//------------------------------// // More questions than answers: 5 // Story: They're home. // by Nameless Narrator //------------------------------// Worky time is in full swing, and 99111 and 99856 are busy inside 99111’s workshop. A single green barrel is standing in the back - the result of 99111 fulfilling 10k’s request for cleaning goop relayed by 99856. Due to that, the tinkerer is dizzy and exhausted, only directing a glowgoop stick with its fifth limb towards a workbench from the side while giving instructions to 99856 who is using stone molds to create goop parts instead of 99111. Grinding of a door sliding along its hinges makes the two pause and tilt their heads in sync while watching 65536 strain under the weight of two crates gooped together. They are big even for comfortable drone cargo, but the fact that 65536 is gasping for breath and visibly shaking hints at the contents being also exceedingly heavy. 99856 wordlessly looks at 99111 who nods and takes over the chemist’s part-crafting while the other drone rushes off to help 65536.  “Thanks,” croaks 65536 when 99856 carefully repositions the boxes gooped to the Nightguard’s back and puts one on the floor, gasping at the weight, “That was the light one, though. Be careful with the other one.” “Light one?” 99856 blinks in surprise but follows 65536’s directions to the letter and the two eventually manage to put a crate that would make Big Mac sweat down safely.  “Holy holes!” 99856 sits down afterwards, “What’s in that box? Wait, no, how did you carry both of them here? From where?” 65536 joins it on the floor, struggling to slow its breathing down. “From near the throne room,” it replies vaguely, unwilling to divulge the location of its travelling cart with presents. “Hnnng?!” 99856’s eyes bulge, “By yourself, all the way?” “It’s all just training, buddy,” 65536 lets out a raspy chuckle, its breathing gradually growing steadier, “It took me years to stop instinctively relying on wasting love on everything. Anyway, that’s neither here nor there- that means it’s not relevant to what I’m here for,” 65536 adds and stands up again, wincing as its muscles protest, “Whoa, maybe I should have taken two trips after all. Lesson in humility, I guess,” it shakes its head and changes the subject, “Speaking of twos, it’s nice seeing you guys work together this closely.” “I’m just helping out,” 99856 forces itself to stand up as well, still in awe of 65536’s strength and endurance, ”10k stopped by and wanted some cleaning goop,” it nods to the barrel in the back, “Maybe a bit too much of it, and it kinda exhausted 99111. Making goop parts for the music box is interesting,” 99856 beams in the end, “Less dangerous at least. I don’t even need my goggles!” In the room that’s silent aside from their conversation, they hear a crack followed by 99111’s disappointed sigh.  “Still not hard enough,” the tinkerer drains the love out of the broken part, recovering the vast majority of the love spent on making it, “Sorry I didn’t help, 65536. This attempt looked promising and I didn’t want to waste 99856’s materials.” “The important thing is that everything is here,” 65536 smiles and yawns. Bringing both boxes at the same time while this tired might have been overkill after all, doubly so because it didn’t want to burn love for enhancements and recovery. “What is it?” 99111 walks over. “It was originally supposed to be a present for you, but when I arrived I heard the gramophone was broken so I decided it would be better for everyone if I gave it to you early. This way you’ll be able to play music for everyone on Hard Swarming Eee while I and Shiny Nose give out other presents. Don’t worry, Shiny Nose agreed with me giving these presents early.” 99111’s eyes light up. “Will Shiny Nose let me boop her this time? Please please please please! Her nose is so red and shiny!” “The best I can offer is that she will skip you only across the goop pit this time,” is 65536’s counteroffer. “Deal!” 99111 beams, “Bouncing all over the floor and between the pillars wasn’t great. Her aim is impressive, though. Eeee, I can’t wait!” it adds with an acknowledging nod before it regains its composure and taps on the smaller crate, “Ehm, sorry, I got a bit carried away. Back to this thing…” “Right!” shaking its head to stop its vision from swimming, 65536 clops its hooves together and opens the container. The other two drones watch as it takes a strange, large box out of it and sets it on the floor. 