//------------------------------// // Playing Games: 4 // Story: They're home. // by Nameless Narrator //------------------------------// 65536 has been busy searching the hive mind and hitting some unfortunate brick walls for the hour since letting 10k and 99200 rest. As expected, changeling biology is a barely-explored topic at best, but every changeling has experience with injuries and sometimes those have to heal over time. Those experiences are what 65536 is searching for inside every willing mind it can reach with 99380’s help. Sadly, that does mean mostly only other drones. “Someone wants to see you,” says the Voice suddenly. “Hmm?” in the real world, 65536 opens its eyes and looks around. 10k is sleeping, clothed and curled up by the amulet-heated box. 65536 would love to offer it its spare sleeping bag, but that’s one thing it can’t afford to get damaged under any circumstances. That would make the trip back home potentially vastly more difficult. 99200 is doing the same as 10k, only inside said box due to the lack of spare clothes. 156 is sitting on a cushion by the throne, busy with something hive mind-related as well. 99380 is still glued to the ceiling, waving the whoomer around in an attempt to pinpoint the exact location of the skip. 65536 can hear hoofsteps, though, and 99111 enters the throne room, followed by several shivering drones covered in snow they haven’t managed to shake off. More and more drones start trickling into the throne room one by one. “Heya, 65536!” 99111’s extra arm waves at it, “Umm, we have a question! Do we have to stay outside?” “Huh?” 65536 shakes its head, “No, of course not. I just thought you’d like to experience something new. Do you not like it?” “No- I mean yes, we do, buuut… the snow stuff started falling from the sky again, the Big Shiny is gone, and it’s gotten seriously cold,” explains 99111, “The guys digging the new vents are still working, don’t worry.” 65536 looks up and sharply calls out:  “Hey, 99380, tell the digging teams to return here immediately.” “Done!” the physics-defying drone calls back happily before pausing and adding, “Uhhh, it’ll take some time because they’re having trouble flying out due to the snowfall.” “Any volunteers to help pull the digging team out of the vents?” 65536 looks at the assembled crowd. With the exception of several visibly frozen drones with chunks of snow still packed in the gaps of their carapaces, everyone raises a leg. Only serious problems would stop a drone from helping another drone. In a moment, 65536 organizes a group to go help, keeping mentally in touch with them through 99380. Everyone else forms a circle around 10k, 99200, and the heating box, even though the warmth reaches only the first row. Several minutes later, the group of drones responsible for building the chimney in the throne room returns with the next load of stone slabs and starts turning those into smaller, hewn stones according to 65536’s blueprint. Other drones quickly join them and start helping, making this load of rectangular, perfectly smooth stones ready to be stacked in less than two minutes, which gives 65536 an idea. “Who wants to help build the chimney? We’ll have some proper heating that way,” it asks. Once again, nearly all drones raise a leg. 65536 smiles and starts giving out orders, splitting the drones into groups that would add dronepower to the digging ones and to the ones who transport the material. On top of that, it takes most of the spare heating amulets out of the box and lends them to a new group of drones with the orders not to rescue the vent diggers but to continue their work. That group will swap out after half an hour with a fresh one, giving the amulets to them, and so on. That way, the drones might be able to finish the work today despite the worsening weather. *** By the time Chrysalis returns from whatever she’s been doing, the drones move around 65536 like clockwork, and she can easily see the hive mind directions they’re all following as glowing lines with arrows and short descriptions.  “The vents are being dug, the fireplace is almost done and –I’m a bit shocked, frankly– everyone is still alive. Two almost froze to death, though, so it can’t have been a completely wasted day,” the Queen snickers and 65536 shoots her a face scrunch which she deflects by sticking her tongue out along with a smirk. When she lies down on the throne, 99856 enters the throne room with several green-tinted chunks of coal inside a stone box on its back instead of the usual method of being glued to a drone’s carapace or in a temporary resin container. It brings the supplies to 65536 who nods and flies up along the chimney, prodding it in various spots along the way. The original design of simply stacking hewn rocks in a square all the way to the ceiling having been abandoned shortly after starting, the outer seams of the final version a little wider than the inner ones and filled with goop, forming a brick and mortar pattern on the outside of the chimney while on the inside the rocks simply fit perfectly together. Satisfied with its structural findings, 65536 flies back down, moves the metal top from the original stove to the new one constructed at the bottom of the chimney, and puts two “coal” pieces into the fireplace. The drones gathered around and curiously watching 