Two days have passed since the discovery of the exchange offer, during which Twilight meticulously wrote down potential visitation dates, several versions of the deal based on if her yet unknown bodyguard would be allowed to come with or not, and Princess Cadance’s offers regarding places where the visiting changelings would stay and with what company. Writing down the offers and figuring out the possibilities itself didn’t take that long. What Twilight was really waiting for was seeing the official print of the new edition of Smiley’s Scribbles on the counter of Whispershade’s cafe. A quick purchase later, she finally had something to approach the changeling embassy with instead of “I heard about this Royal exchange program from a small, striped, mute changeling and- no, don’t call the security I’m not on drugs!”.

Finally, Twilight finds herself in front of a three-story office building on 124 Sunrise Avenue. Like most buildings in Upper Canterlot, it’s made from magically-lightened marble and covered in delicate gold foil wherever possible - railings, writing above the revolving front door. Hay, the entire front facade of the house is decorated to show the status of the place. Despite never being inside before, Twilight knows buildings like these. The upper city is full of them. Large Equestrian cities are more city-states and they often have some variant of an official place of business akin to an embassy. However, since space is the most limiting commodity in Upper Canterlot, and no city official with a sufficiently overblown ego would be caught conducting business from the lower city, only the biggest diplomatic players have their own building up here. While changelings with their recent rise would certainly fall under such a category, they either must have missed the memo or they are of Twilight’s level of practicality.

The alicorn makes her way up a short set of stairs connecting the sidewalk to the central revolving door and stops to examine the plaques of the occupying organizations.

Oof, the Municipality of Stalliongrad. I can’t imagine those guys being happy within the same city as changelings, much less in the same building.

As her eyes slide down, the final plaque is the presumed symbol of the Changeling Hive. It is made from standard brass embossed with black curves twisting around each other and forming a crown. At first, Twilight scoffs at the presumed symbol of Queen Chrysalis’ ego, but a small inconsistency catches her eye and she looks closer. There are tiny markings and highlights all over the crown, and upon a detailed examination Twilight gasps.

It’s not just a crown. The tiny highlights are parts of changeling silhouettes! The twisted lines all form a map similar to a mine. The tip of the crown, likely the throne room, is the top. The upper, filled layer are the living quarters or the main levels of the mine or the hive, and the bottom with the scarce lines and some trailing off are the small shafts that haven’t been reinforced yet.

I’m impressed!

Twilight tears herself off of the official logo and enters the lobby. There’s a booth with a front desk directly ahead, hallways leading to the left and the right, and a staircase next to the booth. Her hoofsteps echo on the stone floor and startle a unicorn receptionist sitting inside who immediately jumps up and bows when his brain realizes who just entered.

“Y-Your Highness! What brings- how can I help you?”

Not calling me ‘Your Highness’ would be a good start.

“I would like to visit the changeling embassy, please. Can you tell me where it is?” asks Twilight politely.

“Office 0-3, Your Highness,” the unicorn nods frantically, “Finally, someone is coming to show the bugs the boot.”

“Are they causing any trouble?” Twilight forcefully retains her expression of polite curiosity as she approaches.

“Well, uhm, no, not as such,” the receptionist lowers his voice and leans in, “But I mean, after what they did they should have no place in civilized society. Or anypony consorting with them, for that matter.”

“Do you mean ‘doing official business with them’?” Twilight raises an eyebrow.

“No, there’s a Royal Guard coming here regularly ‘for visits’,” the unicorn’s hoof air quotes are beyond sarcastic, “I’m pretty sure he’s selling state secrets to the bugs in return for… you know… indecent favors.”

“Do you know the name of the guard?” Twilight still tries to resolve this amicably instead of telling the unicorn off, now more as de-escalation practice than anything else.

“Spear-something, Your Highness.”

“You have no idea how little that narrows it down, have you?” Twilight sighs, “Look, unless you have some proof they’re doing something illegal or disturbing the peace around here then my hooves are tied. The attack on Canterlot was terrible, but still I believe that everypony deserves a second chance.”

“You can’t know how bad it was, you live in Ponyville,” the receptionist shakes his head and Twilight’s polite expression finally gives way to open irritation.