99856 is completely lost, but 99111 circles around it, leaning its head down to the floor and examining it up close. “Spinnies, pony scribbles, a mesh thingy in the front. Is this a talky box?” the tinkerer hazards a guess, “It’s the biggest one I’ve seen.” “Yep, it is!” 65536 nods with a smile, “I had to find an older one. They’re built differently and are much easier to fix without very special tiny parts that would be too difficult to make here,” it pulls out a small book from the bottom of the crate and waves it in the air, “In here, there are complete blueprints of everything needed to build and maintain this along with instructions. Either rewrite it to something more lasting than paper, or keep the book in a dry place. Using it, I managed to build a radio back home out of various kinds of goop with Miss Gem’s help, so it’s possible. Still, Miss Gem can make pretty much any material or ingredient ever, so it’ll be much more difficult for you to find the right mixes if you wanna try, but at least you’ll have something to occupy you two for a long time. Mostly you, 99856. As I said, the parts are easy to shape, but the right kind of goop will be a challenge.” “What do I do then?” 99856 keeps watching the big radio, still unsure what the ‘talky’ box is for. “Hmmm,” 99111 rubs its chin before 65536 can answer, “If I recall correctly, there’s stuff missing - a long gre- iron stick and bouncy noodles that go into the holes in the back,” as if remembering something important, it freezes for a second before grabbing the book and starting flipping the pages while shining a glowgoop stick at it from above with its back limb, “Yeah, here - antenna and cables? Is that right?” it looks at 65536 who beams from ear to ear. “Remember when I asked the Queen for an extra shaft right above High Score Cavern? The antenna is in there along with a pulley. I’ve been setting it up since I finished operating on 10k.” “Wait, that was last breaky time. Did you even sleep? I didn’t sense you here.” “Nope, too much to do and too little time,” 65536 shakes its head and raises its hoof when 99111 opens its mouth to protest, “Don’t worry. Once we’re done here I’m going straight to bed. My body is used to much longer shifts but my head has been pounding since the surgery. I know my limits.” “Buddy, then just tell me what to do with this and go to sleep. We still have time until Hard Swarming Eee.” “Oh, right!” 65536 chuckles, “I must be more tired than I thought,” it points to the disassembled gramophone on a secondary workbench, “The spring for the manual crank is broken and the power crystals are, obviously, empty, right?” “Mhm,” 99111 nods, “When the crystals stopped shining, we used the turny- crank as you told us but it didn’t last long either. You see how well my attempts at repairing it are going,” it adds with a frown. “Which brings us to the second present. 99856?” it looks at the chemist silently watching what’s going on, still puzzled, “Can you help me unpack this?” Some instructions later, the larger crate is opened and the two drones very carefully lay the contents on the floor. This time, both 99111 and 99856 exchange looks, because neither have the faintest idea what the assortment of cables, metal poles, screws, and many more parts could be for. “Ohhh-kay,” 65536 steps back from the parts and pulls out another book from the corresponding crate, “All this… I’m going to need you two to read this book and assemble it,” it vaguely waves its foreleg at the laid out parts, “I think the exhaustion from carrying the crates is hitting me.” “What is it?” asks 99856, hungry for any understanding because it’s been lost for a while. “A griffon electricity generator! Took me months to get one from the Griffon Empire. Those metal poles build into a spinning wheel inside which a pony can run and the rest of the device generates electricity which is stored in the spare power crystals,” it points to the parts one by one as it talks, “It’s not exactly efficient but it’s the best thing I could get. It’s pretty sturdy so it should last for a long time but, just like with the radio, it’ll be up to you to figure out how to fix it in hive conditions,” 65536 stumbles backwards out of nowhere, “Or maybe you can ask an infiltrator on their way to Canterlot to tell me if you need something so that I can bring it next freezy time and-” 99111 walks over and hugs 65536. “It’s amazing that you think of us this much, but we do need to learn to deal with at least some problems on our own,” it guides 65536 down onto the floor, “How about you take the needed nap now and let us get to assembling? I promise we’ll wake you up if we get stuck.” “But there’s so much I still need