//------------------------------// // Oops!: 5 // Story: They're home. // by Nameless Narrator //------------------------------// “Omigosh you came again, you came again!” 99856 squees happily as 99000 opens the door to its laboratory and almost drops what looks like a small, deflated ball of green sludge, “Whoah, not here. Deeefinitely don’t drop this here,” with a brief expression of horror, it catches what 99000 can only presume is yet another semi-accidental doomsday device.  Something’s off about its smile, but I can’t place it. As the chemist puts the ‘product’ onto a workbench, 99000 can’t help asking: “Why were you so happy to see me?” “No one ever comes here more than once!” 99856 rushes over and hugs wincing 99000, “There’s no digging involved, no carrying unless you’re bringing stuff I can excrement with- experiment with, and most of the stuff I do is kinda complicated but also super boring. Do you know how many hoofsies of br- iron dust I gotta separate from the bigger chunks to make one of those?” it lets go, points to whatever the ‘do not drop!’ thing it almost dropped is, and counts for a brief moment before announcing with a smile, “Three hoofsies and five parts!” it presents the bottom of its empty hoof into which lines seem to have been scratched, splitting the concave of the hoof into equal sections, “That takes a chunk of worky time, and it’s much worse when you need to mix different dusts.” 99000 examines the hoof. “I saw a stone bowl around here last time. Why don’t you make one or more like that, split them like you did with the hoof, and have both hooves free for work?” 99856’s jaw drops. “YOU’RETHEBEST!” it yells into 99000’s face and squeezes the other drone again, even tighter. “Of course I am,” groans 99000 under the pressure, “What’s that new thing you’ve probably almost killed us both with when I entered?” 99856 lets go and darts back to the bench containing a green, flappy blob with excitement. “It’s a squirty! I can show ya later if you want, but right now I’m testing the new black-crunchy stuff in the other room, now that I’ve figured out how to stop it from going boom immediately,” it blows air through a small hole into the goop pile until it inflates into a dome, upon which it closes the hole with one last spit of goop, “Oookay, now we let it sit for a bit and it’ll be ready.” “How does it work?” “Heee,” 99856 beams, “Remember the angry fizzies you saw last time? While I was cleaning up after you left, I had an idea - if the door could hold those in without any trouble, could I use softer goop with iron dust to make a cleaning ball? Like, use a chunk of 99111’s bubble brick, encase it in normal goop, cover that in a layer of mix 442, and finally contain all that in iron dust goop. The normal goop melts, the bubbly and 442 mix into fizzes, but doesn’t get out because of the outer shell. Then, you know, just throw it into a room with enough strength for the shell to break, and the fizzies would clean up anything that’s not rock or goop and iron mix.” That’s an acid grenade and, judging by last time, throwing an amount that’s inside the thing on that workbench into a house would purge it of all life. Plus, a brief exposure made your sinuses bleed. For hive’s sake, I should have used drones while I was trying to take over Equestria. Or maybe not, I needed the ponies alive.  “But THEN I thought,” 99856 continues chipperly, beyond happy that it has someone to talk to about its work, “The fizzies are kinda dangerous if you’re not careful-” Hive mind, we have a genius here. “-so what if we could do two things at once? We could even try to toss it into a cavern full of gribblers, but then I thought - who has time to aim when there are stompy crunchers on your tail, right? They are strong and big, but not really smart. So, if you knew they were around, you could just prepare the cleaning balls in a tunnel ahead of time, lure the stompy crunchers, and run. And FINALLY I thought - balls aren’t good for running over, what if I made a flatter shape so that it’s easier to stomp on? Tadaa!” it victoriously points at the green dome slowly filling up, “On top of that, where they squirt from is based on where something breaks the outer shell. I tried it in the other room with rocks.” If ANYTHING goes wrong with that, the drone won’t even make it to the door before being… cleaned up. “Mines. You’re making pressurized, directional, corrosive mines,” 99000 breathes out.  “They’re only mine right now. I’m gonna give them to the guys when they find a cave with big gribblers, and then they’ll be everyone’s!”  99000 looks at 99856 with utter incredulity, and something finally clicks inside its head in regard to 99856’s muzzle - the chitin is porous like its hooves.  “For my own sanity, I need to recap this, and I’ll say it very slowly,” says the fake drone, “You blow air… with your mouth… into a soft shell full of extremely corrosive acid… while it’s in a state where it can burst if you blow just a bit too hard… and spray your face point blank.” 99856’s smile fades a little. “Ehhh… when you say it like that… I gots my goggles?” it pauses, “Which I’m using only for tests, not for making these. Umm, that’s not good, is it?” “Your lips are melting,” 99000 facehoofs, “Make a tube and blow the air through it, you suicidally oblivious, walking and currently melting war crime!”  Chrysalis immediately wipes the insult from 99856’s mind but leaves the rest in. “Huh,” the chemist carefully rubs its muzzle, “Oh goop. Uhhh, thanks for the tube idea. I’ll ask 99111 if it knows how to make a hollow goop stick. Do you want a cleaning squirty for the advice?” “Holes in a leg, no!” 99000’s eye twitches, “How about you give the whole ‘cleaning’ idea a rest until you figure out how to craft things without melting yourself either slowly or at once?” 99856 nods. “I think that’s a great idea. I think I should focus on black-crunchy-” “Coal,” 99000 corrects it. “-on coal instead. Seriously, you’re really good with pony words!” “Good,” 99000 nods, “It would be a shame if something bad happened to you.” I think I’m done with this drone. It might be beyond dangerous but there really isn’t any intent to harm anyone in it. Well, maybe to harm some tunnel monsters. If they figure out a way to hunt the damn rock worms for sport I’ll be sure to join in. Final assignment for 99 regarding 99856 - observe and potentially guide. If we ever need to make it disappear, it will be easy to cause an accident that even 387 won’t suspect as foul play.  “Awww, thanks for worrying,” 99856 smiles again. With a simple nod, Chrysalis makes any curiosity regarding 99000 vanish from 99856’s head and just leaves. There are two more avenues of drone development she needs to check, and both are bound to be more difficult to observe unnoticed than the lonely chemist. However, examining the tinkerer will be significantly easier to get away with right now. “I’ll go talk to 99111 about that tube for you,” she says and leaves. 99380 has to be the last one to approach. The anomalous mental ability it presented last time when it just ignored her cover could make assessing it difficult, so it’s critical she finds the drone on its own, and right now it’s doing something several levels lower with that peculiar trio of drones who are always quickly done with the relocation of reserve broods between hatcheries and storage caverns.  99000 sighs. Hopefully, 99111 is trying to make ONLY the flamethrower. *** 99000 stands by the door of 99111’s workshop, watching the tinkerer drone absorbed in its work with a mix of pride and shock. The workshop itself is extremely similar to 99856’s laboratory up to the number of workbenches, differing only in their placement and contents. From what Chrysalis can see, the stone tablets on the shelves in the back are thinner, stating that 99111 wasn’t satisfied with what has to be a standard drone template and patiently customized them afterwards. The subject is similar, though, from one of the tablets spread out over a bench nearby - lists of changeling resin’s chemical reactions with various other materials. In place of 99856’s material and resin samples there are what look like molds for shapes which don’t immediately hint at what they’re for, instead they all contain hive mind reference symbols. With one workbench occupied by the currently required slates and molds, one by working 99111, it leaves the final one entirely covered by mechanical parts, with its edges secured by a resin border so that nothing can accidentally fall off and roll somewhere. The parts are all linked to one hive mind reference, but Chrysalis hazards a guess first based on a brass loudspeaker, the only part not on the bench but under it.  