65536 finally realize where this is going and instinctively back off a little. “...let’s not overdo it on the first try. We don’t need a repeat of yesterday…” mutters 65536, transforms the surface of its hooves, grinds a part of one into the fireplace, and strikes them together. All drones twitch. The lightly-gooped coal carefully prepared by 99856 with the last incident in mind catches fire without exploding and, moments later, a plume of smoke starts getting vented upwards through the chimney. Once the flickering light starts making shadows dance in front of the new fireplace, drones in general start leaning closer to see what’s going on. As the fire grows stronger and the open feeding hole of the fireplace starts casting visible light, they drop all pretense and change formation from the semi-circle surrounding the fireplace to a massive huddle in front of it, mouths agape at their first sight of the flickering fire. “Be careful, fire in general gets very hot. That means painful to touch,” 65536 warns them, recalling 99200’s first instinct to immediately poke the shiny just as some of the closest drones start reaching out with their forelegs. They stop but leave their legs outstretched no matter if they finished moving on the floor or on another drone. “But it makes my hooves feel really nice and warm,” counters someone, “It’s like a tiny, shiny hug pile!” “Yup, and if your carapace isn’t hard enough, too many drones lying on you will crush you,” 65536 expands the analogy. “Hmmm,” the thinker pauses before looking at the pile of clothes that’s resting, “10k, can you think up a carapace that makes the pain part not happen? I want to hug the fire!” To 65536’s horror but unfortunately not its surprise, multiple voices rise in agreement.  “Let 10k sleep,” it orders in a patient but louder voice. Seeing that the new fireplace hasn’t turned the throne room into a blast zone covered in changeling chunks, Chrysalis flies down from the throne and everyone looks at her. “Out of the way, derps! Your Queen wants to warm up,” she walks through the immediately formed corridor and sits down in front of the fireplace, stretching all four legs towards it. When the closest drones, emboldened by their previous experience of sleeping on the throne, lean against her, she only raises an eyebrow but doesn’t shoo them off. 65536 taps the drone who is pressed against the Queen’s side, saying:  “Move a bit, please. I need to ask the Queen for something.” The drone nods and shuffles off. Chrysalis narrows her eyes, still looking directly into the fire. 65536’s tone and stiff sitting position tell her everything she needs to know - 65536 wants to ask something it thinks she’s going to have a problem with. The drone might easily be on a basic infiltrator level of social and psychological analysis, but it’s not good at faking its own behavior. For once, that’s not criticism. Straight as an arrow, that one.  “So?” is all she says when 65536 keeps taking its time.  “Your Majesty, I’d like to ask you for a full access to the hive mind, specifically regarding any and all information about changeling biology. I took a closer look at 10k’s condition and I think that a surgery can go a long way towards fixing it. However, while I was searching Canterlot libraries and asking the changelings I know, I had no luck finding any records of physical interactions with the body of a living changeling. Everyone just assumes we heal by shapeshifting, but 10k can’t. I asked 156 and 387 but they don’t know anything, and neither does the Voice.” “Hmmm,” Chrysalis rubs her chin, not reacting to the mention of the Voice, “What if I say no?” 65536 taps its hoof on the floor for a while before replying: “Even if I don’t count other drones, Mister Sharp wasn’t the only friend I lost over the years. I’m not letting trauma slowly take another one. There’s more to 10k’s wounds than physical damage, but right now that’s the only part I can help with. If you say no, I’ll operate on 10k anyway, and there will be a higher chance I will overlook something,” 65536 sighs, “If it helps. I’ll let you remove the knowledge from my head afterwards. Luna’s spell is sensitive enough.” Chrysalis shakes her head. On some level, I wish my high ranks were this open with me. “I don’t think that will be necessary. Changelings used to have real doctors, that’s true, but that knowledge is irreversibly lost. I doubt whatever little I personally remember will be useful, but I’ll section off the knowledge you’re looking for and let you access it along with a couple tricks to help you process information by using the hive mind. 10k uses those regularly, and so do the two pseudoscientists to a lesser degree.” “Thank you.” “Anything else? Anyone?” the Queen gives 65536 a hint it previously didn’t consider. It ponders the need for additional hooves. The surgeries it read about back home in preparation for this eventuality always had other participants. “Maybe 99380 to help me access the hive mind,” possibilities start crossing its mind, “57999 in case we need healing goop or a second pair of steady drone hooves for cutting. Finally, 3012, maybe? I might need a strong pair of legs to hold 10k steady and I don’t see the need to take up the time of top ranks. Can I ask for more later if something else comes to mind?” “Heh,” Chrysalis