to tell you-” objects 65536, cutting itself off by its own yawn, “How to wire it up, the potential repair materials-” “Heh,” 99111 pats its head, “Buddy, we’re not that smart. We’ll be lucky if we assemble all the parts of this tricky ge-ne-ra-tor before you wake up.” “You can do it. I believe in you,” 65536 yawns again. “99856,” the tinkerer’s voice turns commanding, “Carry 65536 off and ask 99200 if it has some more webs so that it sleeps on something soft this sleepy time. I’ll start with the reading.” “Can I come back and read too?” asks 99856, picking up 65536 mumbling to itself, “I don’t need to be experimenting right now.” “Of course. I’ll never make it in time without you, especially with how tired I am from filling that barrel.” 99856 leaves with 65536 on its back, and 99111 opens the second book. “Au-xi-li-a-ry power ge-ne-ra-tor EX-3NV assembly manual and main-te-nance instructions- ooh, pictures!” *** 99380 is walking on the ceiling around the presumed skip entrance and waving the Wavelength Reforger around seemingly at random. By now, it has so much experience with mapping a way how to enter a skip that it could do it in its sleep, which is a good thing because its conscious mind is busy thinking about something far more important… maybe. Maybe it’s completely irrelevant. 99380 isn’t sure. The history of changelings, the small parts of it which the Queen showed to the drone earlier, told a grim tale of mistakes, prejudice, and evil which had been hanging like a dark cloud over its mind since. Specifically one simple question: Are we the baddies? The answer, however, is a little more complicated. Who do I mean by we? Drones? If so, there’s no way. We never had a say in anything and we wouldn’t hurt anyone even if we could. It’s kinda lucky that no one realized how special our digging was until we- I mean until High Score and 10k’s buddies hurt magic baddies in the logging camp. We’re just drones and we dig and carry stuff. We’re not supposed to be mean. If by ‘we’ I mean changelings, then… yeeeah, we are the baddies. Well, we were. We treated ponies like… like high ranks treated us in High Score’s days. Plus, they were food, and not in the hugs and cuddles kind of way. In the… bad way. 99380’s body shows no outside sign of 99380’s mind taking a brief mental break. I wish I could talk to someone about it, but the Queen was clear that no one can know. So… I don’t know how to feel about all the stuff the Queen showed me. Ponies made us, but then they hated us. We couldn’t feed from them because we couldn’t get love normally, so we did the bad feeding stuff which only made things worse. But then some nice Queens tried to make peace again and the bad changelings stopped it. Over and over and over and over. 99380 sighs internally. A memory, this time its own, flashes in front of its eyes - a question posed in various situations by the older drones, most often by 36658: What would High Score do? Just like that, the answer becomes clear. What happened so long ago that even the Queen wasn’t born yet doesn’t matter. What matters is what we do now. Ponies did bad things to us, we did bad things to ponies, we did bad things to us, and I’m sure ponies did bad things to ponies too. Now, though, ponies like 65536 and they grew to like me and the others when we were on the trip too.  High Score would give hugs to everyone once or twice, and only those who would hug back would get the third hug. 99380 is happy to be one of the simple drones. With existential crisis averted, it refocuses on mapping the skip entrance again using ‘the Whoomer’ with a smile on its face and quiet humming under its breath. “How’s it going?” asks 156 some time later, lying on her back on the throne room floor and watching, in response to the drone finally pausing for longer. The two are alone, Chrysalis having left to do something private and 387 still missing.  Should I be worried? No, 156, that’s just the old-times paranoia talking. There’s nothing to threaten someone like him in today’s hive. “I think I got the general idea of how to enter this one,” 99380 responds, linking up with 156 and sharing the presumed sequence of movements, “Now I just have to figure out the details.” 156 examines the hive mind record. “I see, you know in which directions to move on a three-dimensional plane, but you don’t know how quickly or precisely how far yet, or if there's a need for jerky motions.” “That was… a lot of words?” 