“Shining Armor is my brother, I was at the wedding, I got teleported by Queen Chrysalis into the depths of Canterlot mountain where I had to save Princess Cadance, me and my friends got swarmed by changelings when we tried to gather the Elements of Harmony, and I spent the next week washing changeling vomit -I hope to this day- out of my mane,” she states in a matter of fact tone of someone stating a list of facts before giving the unicorn her fakest smile, “Now, would you be so kind as to point me towards office 0-3?”

The unicorn shuts up in defeat, sits back down, and points. Twilight heads down the left corridor without a ‘thank you’, passes some kind of a technical room, a utility closet, and finds what she’s been looking for. Tense, she raises her hoof.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Make a good impression, Twilight. This is the first chance for ANYPONY of any scientific background to observe changelings in their natural habitat.

*Knock knock knock!*

Before the echo of her knocks dies down, she hears two quiet voices from the inside. Thank Celestia for the common use of cheap, paper-thin inside doors even in outwardly presenting ‘fancy’ buildings.

“Did you hear anything?”

“What was that noise? Do I go ask-?”

“Wait! I think it was the door.”

Something bumps into the door with a thud.

“Ow… forgot it opened the other way…”

“Is everything okay?” Twilight knocks again and raises her voice.

“I’m here!” replies the one of the two voices that’s right behind the door.

The door clicks open, revealing two of the small changelings- drones, even slightly smaller than Smiley was. The one opening the door straight up drops on his- her- their flank while looking straight up at Twilight in pure amazement.

“Holes, here pony!” the other one squeaks, standing atop a wardrobe by the right wall, utters some strange mix of clicking and buzzing, before ending with words again, “-have pony!” it steps off of the wardrobe, forgetting to fly and plunging to the ground like a rock.

Unbothered, the second drone stands up again, examining Twilight with amazement etched into its chitinous face yet also with much more self-control.

“You’re right, 99778, we have a pony. Now calm down and try saying it in full again,” it nods at the crashed drone before backing off and addressing Twilight officially, “Sorry to bother you, Miss. 99778 is new here and sometimes forgets how to speak like a pony.”

“No problem,” Twilight can’t help cracking a smile. The drones are clearly out of their depth but even she can see they’re trying their best.

Observation one - they jumble their words when excited, just like Smiley did in writing.

“Ahem,” 99778 picks itself up and tries again as if nothing happened, “Oh my holes, we have a pony!” it exclaims with exactly the same wild gesticulation as before, “99911, we have a pony!” it faces Twilight again and speaks out slowly and deliberately, “Sorry, Miss pony. I thought I said all that out loud but I didn’t. I’m learning.”

“As I said, it’s no problem,” Twilight shakes her head, “Well, maybe one problem-”

“Oh no!” 99778 covers its mouth with both hooves, “Me sorry. Better next time.”

“No no no, It’s not a problem with you. I mean, technically it is-”

“Oh no no, sorry sorry sorry. No send home. Want see more shiny-” 99778’s focus shatters immediately.

“I was just worried you got hurt by the fall!” Twilight raises her voice, interrupting 99778’s apology.

“Oh? Me? No, I’m fine,” the drone waves it off, clearly relieved. It pokes the carpet, “See? The floor is all soft.”

“We are fairly durable, Miss,” explains 99911 and rushes off behind a desk in the center of the room where it hops onto a chair sized for a pony, leaving it standing on its hind legs while propping itself up by the desk using its forelegs, “Now, what can we do for you? I think you might be the first pony that’s here for official business.”

“How do you know I’m here for business?”

“The other kind of ponies usually don’t bother knocking, they just yell,” 99911 sighs, “Some of their chants are pretty catchy, though. Right, 99778?”

“Yeah! Bug horse cum, can’t keep us down!” chants the second drone with a wide smile while pumping its hoof in the air, “Bug horse cum, can’t keep us down! Very positive. Say, Miss, what’s cum? I asked 99 but she said I must have heard wrong.”

“And we haven’t had a mob in -woah, has it been that long?- over a month,” 99911 rubs its chin, “So we couldn’t ask since then.”

Twilight takes a deep breath. As interested as she is in anything changeling related, including anti-changeling protesters, there are priorities here. After she gets the exchange deal, any topic is a free game.

“I believe, or at least sincerely hope, that you heard ‘scum’ which means filth, or dirt in certain lingos,” she says, hoping to quickly close the topic.

“Hmmm…” 99778 sniffs the air, “Should we shower again? 99 smacked me last time when I used up all the bubbly stuff. Speaking of which, can we go trading later, 99911?”

