1988, 9999: 5
They’ve been tailing the pegasus security guard for the entire day, and even the latest area check from the dark sky hasn’t shown any lights on the horizon. Wherever he’s travelling to, he’s still way away.
1988, as an infiltrator, has been leading the pursuit. 8622, much less used to sneaking around as a hive guard has kept her distance. Thankfully, the security guard hasn’t been travelling quickly, apparently knowing the trip would be a marathon rather than a sprint. For the two changelings it meant they’ve been able to keep up. In general, the bigger wings of pegasi allow them to fly faster than changelings while the changeling ones allow for better maneuverability.
Buzzing through the air, 1988 locks his eyes on the tiny lit dot ahead which slowly begins its descent into the endless forests underneath.
Okay, so… roughly 16 hours away from the camp and he’s been flying the whole time. If I’m exhausted and I refilled on love before we left, he’s bound to be too. Unfortunately, he can just eat dinner, have a rest, and be alright tomorrow. I’m running on batteries here.
He connects to 8622 and says through their hive link:
“This is probably our best chance to ambush him. I’m going to need energy to mess with his head and to return back to the camp.”
“Understood,” replies 8622 simply, “Plan?”
“Take him out without leaving a mark. I’ll check what the message he’s carrying contains and scramble his short-term memory so that he has on idea what happened. We do it like this...”
Several minutes later, the quiet buzzing of 8622’s wings makes the security guard look up from a small heater he’s set up under a tree and immediately jump towards his backpack.
8622 tackles him to the ground, unwilling to punch him out. Any physical marks of their encounter would only lead to suspicion and make 1988’s mind-manipulation more difficult. The guard under her primes his hind legs and kicks upwards, sending the lighter changeling tumbling backwards.
Just as she gets up and charges at him again, he manages to reach into his backpack and throw something small at her which explodes mid-way into brilliant white flash lighting a good chunk of the forest.
“I knew you weren’t to be trusted!” growls the pegasus as he stops shielding his eyes and pulls out a telescopic blackjack from the backpack. 8622 backs off on three legs, covering her face with the fourth but for all intents and purposes she’s blind. Fortunately, she’s still a warrior and the sound of hoofsteps as well as the swish of the blackjack swinging toward her through the air allow her to sidestep the first blow.
Not the following punch, though, as the guard surprises her by not going for a big weapon swing again, instead simply disorienting her further.
*Swish!*
8622 backs off successfully this time, blinking over and over to repair her vision. Just a few more seconds and she’ll be able to fight ba-
With another step backwards, she trips on an unexpected upwards slope and falls on her backside. She hears the pegasus jump forward and raises both forelegs to block the inevitable blow...
...which doesn’t come. All she hears are strained noises followed by a quiet thud.
“Took your sweet time...” she comments.
“Sorry, this needed a pretty specific type of venom and I’m a lot more exhausted than I thought,” replies 1988, standing over the unconscious pegasus sporting a vampire-like bite mark on his neck, “Take a breather, I’ll check his bag.”
It’s much easier to fix her eyes in peace. Within the next few minutes, 8622 is back on all fours and examining the pegasus.
“I thought we agreed on no physical marks. I could have punched him out even before he set my retinas on fire and saved myself a lot of love,” she says.
“That’s why I said specific type of venom,” 1988 doesn’t even look up from the guard’s backpack, “It’ll heal the bite through the night. Hmmm… nothing in here but tools, weather clothes, and supplies. Does he have anything else on him?”
“You mean this?” she presents a scroll case previously tied to the pegasus inner hind thigh, hidden under windbreaker pants. 1988 takes it, unscrews the lid, and pulls out a selection of papers.
In the light of the pegasus’ lantern hanging on a tree branch above them, 1988 starts flipping through the rolled-up sheets.
“Report - materials, report - injuries, report - schedule, report - daily events. Looks like Sawtooth stayed true to his word and didn’t write anything about us- ah, here we go,” 1988 frowns, “Special security log, different hoofwriting. That must be our pegasus. Date when we appeared, our descriptions, numbers, activities. If anyone who’s even heard about the Canterlot invasion reads this, we’ll have proper guards on our backs instantly,” he crumples the special log sheet, spits on it, and watches it evaporate without a trace, “Now for this rat.”
