to go to sleep. I can only sense an order that shut them both down, not who it came from. As for your second concern, the schedule was changed by 10k shortly after you left. Now it says they’re only supposed to be working on the generator.”

“Thank you, Voice. Dismissed,” 65536’s guard persona briefly wins again before it walks over to 99856 and gently shakes it awake.

“Wait- what- who-” 99856’s head jerks up, “Ah, I’m late!” it exclaims, which wakes 99111 up as well, and both drones exchange glances before seemingly noticing 65536.

“What happened?” asks 99111, rubbing its eyes, “We didn’t finish the generator, did we? I remember the pictures starting to look all wobbly at some point.”

65536 looks around. There are still numerous parts carefully laid out on the floor along with the blueprints. Strangely, there’s still only one goop barrel in the back of the workshop, and that one was there yesterday.

“I can’t blame you. When I was assembling furniture the first time I also thought the blueprints were for something entirely different.”

Neither of the hive drones has any clue what “furniture” means, but if 65536 had trouble with it then it had to be something super complex.

“My worky time schedule says I’m supposed to help you finish this off, so do we keep going, 99111?” asks 99856, unbothered by randomly passing out last night.

“Same here, so let’s keep going,” the tinkerer stands up and stretches like a cat, “Unless you need us to do something else, 65536, that is.”

“There is one thing, but we can talk about it while you work,” 65536 walks over to the workbench with the disassembled gramophone. Upon closer examination, it’s clear that 99111 didn’t use force because some parts which are glued together and wouldn’t go apart without breaking are still in one piece. Once again, 65536 is impressed with the care and attention to detail, which only makes it stranger that it’s taken so long to make a simple spring replacement.

There must be something critical that I’m missing.

With the two drones quietly chatting after resuming assembling the generator, 65536 walks to the stone shelves in the back full of tablets and has to squint to read the microscopic carvings. The tablets are thinner and the writing is smaller and more neat than 99856’s but it also makes it more difficult to make out. Disappointed in itself, 65536 brings a random tablet to a currently unused workbench, hucks out a glob of glowgoop, and almost presses its nose to the tablet in order to read it.

“Wish I had a magnifying glass…” it mutters.

Out of curiosity at the unknown term, 99111 glances its way and chuckles.

“Ah hah! Time to show you my newest invention!”

To 65536’s surprise, 99111 doesn’t produce a goop magnifying glass. Instead, it walks over, borrows the small glowgoop ball from 65536, slides it over the tablet where just the tiniest amount of it remains as if on a cheese grater, and pours a little love into it. The carvings on the tablet light up, making even the small text easy to read.

“Wow!” enunciates 65536, taken aback completely, “That’s amazing.”

“Hehe, thanks,” 99111 beams at the praise, “It’s nothing special, though. Just glowgoop.”

“Whoooa!” 99856 trots over too, “I can’t believe I never looked at your tablets. I can’t make scribbles this tiny. It looks so neat!”

“Of course you can,” 99111 pats its head, “It just takes much more time than writing normally.”

65536 skims the material combinations written on tablet after tablet in silence, noticing that there’s a clean split between tablets containing combinations marked with hive mind equivalents of a check mark and those without it. Seeing that the interruption is over for now, the remaining two resume their work as well. Eventually, though, 65536 asks:

“99111, what do the check marks mean?”

“Just stuff that I already tried for the spring,” replies the tinkerer quickly.

“There are a lot of combinations with tags that make no sense to try - low strain resistance, solid, and so on. There are even tags like flexibility and elasticity here, with numeric scales too.”

99111 scratches its head.

“Well, you see, there were a lot of numbers and weird words that we got from the smart box, but there’s no one who knows what they mean. I figured out the strain resistance thing, I think. It might mean those mixes break easier when you smack something with them.”

65536 sighs. Now the slow progress makes sense, although it’s even more impressive that there has been any progress at all. Both 99111 and 99856 have been experimenting with reason alloys from scratch.

I’ve been around ponies for too long. I completely forgot this could be a problem in the hive.

It knows that while talking between drones can transfer the right concepts using fragmented or made-up words, hive link hints, and body language, they don’t know the pony words so they can’t search for the right things even if they wrote the symbols on the walls and stored them in the hive mind. That’s why reading and writing are two of the most difficult things for drones without the presence of a high rank with knowledge to tap into. Also why the difference between what drones think they’re saying and what ponies hear when talking to them can be huge. There’s no doubt that 99111 knows what flexibility is, it just has no idea what the pony word flexibility means written down.

I should have known…

“I see,” it says, “Can you give me access to your hive mind records, both of you? Those unknown words are simplified engineering terms and I think the numbers mark how much the term applies. Let’s take flexibility and elasticity for example - flexibility means the ability to bend without breaking, and elasticity means the ability to return to its original shape after being pulled or compressed- pushed against. I’ll write down explanations as a reference for you.”

“Ohhhhhhh!” 99111 freezes for a moment, the gears inside its head turning, “I wish I knew that a lot earlier.”

“My bad,” 65536 shakes its head, “I should have-”

“It’s fine, buddy,” says 99111 warmly, “I should have asked you last freezy time. I know the Queen doesn’t let us share everything with you so you can’t have known at the time.”

“I guess,” admits 65536, “It just sucks… you know, you were stuck for a full year for such a silly reason.”

99111 waves its extra leg dismissively.

“Hey, at least I learned how to, well, learn on my own. Same with 99856 here. And now, next time you visit us, I’ll totally get the music box all fixed and ready!”

“Yup!” the alchemist nods cheerfully while working, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll make the springiest goop mix of all.”