A disassembled gramophone. Following the hive mind reference marks visible on the ethereal mental overlay of the real world leads to a catalogued 3d model of the gramophone inside the drone section of the hive mind. While she’s not allowed to edit the model, at least not without force, she can view it and read that it was created, piece by piece, by 99111 itself. Withdrawing, she checks the markings related to what 99111 is working on right now and receives the information that it’s a simple spring. However, said information is immediately followed by more references linking back to the gramophone, specifically to the disassembled handle and the manual wind-up mechanism. If there’s anything to take from this first impression, or at least from an impression two years after seeing the drone personally last time, it’s that 99111 is organized and efficient on a completely different level than any other drone she’s met so far with the exception of 10k. None of this is what shocked Chrysalis when she entered the workshop disguised as 99000 and spared a second to analyze the surroundings, though. Impressed, yes, but not shocked. No, that honor belongs to 99111 itself. As the drone works, it’s busy mixing resin with some other substance and filling a mold with the result. It proves unsatisfactory, and 99111’s foreleg hoof unfurls into a set of claws without any transformation, and one of the claws digs a precise shape into the stone mold like a scalpel. That’s an adaptation used by warriors when they don’t want to waste love on shapeshifting or when they can’t transform in fear of triggering a detection mechanism, currently being wielded by a DRONE. And it can channel their bullshit cheating digging power through it. Even that, however, Chrysalis could stomach. After all, 10k has been optimizing carapace designs as both work and a hobby now that it can’t physically do drone work, and the composite claw-hooves isn’t a particularly complex one.  All that, however, is happening under a flashlight made of glowing resin, glowgoop in dronish, encased in an opaque resin tube, and… …moved around by a fifth, clawed limb sprouting from 99111’s back according to what angle the drone needs to see from. Chrysalis could have expected some primitive chitinous hook for such a task or a cleverly placed protrusion, not a fully functional limb. From the drone’s low love expenditure, it also looks like its body is used to having it and that it’s not a temporary, love-burning transformation. To be completely accurate, none of what she’s seeing would even remotely impress her if presented by an infiltrator, even one of a low rank. A drone, however? “Great. Extra legs to throw all the extra acid grenades they have now,” 99000 mutters under its breath, which finally makes 99111 notice its visitor. “Hello,” says 99111 in a friendly, warm tone, “Do you need anything, 99000?” “I’m just looking around,” replies 99000, “And 99856 told me to ask if you could make it a tube of about these dimensions,” it transmits an image through 99111’s hive link. “Hmm,” 99111 ponders it before shrugging, “Sure. I’m going to need more iron ore dust anyway because this just isn’t working,” it shoots a sideways glance to its workbench. “What are you doing anyway?” asks 99000. “I’m trying to fix the broken music box. I’m pretty sure I know what’s wrong with it, I’m just not mixing the right material to create the spring,” 99111 picks up the mold, digs a greenish-brown spiral out of it, presses it from both sides with its forelegs, frowns, and puts it into the corner, “Still too soft, I think. There must be more to getting the right properties of an alloy than just the amounts of mixed materials.” “What do you need a spring for anyway?” “We have no way of recharging the energy crystals that power the music box. Those three purple, angular shinies,” its back arm points to the bench with all the parts, “When those are out of power, it’s possible to make the music box work for a while using a spring mechanism. We used it only for a couple breaky times before it broke, though, and I’ve been trying to fix it since then. I’ve got a couple ideas on how to use springs in other ways too.”  “Is one of those applications a bomb launcher?” 99000 rolls its eyes. “Hmmm,” 99111 rubs its chin, “That could work, I think. If we put a boomy into a big tube with a spring in it. It would need a way to wind the spring up-” it shakes its head, “Feels pointless to me. Unless we figure out how to customize springs, just throwing a melty seems better. No, we need to be able to fix the pony technology we have first. If we manage to do that, it’ll be the first step to eventually fixing the smart box. That’s still ages away, though, I can’t even disassemble it.” 99000 sighs. “I understand. 