He puts his horn to the pegasus’ forehead. With the venom already coursing through the pony and seeping into his brain, even a low-rank like 1988 can start messing around.
So… no memory of being suspicious of us enough to write a special report, just Sawtooth’s monthly summaries. No memory of our attack, he just stopped to have a good night’s rest, since he had no reason to rush. He scratched his neck on a tree branch, just in case the bite mark doesn’t heal perfectly.
Twisting the pegasus’ feelings, memories, and intentions takes him nearly half an hour and leaves him dizzy and gasping for breath. As he stumbles away to gather himself, he asks:
“Could you please tidy the place up?”
8622 nods and begins working on putting the campsite into a presentable state. Once 1988 recovers, he adds a few finishing touches she missed, specifically the hoof marks left behind after the tussle.
They remain nearby, resting through the night, just in case the pegasus would show any signs of suspicion. When he eats breakfast in the morning and leaves without anything making 1988 suspicious, they start making their way back.
***
9999 slowly opens its eyes and yawns. Why is it so tired? Why is its head pounding? Didn’t it just have a full night’s sleep, something drones almost never experienced?
It pushes itself into a sitting position, winces at yet another spike of pain, and finds itself sitting in the center of a circle of all the other drones giving it worried looks.
“Uh.. hi?” it tilts its head quizzically, “Is something wrong?”
“You tell us,” replies 13415, “You’ve been groaning and moaning since the shiny first showed up,” it nods towards the still dim sky slowly lighting up.
“I… my head. Something is wrong,” 9999 rubs its temples. On a quick check-up of hive links, it realizes the problem, stumbles onto all fours, and begins limping towards motionless 9013 while muttering, “Holesholesholesholes!”
The confused drones follow 9999, unsure what’s going on and unclear on what to do about it.
“His link is gone!” 13415’s eyes shoot open as the second highest-ranked drone present finally catches on while 9999 is poking the unresponsive warrior, “Wait, but why can we still talk… when…?” its eyes stop on 9999, “High Score, do you have any idea how awesome you are?” it says in amazement.
“I’d trade… less awesome for getting rid of… this splitting headache,” 9999’s strained voice makes two drones rush to its sides and help prop it up. The world is a scary place and drones have to stick together in the face of any threat no matter what.
“Headache? Goop its head!” yells someone, which does wonders for making 9999’s headache worse.
“No holes! There’s nothing to goop!”
Panic spreads.
“Goop inside its head!” comes another suggestion.
“Ha, you’re a genius!” 36658 hops up and down in response.
“I dunno what that means, I’m 33125,” the responsible drone tilts its head.
“I’m gonna need more love… and bark. 57999, I need your stash,” 36658 continues.
“Sure!” the second bark-eater disappears into the nearby tree line and returns carrying a stack of birch bark chunks which 36658 grabs and begins shoveling into its mouth, “But you owe me for this...” 57999 mutters, “At least, umm, three colourful leaves and a useful twig.”
“You -nomnomnom- get a -nomnom- my turn -nom- with the shiny,” 36658 succesfully gulps the first load down as the other drones gasp at the reward for 57999 and, before starting working on another, adds, “And I need love. Can anyone spare?”
“We can’t… be trading… love now,” says 9999 wearily, “We don’t have… enough.”
“You can cocoon me for insubordination when you can at least talk properly again,” 13415 sticks its tongue out at 9999 and checks the love levels of the three Silents before pointing at the one with the most, “You, come here and give most of your love to 36658.”
The Silent walks over and puts its horn to the chewing drone’s forehead. 13415 does the same while saying:
“Just so you don’t think I’m just blowing smoke.”
36658’s eyes flash with energy as it straight up unhinges its jaw and swallows the rest of the bark. Then it burps. Again and again. 13415 and the Silent plop down on the grass, fighting off nausea and exhaustion from the sudden and quick drain.
“HURK!” 36658’s throat bulges before…
“Hrk- pfoo!” it spits out a small, green, vaguely changeling-like figurine made of goo, and gives it to 57999, “Give it to -hurk- High Score -ugh- to eat -blh- and digest.”