99380 smiles hesitantly. “I mean that you deserve a hug for a job well done,” 156 stands up, flies up to 99380, turns around, glues herself to the ceiling, although she can’t do it in the same mysterious way the drone does it, and wraps a foreleg around the tiny changeling. “Hugs are the best…” mumbles 99380, leaning into the touch. “How about you enjoy a well-deserved rest and let me do the rest of the work? The fireplace is freshly full and the tea is boiling. You have my permission to take a nap and have a cup- that means you can fill a cup and drink it, not take the cup itself,” 156 clarifies, knowing her drones. “Alrighty! What’s tea?” 99380 does its weird teleport thing and is standing by the stove in an instant. The requested knowledge fills its mind instantly, “Oh, okay!” “Good. Be careful, it’s scald- very hot,” 156 nods and concentrates on the mark created inside the hive mind as a key to the skip. It’s still vague compared to the finished ones and it’s immediately clear what’s missing.  So, 99380 maps out a four-dimensional shape and the next step is to polish it into a usable set of instructions with accurate timings. Huh, 99380 already records the shape in great detail, I just need to translate it right. Some lines are weaker and stronger in places, which means the movement gets slower or quicker. If I figure out the “base” speed drones use, it should work. She reaches into 99380’s head for previous experiences with using skips. The drone glances her way, aware of her intrusion, but doesn’t comment and carefully pours the tea from the kettle into the cup. With the new knowledge in her head, 156 starts with the movements upside-down. It really shouldn’t surprise me by this point that 99380 can sense me if I’m not trying to hide. 99380 looks up as 156’s link suddenly vanishes.  “Huh, only a couple minutes? Makes sense a high rank would figure it out faster than we usually do,” it shrugs and takes a deep sniff of the steam coming out of the dented mug, “Ow! Why does it smell so nice but so hurty? I didn’t even drink it yet. Is the tea angry at me?” it checks the hive mind for tea drinking instructions and finds none. “Sorry, tea!” it watches the mug experimentally for a while, “Can I drink you?” The mug doesn’t reply. Despite 99380 being one of the very few drones having experience with a deadly level of heat due to its island trip, there are still many unknowns to figure out about drinking. Not counting the recent coal fire, that is, and that was more smoke than heat anyway. In the usual manner of a drone, it completely forgets what it was supposed to do and follows the new train of thought. It sticks the tip of its hoof into the mug, adding a spreading layer of muck into the liquid. “Cold floor. Hot mug. What happens now?” it puts the mug on the cold floor instead and watches the rising steam, “Uhh. I’m kinda out of ideas. I wish 99856 was here. It would know what to do. Will 156 be mad at me if I don’t drink it?” The steam condenses on the thinking drone’s nose, forming a thin, wet layer. 99380 sniffs and wipes its muzzle. “Floaty water?” it patiently sits and waits for minutes until the steam stops coming. It sniffs the mug again and this time the air above it feels cooler, so it takes a sip, “Hot hot hot hot! Tastes and smells really nice, though,” some of the dirt its hoof left in the mug before grinds between its teeth, “Crunchy too!” “99380!” Chrysalis’ voice echoes inside the drone’s head, “Where are you?” “I’m in the throne room, Your Magic Stick! 156 told me to drink a cup of tea but it keeps burning me whenever I try to do that.” “Did you take it off the stove?” asks Chrysalis in an unusually patient and motherly tone “Yes, Your Magic-” “Majesty,” Chrysalis corrects 99380 calmly. “Your Majesty! Sorry, I’m still focused on the tea a bit too much.” “Just leave it in a cold place for a couple minutes and it’ll cool down. Then drink it.” “I’ll move it a bit further away from the stove,” the drone immediately repositions the cup several steps away. “Good drone. Meet me here once you’re done with the tea,” a hive map marker appears on the lower levels, “No need to rush, but also don’t waste time. I’ll know if you do either.” “Okay!” 99380 beams, which would confuse any non-changeling casually observing the drone alone and in silence inside the throne room.  Briefly pausing, it remembers to store the peculiar find in the hive mind. Note to 99856 and 99111 - if you heat water enough, it starts floating. I’m sure you smart guys will figure out something neat to do with it. One brilliant idea later, 99380 grabs the mug again and sits down in front of the stove with its back to it while steadying the mug with all four legs. “Hee, I’m warm all over now.”