“Before you get distracted again, please, tell me who can process my official request around here?” Twilight interjects, refusing to let the conversation get off track again, even if she has to build the track herself rail by rail and sleeper after sleeper.

“Right!” 99911 nods, beams at her, and starts over, “What can we do for you, Miss?”

Twilight takes a deep breath, walks over to the desk, and puts the new issue of Smiley’s Scribbles on it, the last article facing 99911.

“I’m answering the cultural exchange offer,” Twilight’s horn lights up, conjuring a purple floating arrow that points to the article’s header, immediately prompting 99911 to poke it, “I’ve arranged the terms of the deal regarding the Crystal Empire and I’d like to be the one to visit the changeling hive, accompanied by a body- research assistant,” Twilight corrects herself. It doesn’t pay to start off by making the other side think she’s suspicious of them already.

“GASP!” 99911 pumps up and down, still standing on its hind legs, “That was so quick!”

“Did you just say ‘gasp’-?” mutters Twilight. 99911 ignores her and points at 99778 who points back just for fun.

“Bring the form CH-T-4, buddy.”

Twilight watches 99778 rush to a commode in the back of the room atop which there sits a one-level sectioned box with five openings, out of which only four are filled with sheets of paper.

“You don’t have many forms,” she nods to 99778 pulling out the right form with the terrified care of an intern on their first day.

“We’re just starting off. I imagine we’ll eventually have scribbles for all sorts of things,” says 99911 with pride, “We have one for changelings who don’t don’t live in the hive anymore but would like the Queen to know about them, one for general requests for those changelings who want to be a part of the hive even without living there, one for random stuff -that one has only a big fill-in box -you can even draw a picture into it- and the new exchange one.”

Twilight nods approvingly.

So, these drones are definitely not foals despite displaying similar characteristics. Let’s think of them as their own category. The main thing I can see is that nothing that’s happening here is their nature, and everything is only a metaphorical coat they’re wearing. The plant on the filing cabinet in the back is a) overwatered and b) plastic while the one on the left window is dry.

The comparison makes Twilight reconsider.

No, I’m wrong. They’re experimenting. Somepony who knew what it meant must have told them that they have to water the plants but didn’t explain further because they thought it was obvious. They know what to do, but they don’t know what it means nor do they have the context of why they’re doing it. Normally, that would fulfill the idea of a bee hive or an ant colony and the ‘drone’ classification, but these guys seem to be trying to figure things out on their own.

I wonder if their hive is like this.

99778 reverently puts the paper down on the desk where 99911 reads it, nods to itself, picks up a pen and sticks it into a slit in its right hoof seemingly grown specifically for it.

Twilight mentally categorizes this observation for later, her mind full of research notes to write down and questions to ask.

So they write with their fore-limbs like griffons or minotaurs. I did see other changelings write with their mouths too, though.

“Oookay, let’s do this,” 99911 hypes itself up, “Name, please?”

“Twilight Sparkle.”

“Oooh, like the bottle we got in the square room!” 99778, now sitting on the carpet despite there being several chairs and even an armchair by the wall, gives her a knowing nod.

“Square room, what?” Twilight raises an eyebrow.

“There’s a room in the back that’s full of white squares all over! There’s a tiny stream you can make flow whenever you want and a rain tube in there, too!”

99778 runs out through one of the two doors in the back before Twilight can say anything.

They did say shower earlier, but now it’s a rain tube. Maybe they know the activity is ‘to shower’ but no one told them that the rain machine is ‘the shower’?

“Umm, Miss Toilet-?” 99911 speaks out.

“Twilight, not toilet!” snaps the alicorn back sharply. It’s not the first time she’s been called that, and it’s a touchy subject.

99778, returning from the bathroom, drops a bottle of the same shade of color as the alicorn’s coat that was in its mouth and immediately tries to hide behind it, forelegs clamped over its head. 99911 is arched like a cat, ears splayed back.

“We sorry,” 99778 peeps in a hesitant tone of someone who thinks they did something bad but isn’t sure what.

“Yes, we are sorry for… whatever we did wrong,” 99911 says slowly, clearly thinking each word through, “If you tell us what it was we’ll try to not do it again.”

Twilight takes a deep breath and telekinetically levitates the purple bottle dropped by 99778 to herself.

“Toilet Sparkle. Who’s making that?” she turns it around and huffs, “Of course, FlimFlam industries. Industries, my plot. Useless scam artists…”

The drones don’t dare move even after she stops grumbling to herself, and Twilight realizes the next move is on her.