Most drones are finally catching on. After all, they’ve been the recipients of birch bark goo last night, albeit only externally. Contrary to popular belief, changelings can shapeshift to digest normal food, they just get absolutely minimal nutritional value out of it due to it requiring the complete restructuring of their energy absorption system. On the other hole, that doesn’t mean they can’t transform a single internal organ to absorb certain chemicals for full effect. After all, they still have a somewhat standard heart and a brain.
Not that the drones know that on any other than instinctive level. Their direct knowledge of biology consists mostly of “stuff pours out when bits break off” or “when some bigger squishy bits fall out, they need to go back quickly”.
“Blrlbllblr!” 36658 throws up another one, which 13415 catches before it hits the ground, “No… to 9013.”
Over the course of the next ten minutes, 36658 produces several more goo lings and stops dry heaving, although its belly is still slightly distended.
Something akin to a drawn-out sigh passes through the hive links of everyone around, and 9013 slowly opens his eyes.
“What…?” he whispers.
“Reporting!” 13415 salutes, “Something went wrong. You fell unconscious and 9999 kinda held the hive mind together for the past hour-or-so. 36658 made some pretty nifty painkillers but it cost us love and frankly an unreasonable amount of zebra bark. Do you need more? We kinda need 9999 to be able to plan stuff and, for it to do that, you gotta be the hive mind guy again.”
9013 attempts to push himself on all fours, fails, and remains lying down.
“Yeah.. yeah… I think I can,” he looks at 9999 slightly dizzy from a dose of painkillers enough to ensure a good evening for a small village, “A drone kept this going, even for an hour?”
“9999 isn’t just any drone, it’s High Score the Shiny-bringer!” 13415 beams, wrapping its foreleg around 9999’s shoulders.
“I’m not even... going to pretend to know... what that’s supposed to... mean,” 9013’s eyes close again as the warrior’s head slowly drops onto the grass.
“Is he-?” 13415 releases 9999, lowers its muzzle, and sniffs 9013.
“He’s alright,” says 9999 with a suddenly much steadier voice, “I can feel him and the headache is going away. I...” it blinks and taps the ground with its hoof, “Hmm, this could help - how about a few of you tap into me for the time being? One or two maybe, preferably someone who stays in the camp, and the rest keep using 9013’s link. That way no one will have to hibernate and it could help ease the strain on 9013.”
“Me!” 36658 raises its foreleg, “I wanna try something new with the ponies today so I won’t be far,” it pats its belly.
“I need to gather more bark but I got 36658’s shiny time today,” 57999 shakes its head.
13415 shakes its head too.
“I may be tired but I’ll help like 57999 and 36658 did yesterday. We need to keep showing ponies we can carry stuff like the best of them.”
“Ooh! Ooh! I’ll go too!” 91887 bounces up and down like a rubber ball on cocaine, “I wanna ride the huge fluffy pony too.”
One by one, the drones go about their search for a way to score points in order to win a turn with “the small shiny”. 9999 ends up with 2 drones connected directly to it in addition to all 3 Silents who thankfully don’t take too much to keep going. Unfortunately, even that leaves it in the same state as 9013 - curled up in the grass in a half-asleep state.
It sucks but right now it’s the best way to be of use, and that’s the only thing that matters.
***
“Hiiii!” 36658 peeks through a sliding curtain into a cargo container turned infirmary, only to be greeted with a frown from a white unicorn mare wearing a white collar with a red cross who asks:
“Can I help you?”
36658 nods towards the only patient on the bed in the back.
“Can I visit mister Uproot?”
“Uproot is supposed to avoid stress-” says the medic.
The pony in question sits up and interrupts her.
“It’s alright, Triage. I’m pretty sure these guys are the least stressful thing around.”
“...speak for yourself, they’re creepy...” she mutters. To 36658, she adds:
“Fine. The patient is alright with it, go ahead.”
36658 approaches the bed and smiles at Uproot.
“Hello!”
“Umm, which one are you?” asks the pony, “I can’t really tell you creatures apart… other than you being a little chubbier than most.”
“I’m 36658. I was helping mister Hacksmith yesterday so that you two wouldn’t fall behind with all the woodcutting.”
