An Exercise In Management

by Nameless Narrator

15: Onwards to introductions!

I hear the door click, and open my eyes. My weak, inferior eyes. Damn, after a whole day inside Eight I sorta regret returning to this body. It’s so… slow, stiff, and weak.

It’s mine, though, and that counts.

What is something I couldn’t feel inside Eight is... ‘a tracker’ would be the best way to describe it. Even without seeing out of Truncheon’s living room, I know with absolute certainty that there are a common drone, a top-rank warrior, and a mediocre infiltrator entering the building.

I tapped out after the incident with Slipstream, and ‘fell asleep’ inside Eight. I don’t know if she noticed throughout the day, but if she did then she didn’t try anything to wake me up… or she did and failed. Anyway, I got some much needed sleep.

Experimentally, I try connecting with Eight, and her mind accepts me sharing her sight for a second without a problem… or without even noticing. Three is exactly the same, although for a moment my point of view is significantly lower. Ten, however, resists, and despite failing to interrupt my entry, I feel something like a mental steel wall preventing me from controlling him. Is that what Eight was talking about, the increased autonomy of infiltrators? I… think I could break through, but not without causing damage.

“What the heck?” I hear Ten from the hallway, “Stop that!”

Breaking the link, I realize I’m still inside my body. This was different from what we did with Eight, this was just me tapping into their sensory input without actually being there. I’ll have to explore the abilities of my new body over time. Now, since we’re in no apparent danger, I just stretch and yawn.

Damn, I’m weak. Oh yeah, I gave most of my love to Eight.

“Hey, King,” she enters the living room, dropping her disguise as Truncheon and smiling. Is she actually genuinely happy to see me?

“Hi, how was the day? I sorta shut down after you told the two earthponies the fake story. Wait, where’s Ten?”

“I sent him and Three to get Slipstream’s body down to the cellar. I’ll go make the cocoon in a minute. Before that-”

Without a warning she wraps her foreleg around my neck and kisses me. I feel overwhelming amount of love rush through my every vein and recharge me. I drink it like an addict getting his fix, gulping down a combination of love and Eight’s own dripping lust mixed with saliva.

I forcibly cut the flow of energy off, making Eight pull her tongue out of my throat.

“I’ve got more,” she gives me a questioning look.

“Keep it. You’re going to be out there among ponies. I can’t have you get in trouble because you get hungry or something.”

“I know how much I can survive on.”

“That’s an order, Eight.”

She closes her eyes, sighs, and then touches my nose with hers.

“I don’t trust Ten. I know how much love I need to deal with him in case he tries something, but I don’t want to leave you… vulnerable.”

I chuckle.

After the feeding, I feel completely different. I can see the specks of dust on the shelf hanging on the opposite wall of the living room, I can hear Ten dragging Slipstream across the floor in the cellar and muttering to himself.

“...making me work. Don’t have a drone to do it. I should be at a ball somewhere, getting ready to empty mine into some willing noblemare...”

“I can help you,” something clinks as if dropped on the floor when Three speaks out.

Ten practically yelps at the offer.

“No, nonononono, I’m fine. Thank you for the offer, Three. No reason to waste your energy on this miniscule task.”

My chuckle turns into a short laugh.

So this is how it works. The changeling types have a baseline of physical power which grows with love. I, as a K- whatever I am now, am completely dependent on how much love I’ve got inside me which means when I’m starving I’ll be vastly weaker than a warrior or infiltrator, but I think I can store much more love and use it to become stronger than any of them as long as it lasts.

I still can’t shapeshift for some reason, though.

“I’m alright, Eight. Besides, you’ll have Ten with you while I have to be sitting here. You’re the one in danger.”

She frowns and crosses her forelegs on her chest.

“I said my piece.”

I bow, putting my muzzle onto the carpet.

“Thank you.”

When I look up, she’s just staring, eyes open wide and jaw dropped.

That’s a lot of teeth. Do I have that much teeth now? Drones don’t have long muzzles, so our smile or surprise don’t usually look as if someone dropped a buzzsaw.

“So you are the King Eight kept droning about,” Ten, still disguised as Slipstream, finally enters the living room with Three in tow who in turn is dragging a pitchfork almost triple his size with his mouth and foreleg.

Do I try to look regal, or do I try to be myself?

”Low ranked infiltrator, a basic tool for minor love gathering. Use, then breed a better one.”

Shut. Up.