“I understand the words may sound similar, but calling a pony toilet, not twi-light is an insult,” she explains diplomatically. Even though she’s no expert on body language, her recent years as the Princess of Friendship forced enough experience on her that she’s almost certain the drones didn’t mean it as an insult and they’re not laughing internally right now.

“Oh!” 99778 rises up.

“I see. I’m sorry, Miss Twi-light,” 99911 rubs its head with an apologetic smile, “99778? I think I need a new form.”

“Can I keep that one to draw on?”

“Sure,” 99911 just tosses the form with ‘Toilet Sparkle’ name on the floor where 99778 picks it up once it delivers the new one and scuttles to put it away.

They sure do bounce back quickly. And like with the shower, I think they know the word toilet but not the context of its usage. That one makes sense for changelings.

“If you need any help with the words, don’t be afraid to ask,” offers Twilight to raise the drones’ mood even further, “I can see you don’t have that many CH-T-4 forms left.”

“Don’t worry, Miss Twi-light,” says 99778, putting its acquired form for drawing on a second desk in the back, “We still have the one you’re working with and another three left. Once there are only two, I gotta go visit a place where they can make more.”

“Why when there are two left and not only one?” asks Twilight while 99911 scribbles something on a sticky note next to the form and shows it to her, “It’s t-w-i, not t-u-a-i, you got the light right,” she whispers and the drone writes the name on the real form.

“99 said to go when there are two left because if I muck up on the way there’ll be one left for her to do it herself,” explains 99778, “And 99 is a high rank, so she won’t mess up.”

“Miss Twilight?” 99911 studies the form further, “What kind of a pony are you? We have a box here for an earth pony, a pegasus, and a unicorn, buuut… you’ve got all the extra bits,” it points to her head and to her wings respectively.

“I’m an alicorn, a unicorn originally. We have horns, wings, and we can be as strong as earth ponies or more, I just.. I haven’t been going to the gym as much as I should.”

“Hmmm,” 99911 rubs its chin, “I’ll cross all of them. 156 or Her Majesty will understand.”

“Say, Miss Twilight,” 99778 raises its foreleg as if it was in school, “You, ponies, have names that are made from words that mean stuff, right? What does your name mean? The not-Sparkle part, I think I know what that is.”

“Twilight means sunset, the time between day and night when the sun goes down.”

“OOOOH!” 99778 smacks its head, “That’s when The Great Shiny drops down underground to watch over us while we dig.”

That gives Twilight a pause.

What a peculiar belief. It’s, of course, wrong but I’m not about to start lecturing them on religion now that we’re finally getting somewhere.

“Miss Twilight, I’m done with our part, you gotta fill the rest,” 99911 pushes the form over to her along with the pen, “Do you want a chair? We got extras.”

“No need,” Twilight shakes her head, “I don’t think it’ll take long.”

She reads the full thing and rolls her eyes.

Twilight Sparkle and one body research assistant…

99911 doesn’t interpret her expression in any way, it just waits patiently while Twilight conjures up her own stack of notes with potential dates, Crystal Empire addresses, emergency contacts, and everything the clearly well thought-through form asks for. When she’s finally done, Twilight returns it to 99911 along with two more sheets of paper covered in more writing.

“These are my addendums - potential unresolved points and details that need clearing up before the exchange happens.”

“That’s fair,” 99911 nods with a shrug, “I know how it is to think of the same thing twice during different worky times and come up with completely different questions. 156 is super smart, she’ll figure things out. Now for the best part-”

99778 is already coming with a tripod camera of its own size and, so far, the biggest smile Twilight has seen a drone make.

“-the photograph.”

Twilight poses, but the drone walks around her and positions the tripod next to her flank, aimed at her cutie mark.

I guess that makes more sense than a mugshot. Cutie marks can’t be easily changed with magic, and a paint job would have to be beyond top-notch to survive this close of scrutiny.

“I get to use the picture box!” states 99778 proudly, “Now stand veeery still for a moment, please.”

This time, there’s no mishap or a distraction. Everything goes smoothly and 99911 puts the form as well as all the other attachments into an envelope which it gives to 99778 who salutes.

“I’ll be heading off right now,” it says chipperly, opens the commode in the back and starts putting on a backpack, “You’ll get your answer in one to eight weeks.”