“Ah, the bark-chewer. Hack told me about you.”
“That’s me!” 36658 pauses, “Wait, that would fit 57999 too. I’m not 57999, I’m me, 36658.”
“Alright, alright, let’s stop with the math homework,” Uproot raises his foreleg, “Why did you come to see me?”
“Oh, right!” 36658 shakes a goop changeling out of a hole in its foreleg, “I made you this!” it presents the ‘medicine’ to Uproot who takes it with a quizzical expression.
“What is it?”
“It’s a goomy ling! It helps with pain. It’s from zebra bark and goop and it super works. 9013 had a huuuge headache this morning and is totally okay now. Sleepy but okay.”
“So… is that like a chewable painkiller?”
“Aaand here’s where I’m going to step in,” Triage sweeps in and takes the medicine from Uproot, “I can’t have a patient eating unsanctioned, home-brewed painkillers.”
“What if I called it… agonyslayer?” 36658 pouts.
“The name isn’t the problem.”
“I could use something to help me sleep,” says Uproot.
“Forever?!” Triage scowls.
“I wouldn’t hurt mister Uproot!” 36658 frowns back at her. It doesn’t faze her.
“How much do you know about pony anatomy?”
“You ponies are warm and soft. What bit is your anatomy?”
Triage facehoofs.
“My point exactly. Uproot is taking heart medicine. Mixing painkillers-”
“Agony-”
“Shut it. Mixing unknown painkillers with it could cause serious trouble for him. Maybe, and that’s a huge maybe, if I could perform some tests on a sample I’d be able to identify if it could help or at least not make things worse.”
“Oh, is that all?” 36658’s face brightens up, “Here!” it offers another goomy ling to Triage, “I can make more later.”
“Triage, didn’t you say we were running out of painkillers due to our schedule being borked and everypony overworking themselves?” asks Uproot.
“Hmph, there’s a world of difference between some moonshine-level stuff and clinically tested medicine with known side-effects,” objects Triage.
“And can you run a test or two, maybe on a willing pony, hmm?” Uproot winks at her, “I know a few who could use something to relax their muscles before going to bed.”
Triage sighs and takes the goomy ling out of 36658’s still outstretched hoof.
“Alright, I’ll run some tests on these two. You’d have to clear any trading deal with Sawtooth, though. He manages supplies and stuff.”
“Oh, I don’t want anything for it. They’re pretty easy to make,” 36658 shakes its head, “I think 9999 and 1988 just want us to get to know you ponies.”
“Really?” asks Triage suspiciously.
“Mhm,” 36658 only nods.
“Hmmm,” Uproot rubs his chin thoughtfully, “Triage, mind leaving us alone for a minute?”
“Umm, sure?” she stops setting up a microscope and some glass dishes, and leaves with, “Five minutes. I’ll go grab a drink. And if you even think about taking one of these green things behind my back, I’m releasing you back to work immediately.”
“Nice lady,” says 36658, “but I don’t think she likes me very much.”
“She’ll warm up to you guys once she gets to know you. Now, as to why I wanted us to be alone,” Uproot leans closer to 36658, “How many of those green things have you got?”
“A bunch. I didn’t want them to be too strong to knock 9013 completely and I misjudged the amount of bark I needed. Why?”
“I could point you towards a few ponies who might want to try some without Triage knowing.”
“Neat! But won’t they be suspicious like she was?”
“Just tell them I sent you and that the medicine could be, ehm, recreational but we need to test the dosage.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Just tell them that, okay? And if it works, we might trade something from our personal things for more. We have some bits here.”
“Bits of what?”
“Bits - money, gold.”
36658 scratches its head.
“Umm, we don’t really need that but some of the guys would like to own a shiny or something useful. Or-” the drone bounces up and down, “Could we get hugs? Love hugs or friend hugs, doesn’t matter.”
Uproot blinks in surprise and smirks.
“If this works the way I think it might, ponies here will be lining up to friend-hug you.”
“Yaaaay! Lines of hugs!” 36658 cheers, “9999 will be so happy!”