65536 smiles. It wouldn’t say it in front of its pony friends and family, but the yearly visits to the hive aren’t just for the good and growth of other drones. After such a long time between ponies who are always worried about the future, about their current situation, about everything… it needs to talk to other drones to regain perspective.

“I’ll be looking forward to it,” it replies, “Now finish off the generator while I look up all the tags you’ve discovered so far and add explanations.”

It sits down, its consciousness melding with the hive mind, while 99111 and 99856 resume working.

Wait, there’s an archivist whose job it is to analyze information now.

“Voice, I’m going to need a little assistance here.”

***

99 is walking through the hive tunnels towards the meeting place with 415. The path she’s chosen is a little less direct but much safer, because she’s entirely lost in thought.

Alright, 99, you’ve confirmed it. The attempt to implicate 2119 makes it clear that 415’s angle of ranked changelings being just scared for their own safety was a lie to make you join them. The presumed drone militarization must be a believable cover to fall back on in case their plot is discovered.

So, how do I stop it? I could tell 156 and the Queen, but they must be ready for them or at least their presence must be easy to track so the conspirators can clear out if either of them is coming to wipe them out. Presumably, 387 is on their trail as well but hasn’t discovered enough to act. This makes me the one in the best position to deal with the problem. Of course, if I try to kill six ranked changelings on my own it won’t end well. Taking the mind control approach likely won’t work either because I still have no idea how their powerful mind protection works. Whenever I talked to 415, his link wasn’t disabled or anything. Speaking of which, how do I protect myself so that I don’t end up mind wiped like what almost happened when I was looking for information on the Queen’s daughter?

It might not be as bad. Last time I was exhausted after searching distant minds for hours. Still, no reason to underestimate the enemy. What is my strength? I’m neither a mental master nor an unstoppable fighter, so… it’s just… being in the right place at the right time? If I approach with my hive link cut completely, I can say that I’m keeping myself safe from the Queen’s mind probing while my cover story for her is that I’m practicing how to resist mental attacks in my free time. As far as I know, opening someone’s hive link by force is difficult but mainly it’s near impossible to keep it a secret, so if I get attacked in such a way I should get enough of a warning to flee and call for help.

Hmmm, could the drones help? No, not by using force. Even if the conspirators really fear the potential drone weapons, their real usefulness at the moment is extremely limited and any conflict would just end with swaths of dead drones for no major benefit. As for mental support, Voice already said it can’t affect the unwilling, and if the mental shield was enough of a cover against the Queen, 99380 won’t be much use either. Still, calling for help through them could be the last resort in case everything goes wrong.

With potential situations and their shaky solutions running through her mind, 99 eventually reaches the meeting place. Of course, the smugly smirking warrior is already waiting there.

Time to put on your best “smart but not smart enough face”, 99.

“Story checks out,” is her opener, “As much as I hate to admit it, you’re irritating to work with but at least you’re truthful, which can’t be said about the Queen and 156. Despite that, the reality of the situation is that if, hypothetically, I joined you to… change the direction of the hive, we’re still going to get rolled by the Queen supported by 156 and 387. I appreciate your trust, but my rank 99 won’t be enough.”

“Heh, looks like you’re the one underestimating the capabilities of drones,” he nods sideways deeper into the tunnel, “Come on, time to finally meet everyone.”

With 99 in tow, 415 heads deeper into the hive.

“Let’s assume you have a plan. I refuse to believe I’m getting into all this in the early stages. How does that plan account for a combat situation? And what did you mean by the drone thing?”

“Just that drone inventiveness can be a critical equalizer. That you can’t foresee the end result of their unrestricted efforts is your failing, not ours.”

“Did the drones really invent something that can harm us, top ranks, or even the Queen.”

“In their hooves? No. In ours?” 415 shrugs, “Possibly.”

“Interesting,” comments 99, audible curiosity sneaking into her tone. Her extremely brief internal monologue reveals her real feelings, though.

Holes… holes holes holes holes…

99 follows in silence for the rest of the short trip. If the rebels stole some of the drones’, namely 99856’s, accidental creations, they really could cause serious damage. Her unspoken question about what the stolen invention could be gets finally answered when the two enter a cavern and she sees several green barrels standing around. She can sense the love within the container material and a different level of love in what’s inside them, meaning that the barrels are sturdy and filled with some kind of changeling resin as well. If it’s of 99856’s making, the creation can be anything explosive, corrosive, or even some strange, new thing.

There are two barrels right by the entrance, presumably as a nasty surprise for anyone unwanted coming in.

In the dim light of glowing resin crystals dotting the walls of the cavern, 99 counts 8 changelings in total. A pretty weak showing. Only as she looks at them, her hive link receives a mental identification.

415 - warrior, male. 537 - infiltrator, male. 838 - warrior, male. 966 - warrior, female. 1023 - infiltrator, female. 1305 - infiltrator, female.

As her eyes slide over the only non-standard changeling present, distinguishing himself from the others only by slight dark purple tint to their chitin, her hive link, for the lack of a better word, bends and fails to receive any information other than:

??? - nearby.

She has to rely only on her eyes to know the changeling’s location, which makes her, ironically, feel basically blind. Judging from their size and general shape, they’re likely male. That’s all. Even a lack of information can be a hint, however, and 99 assumes this changeling is the one responsible for the mental shielding.

And then, she lays her eyes on the final present changeling.

745 - infiltrator, female.

What?!

745 takes a step forward, smiles, and says in an slow, amused tone:

“Well done, 415,” 99 feels a sudden wave of exhaustion. She gathers her mental faculties to resist the influence but still collapses on the floor under overwhelming mental pressure, “You’re smart, 99, but not a good enough liar.”

Before she passes out completely, 99 hears:

“Restrain her and let’s start setting everything up for the big finale.”