“That’s quite the range,” comments Twilight.

“Oh, it takes four to five days to get to the hive and back if I go by train but, you know, if something eats me then it’ll take a week for 99911 to notice I’m not back, then 99 will have to go instead and that’s another week,” explains 99778 in a casual, entirely unbothered tone, “and if something happens to her then we have bigger problems than a missing letter.”

Something tells Twilight that that isn’t a joke, that the drone is entirely accounting for itself getting hurt or possibly killed on the way, and leaves her only able to say-

“Well, good luck. I hope nothing eats you.”

-like a bumbling buffoon.

“So do I,” 99778 replies with complete sincerity, “Miss Twilight, would you mind if I took Smiley’s new Scribbles to the hive? The guys are always excited to hear 10k read about new things. I can trade you some shinies for it.”

Twilight waves it off.

“That’s okay, keep it. I’ve already read it and the most important thing for me was the exchange offer.”

“Thank you, Miss Sparkle,” 99778 trots by and packs the pamphlet into its bag. Moments later, it trots out of the office with a cheerful: “Bye! I hope nothing eats you too!”

Alone, 99911 and Twilight look at each other. There are so many questions Twilight wants to ask, yet now that she has the chance she suddenly has no idea where to begin.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” asks 99911 helpfully, “I don’t think any of the other forms are for you unless you have some kind of a general question.”

“Yes! That’s exactly it!” Twilight nods, “General question, and we won’t even need the form.”

“Oookay?” 99911 hops down from the chair and sits down on the carpet. Now that official business is over, probably, there’s no need to use the official chair.

“Tell me, are you male or female?”

“I think 99778 just left with your mail?” 99911 hazards its best guess.

“I mean, are you a mare or a stallion?”

“Imma changeling!”

“No, no no no-” Twilight rephrases: “Ponies can be stallions or mares, got it?”

“Oh, I see!” 99911 nods and enunciates more clearly, “Then I’m a drone.”

“Hmm, still not there…” Twilight looks around and very briefly calculates the odds of there being somepony else listening and not involving themselves up until now. The results look worth the risk, “Say, the way you’re sitting, can you spread your hind legs and-”

*SLAM!*

“Holy Drone protective services, Batmare!” a grey, loud, and muscular pegasus mare with yellow eyes stomps through the door in the back that’s not the bathroom, “And here I was thinking that Molestia was just Sunplot’s dancer name and not instructions that come free with each order of royal horn and wings.”

“I- wha-” Twilight’s so broken by the sudden entrance of the whirlwind of personalitythat she can only blush.

“Hello! Did you have a good nap, Miss Bubbly?” 99911 waves at her.

“Not really,” the pegasus shakes her head, “Without regular protesters to let off some steam, I’m starting to think I’ll have to bring some gym equipment over here. Thankfully, Epstallion’s student here arrived just in time to be my workout partner.”

“Who are you?” Twilight just croaks quietly, still stunned at being caught.

“Bubbling Anger. I’m the… body research assistant around these parts,” the pegasus grins at her.

That’s too much. Twilight realizes that while the mare wasn’t here in person, she’s at least heard everything before stepping in at the perfectly worst moment.

“I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to- I’ll-”

“Be back in a week to check up on the state of your request and not at any point before that out of sheer curiosity about drone jeans and tails, ya?” Bubbling Anger finishes Twilight’s sentence while staring meaningfully at her.

The alicorn gulps, nods in complete silence, and simply vanishes in a burst of light.

“Nice lady,” comments 99911, “Very, uhh, purple. And smart.”

Bubbling Anger pats the drone’s head.

“How smart can she really be if she wants to go to the hive?”

99911 sighs.

“We’re all trying, you know? You could go with Miss Twilight to see for yourself.”

“Hah, no! I’m happy where I am, and you little guys are just the right amount of hive I can still stomach. Some other poor sucker can accompany Miss Purplesmart on her way to the Badlands,” says Bubbling Anger before turning on the radio which the drones shut off when Twilight knocked earlier, and sitting down into an armchair right next to it, “Come on, the radio play will be starting in a few minutes.”

“Yaay!” 99911 hops into the pegasus’ lap and curls up into a ball, “I hope the guys back home will be listening too.”

Author's Note

Heh, only while rereading this now I noticed how much BA's introduction reads as if she was some kind of ultra-Derpy. She's not, of course. (and early update becasue reasons, next one will really take forever)