chuckles, “Welcome to the life of a top rank - endlessly rethinking every possible scenario and eventuality.” *** The Las Pegasus express is rolling on the tracks through the forest. It’s not a huge train, consisting only of two small passenger carriages, three larger passenger carriages with sleeping quarters, a dining car, and a bar car. And a locomotive, obviously. The smaller passenger carriages are still a spacious but simple affair - on both sides there are pairs of soft chairs facing each other over a table by a window, each pair separated by a raised wooden partition. The aisle provides enough space for the well-built earth pony steward currently pushing a cart with drinks to comfortably move through. The thud-thud of the train’s wheels is doing wonders to put the passengers at peace, specifically two passengers who haven’t moved from their seats since boarding. Unfortunately, their peace seems to be just a little unsettling for others. “Steward?” whispers a mare sitting across the aisle from the two changelings sleeping curled up in their respective seats, pointing at 99999, “They haven’t moved since boarding. I get that changelings might skip breakfast, but they didn’t even leave to sleep in their beds. Can you check their tickets, please?” “Miss, I saw them being seated last night. They’re the only changelings aboard. Whether or not they decide to use the train’s facilities is up to them,” replies the stallion steward. “Could you check up on them anyway, pleeease!” she adds. He turns to face the changelings, if only to look away from the mare and roll his eyes, and gently prods Smiley. The striped changeling mare silently looks up, blinks, looks around, and quickly reaches for the slate hanging on her neck just to touch it for comfort.  “Pardon me for waking you up,” says the steward, “The nice mare sitting across the aisle from you noticed you seem to have missed breakfast, and that you didn’t use your sleeping quarters last night. Is everything to your satisfaction so far?” Smiley starts rummaging in her backpack, and 99999, in the other seat, sits up with a yawn. “Hello!” it says, “We didn’t get any tickets for other cars. Ours just have these seat numbers,” it taps on the small, brass plaque on the top of the seat, “The Queen said we shouldn’t use more shinies than we need, so we just have one spot for each of us.” “Ah, I see,” the steward nods and waves his hoof dismissively at Smiley who pulls out her ticket, finally recalling it’s inside a leg hole and not in the backpack, “No need, Miss. This is your first time taking the express, I assume?” “Nope!” 99999 shakes its head, “The third! We went from Dodge-something to Appleplace and from there to Ponytown.” The steward glances at Smiley who has written: [Yes] “I meant the Las Pegasus express in particular,” he nods at her, “Things work differently here.” “Oh,” 99999 deflates, “Did we do something wrong?” “No no no,” the steward smiles and shakes his head, “I just want to clarify that your tickets give you access to these seats and also to the beds with the same number in the sleeping carriage. Not just that, but there are three meals a day included in the ticket price, which brings us to the missed breakfast. Of course, I don’t know how it works for changelings so this might be a moot point. Finally, you have access to the bar carriage where, in the evening, there will be a music band playing as well as other activities.” “Gasp!” exclaims 99999 after processing the information, “We can get noms without trading shinies?!” Smiley aims her tablet at the steward: [Free food?] “It is already included in the price of your ticket,” repeats the steward, “That means yes,” he adds when both changelings keep staring at him with hesitation. “Where’s the breakfast food place, Mister pony?” 99999 stands up in its seat eagerly, eyes sparkling. “I’m on my way back there with the trolley,” the steward taps the metal construction he’s pushing, “Feel free to come with me.” 99999 looks at Smiley who replies with: [Explore] Both changelings take their backpacks and follow the steward to the exit of the carriage where 99999 stops and says: “Wait!” As the steward and Smiley stop, 99999 dashes back through the carriage towards the mare who originally complained, and hugs her to her absolute shock and visible disgust. “YOU’RE THE BEST, PONY LADY!” With that, 99999 runs back accompanied by snickering of several other passengers as well as the steward. After passing through the sleep carriage and the first class suite carriages, the steward finally leads them to the dining car with only a few late passengers still eating. The staff are slowly cleaning up, and the steward says: “Well, here we are. You can order a breakfast plate by that glass pane there.” “Thank you!” 99999 beams and Smiley smiles. [Thank you] “If you’re unsure about anything else, feel free to ask the staff. That’s why we’re here,” the pony nods and heads off to put the trolley away. The two changelings walk over to the glass partition with the serving pony, but before they order, 99999 stops, its ears twitching. “Smiley, I can hear music from the next car! They got tunes and noms here! WHAT DO WE DO FIRST?!” the drone’s eyes keep darting from the food to the door to the next car. Smiley, being the voice of reason and moderation, decides: [Start here]