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?