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…
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.