***
“Sooo… you’re not the two bark-eating ones from yesterday then?” asks Hacksmith as he and his two new companions head towards his and Uproot’s logging site, “I swear you guys look all the same.”
As if pondering this for the first time, the two drones exchange curious looks that linger on each other.
“Hmmm...” 13415 shakes its head after a moment, “Nope. See? The scratches and bruises on 91887’s carapace are completely different from mine, the layout of leg holes is too, and its eyes glow a different shade of teal.”
The earth pony keeps looking from one drone to the other before shaking his head in desperation, grabbing a nearby flower and sticking it into 91887’s leg hole.
“There. Now I can tell you apart, at least until it falls out.”
“Oh, if it’s just about outside markings, we can trans-” 91887 starts speaking before its hive link opens.
“1988 SAID NO TRANSFORMATIONS!” 13415 mentally yells at it.
“Oh, right. Sorry...” 91887’s ears droop.
“Yes?” asks Hacksmith, completely unaware of the mental exchange.
“We can tell others to find something unique to mark them,” 13415 finishes the thought, “We can tell each other apart just fine so we’ve never had to think about it. Speaking of which, I’m 13415.”
“I’m Hacksmith. The whole number thing is still crazy to me,” he says, “But since you don’t have cutie marks, I guess it must be tough figuring what you’re good at.”
“We’re drones, we’re good at digging and carrying stuff,” 13415 shrugs, “We don’t really need any more distinctions.”
“Just that? Is that all?”
“We’ve never really needed anything else. Warriors do guarding, inf- change- explorers like 1988 are good at… talking and knowing things, and we do the menial work.”
“Wooow, we have explorers?” 91887’s eyes jaw drops, “You high ranks know all sorts of awesome stuff!”
“Well, I can’t exactly tell a pony we have a designation called ‘an infiltrator’, can I?” 13415 facehoofs mentally.
“Oh, right...” replies 91887, “Sorry, I just got excited. I didn’t think I’d ever be talking to a REAL pony.”
“You guys are pretty strong for your size,” Hacksmith admits, the telepathic exchange obviously missing him again, “But is that all? I mean, 9999 has been the one speaking for you, right? Then there are the two bark guys. Don’t you two have anything special you can do or anything you want to do that others don’t?”
“Iwannarideapony!” 91887 blurts out before 13415 can say anything.
“Is that all?” asks Hacksmith with a smirk, “Hop on.”
“EEEEE!” 91887 buzzes up on him and starts kneading his back like a cat, “So soft and fluffy!”
“9999 said exactly the same thing, you know?”
“And it was absolutely right! That’s why it’s 9999 and not… not… umm… 10101010!” 91887 nods vigorously, “13415, wanna ride too? We can both fit here no problem.”
“I’ll pass,” 13415 shakes its head, “You have fun.”
“Yaaay!”
“No jumping! That still hurts,” winces the earth pony when faced with the sudden flurry of movement on his back.
“Okay!”
The movements stop as 91887 simply lies down and starts rubbing its face against the pony’s coat.
“Heh, some wishes are easier to fulfill than others,” comments Hacksmith.
“Agreed,” 13415 nods.
“You sound like you have a difficult one on your mind.”
“I… I want to reach the high score, obviously, but… but 9999 is doing such a great job that I don’t think I can do that. Plus, it knows a trick only warriors know. To beat that, I’d have to know something even better like… a… a QUEEN-tier trick!”
“Like being mean and shouting orders?” asks 91887, proving once again that being abandoned by Chrysalis was the biggest stroke of luck it’s ever gotten.
“A good queen-tier trick,” 13415 corrects itself.
“A queen, huh,” Hacksmith raises an eyebrow, “Learning that is bound to take some time. Still, I’m from the Stalliongrad area and in politics, when somepony can’t win by simply being good, they try to smear the competition, or make it disappear. Not that I’d advocate doing anything of that sort, I like that little guy.”
“BOOO!” he hears from his back before-
*Chomp!*
-a rather harmless bite lands on the back of his neck.
“Yeah, that’s mean and also cheating!” 13415 gives him the nastiest look Hacksmith has seen from one of these bug ponies so far, “Only warriors and in- explorers do that to climb! The world is scary enough for us drones so we have to stick together.”