99856 is the weapons guy.” It sucks that we haven't managed to copy the entire contents of the Silversmith device before it stopped working. Something must have gone wrong, because the robot said we had at least one more year. I would assume it lied to us, but other than this it stuck to its every word. The good part is that, judging by the amount of records there were supposed to be inside the device, we got about three quarters of them. It’ll still take years, maybe decades, for the drones to write everything down, but the important thing is that all we managed to read is inside the hive mind and being slowly moved onto the tunnel walls to avoid unnecessary love drain. “I’m just trying to figure out how things work and how we can use them to improve life down here, and I’m pretty sure 99856 is doing the same,” 99111 shrugs, “If you want weapons, though, we’ll need small springs for triggers if we want one that’ll be useful more than once. That’s what keeps breaking whenever the rescue team uses the acid spitter.” “What about the pony flamethrower?” asks 99000, not letting 99111 wonder how a newbie would know about it. “I’m wondering if it’s not a dead end idea,” admits 99111 with a sigh, “The tech is interesting, but in reality it doesn’t do much more than the acid foam 99856 discovered recently, and the device itself is too big for drones to carry while working. My original idea was that we could clear up dangerous caverns and secure a lot of sections we have to avoid now without the need to call for a high rank. We are so unbelievably limited by that,” it ends wistfully. Chrysalis scans the tinkerer’s mind when the mentioned topic lets her dig into the deeper parts of the drone’s mind, easily revealing that weapon usage against high ranks never crossed its mind nor did anyone talk with 99111 about it. With that scan finished, all that’s left is drawing the drone’s mind to the final interesting topic so that Chrysalis doesn’t need to waste energy or risk overloading the drone by too forceful of an access. Not that she would feel particularly bad, but 99111 is easily in the top ten of valuable drones, and crippling it or losing it outright would be entirely wasteful. “You’re using some transformations I haven’t seen before,” 99000 points to 99111’s forelegs and then to the arm on its back.  “My grabbers!” for the first time, 99111 smiles in the classic drone ear-to-ear way. Thanks to the easy mind reading, Chrysalis knows the answer immediately but lets 99111 say it out loud because it’s something the drone is visibly proud to share. She guessed it almost correctly even before talking to the drone anyway, “10k learned how to make the grabby hooves from 387, and the extra grabber on my back was a complete accident based on 10k trying to heal its carapace. Just like it tried to do, I grew it bit by bit by transforming over the course of many worky times and slowly getting used to it when it was still just a wriggler. While it worked for me, it didn’t for 10k, but it keeps trying,” 99111 finishes the explanation with, “I hope my work benefits other drones at least a fraction as much as its does.”  “I don’t doubt it, although you might be right about the dead end research,” 99000 gives the workshop one more look, “What would surface dwellers know about fighting off underground threats? If 99856 has better results in the offensive department, you can focus on more… social inventions,” it nods to the gramophone. “That’s what I’m trying to do. I’m glad there’s someone who understands it,” 99111 walks over and its extra arm pats 99000 on the head, “However, it’s hard to focus on music when we still lose on average one drone every thirteen worky times. Perhaps in the future.”  Just like with 99856, Chrysalis makes a final assessment.  Note for 99 - occasionally visit 99111. Suggest ideas for non-military mechanisms from ponies. Possibly send out infiltrators for specific technical knowledge gathering missions. Maybe send 99111 out accompanied, just like we did with 20100?  Seeing 99000’s brief pause, 99111 misunderstands it entirely and adds: “Don’t worry. You seem really smart and, now that the Queen paused digging operations around her project, the most dangerous area we’ve been working on is closed. If you don’t get overconfident, you’ll make it through your first couple worky times just fine.” Despite having an easy way to extract herself from the situation, Chrysalis finds herself unsure how to proceed. So far, everything seems innocent, but there are tiny issues she can’t pinpoint gnawing at her. The Queen is, whether she wants it or not, always connected to the whole hive, and something feels off. Perhaps this might be a good time and place to relax for a moment? “Certainly,” 99000 nods, “Hey, mind if I watch you work in silence for a while?” “Huh? I definitely don’t,” 99111 blinks, “It’ll be great to eventually have another drone to share ideas with. So far, no one’s really that interested in the clickers and tickers outside of me repairing pony stuff.” “Good,” 99000 sits down in the back, “Work as if I’m not here.”