“Yeah!” mumbles 91887 through its teeth still clasped on Hacksmith’s neck. Then it suddenly releases the grip and straightens up, “Hmph, I don’t know if I want to ride a mean, cheating pony like this anymore...”
That, for reasons beyond the understanding of mere mortals, makes Hacksmith’s heart skip a beat.
“No no no no,” he says quickly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean you should do that. I even said I liked 9999,” being trained by years of fatherhood, he quickly figures out an offer, “Hey, do you know what a rodeo is?”
“No,” both changelings shake their heads.
“Okay, okay. Grab my neck and try not to fall.”
“Why would I f- eep?!” 91887 bounces as Hacksmith hops a little which makes the drone bounce and clamp its forelegs around his neck.
“Told you,” Hacksmith smirks, “That was a practice round. Want to have a go for real?”
“You’re on!” calls out 91887 in excitement and bites down on the earth pony’s mane.
13415 watches Hacksmith flail and bounce as 91447 holds on for dear life. It’s clear the pony isn’t really trying to drop the drone, but after a short while of walking along, 13415 has to timidly ask:
“Ummm, can I have a turn too?”
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I'm happy with chilling drones. It helps keep the story on its comedy roots, by giving breaks between the world building.
Hard to get tired of changelings being cute.
I keep thinking 13415 is Pinkie
Cos theyre a Random Pi.
Well, at least the first two digits are swapped.. Forgot if that was posted much earlier
Wonder if the logging changelings are going to end up as the Termites, or Wasps? Making a Wood Hive?
10829787
10829941
Glad to hear that. I always feel like I'm just flopping around, pushing nothing forward.
10829798
That's the joke.
10829828
Damn it, I wish I was better with descriptions, but the idea was that it's Daybreaker, or a really furious Celestia. The big question is why 387 would see this image.
10829917
Good. I need to get back to the dreamscape sequence soon.
10829920
Chrysalis' memories are supposed to be a bit confusing due to the sheer volume of knowledge she retains from the hive mind, but this particular reference is to the story "Hard to find the right words". More a flavor text rather than anything relevant.
10829937
Blueblood's zebra stripper bodyguard commandos to the rescue!
10829946
Nah. 13415 is still a mystery. Noz a Ponk mystery, since 13415 is serious and dutiful, but your thinking is correct.
Also, no wasps. Those guys are assholes.
Yes, just writing drones chilling like this is perfectly okay. It's part of what got me started reading this fic to begin with.
10831310
Uh, no?
10831296
Okay, so - all my stories happen in the same world and several of them are situated around the time of the changeling invasion. This one references "Imbalanced" (65536's plotline) and "Hard to find the right words" (156,387,9999,1988's plotline). Neither is even remotely necessary to know in order to understand this story, the references are mostly only for flavor text.
"Hard to find the right words" happens right before the part with the logging camp changelings.
In short: Chrysalis gathered some survivors in a small town called Riverside, got discovered due ot the actions of rank 16, had to escape with some cocooned ponies. The end.
10831740
Does she get some stress relief by the end of this at least?
Or they can just have 1313 replace Blueballs permenantly, it's not like he'll be missed
10829946
They invented aspirin. That could mean business.
10833479
But, to be able to sell asprin, they need a beyer?
10833822
Is one of the shinies a bell?
Bayer in German could refer to the occupatioon one who rang (church) bell
10834649
I thought Id seen the term, Clarrion of the Hounds somewhere. Given thats a collection of bells ringing, would be intresting if this is where thee term, Baying of Hounds comes from?
I'm really getting the feeling that the Ponies are going to find themselves defending the Lings after forming personal connections with them
10834829
Or maybe it'll be them all against the horrors of... The Forest!
Or neither, really.
I'll just say it now, everytime I see the name of this story, I read it like that one flight tower guy in MW2 before I think the Wolverines! mission.
10836788
I hate to disappoint you, but I'm abysmal at shooters so I've never played it.
10836818
Well, I'll tell you the premise in two sentences.
"I'm lookin' at fighter jets over I-95! How the hell did they get through?!"
I got a feeling the Highscore is how long a changeling lives.