Though thank you for giving me my answer. I am me, I am not a bloodthirsty conduit for the hive mind.

Yet…

“I’m no king,” I admit, looking Ten in the eyes, “I was a drone who got hurt before even leaving the hive for the invasion. I fell unconscious and when I woke up I looked like this. I tried to follow the trail of dead drones eaten by higher ranks,” I narrow my eyes. Ten has the decency to look away, so he might not be a completely lost cause, “and I found Eight and Three.”

Eight facehoofs. Yes, I understand this seems like a terrible idea, but so did giving Eight love when she was dying in the first place.

“Now, Eight will call me a moron after this, but I’ll be straight with you. I don’t know what I’m doing, and I’m just trying to think of a course of action that won’t get us killed.”

Ten watches me, clearly thinking.

“I won’t force you to stay with us or obey me. You can keep Slipstream’s disguise, get fed in the bar tonight, and leave if you want. Oh, and one last thing - Three really is just a drone. He’s from one of the last clutches before the invasion just like I am. His rank is this high only because I refuse to call him two hundred thousand and something, and because he was the first guy I found and there was three in his rank somewhere, I think.”

Ten keeps staring.

“That’s all,” I add.

“So, it was you who took Eight over in the police station, and who got into my head when we arrived.”

“Yes.”

He rubs his chin.

“I can offer you my services… temporarily. I can get you love far better than she can,” he nods towards Eight, “No matter her rank. I was ‘made’ for it. In return - no manual labor like a commoner. I’m here to break fair maiden flanks, not wooden planks.”

“Have you actually ever gotten even close to a real noble, low rank?” interrupts Eight.

“I- well, I got some personal maids...” Ten withers under Eight’s burning gaze.

“Then let me add something the King didn’t say. He’s nice. I’m not. I don’t like you, I don’t trust you, and the only thing standing between you and me draining you until you’re a husk is the King.”

Ten looks in horror from her to me.

“If you help us, I’ll give you the best treatment i can. If you choose to leave, you’re free to do so just like I said. Eight only added one thing I didn’t think of. I have no intention of returning to Chrysalis. If you have a problem with it and try to… cause us trouble, then I’ll let Eight do whatever she wants with you. Or Three can hug you to death, both work. Those are my terms.”

Ten nods after a moment of thought.

“What’s the plan then?”

“For now, you and Eight take over the police. Keep an eye on anypony too focused on changelings. If you find another survivor of the explosion you spoke of, talk to them and try to recruit them. Gain as much love as you can, but keep it subtle. We’re not in a hurry, I think, but we need to recover. None of us are in a good shape. We might spend a week or a month here, don’t worry about that.”

“We’re going to need more changelings if we want to take the town over.”

“We DON’T want that, that’s the point. We need to settle in and see what ponies are doing after the invasion. Saving survivors takes priority right now. I don’t think cocooning the whole town is a good idea. Just do your duties well, blend in with the townsfolk, gain love. I’ll tap into your heads from time to time in order to see for myself since I can’t shapeshift and go outside.”

“Can we take over different ponies?”

“You’re not sleeping with the Mayor’s wife,” Eight stomps the floor, “While we’re in Wet Soil you’re Slipstream and that’s final! Oh, and since you’ve never bagged an ACTUAL noble, you’re still doing manual chores.”

I nod.

“I agree with Eight on this one.”

“B- but you won’t let me take the Mayor’s wife, and I have to be a mare! How can I get out of having to use my hooves?”

“Surprise me.”

Comments

[Clear_Skies]

Really a shame this hasn't taken off, or gotten a front page highlight!
I'm really enjoying the dynamics you've tossed into the various characters, and how things are growing between all of them in terms of trust, responsibility and having a growing character arc.

Looking forward to the next chapter!

[Nameless Narrator]

8589884
I've gotten to the front page only once with Imbalanced, and to this day I have no clue how I managed that . I'm not a good writer, but I'm happy for everyone who actually likes my characters and the stories which grow around them.

Here's to hoping I don't fail you too hard or too soon.

[SWEETOLEBOB18]

8589955
Too some extent, it depends on "how much do you post?"
It also depends on "how popular are you?"
But, damned if I know "How do you get folks to read it if you aren't featured?"

[tsaukpaetra]

Hehe, drone Blueblood wannabe.

[Doctor_Den]

because I already read "They're... ON HOLIDAY?" and "They're everywhere" I know that Blueblood is a pony. But this scout "10" is like his secret student. He is too much like him in character. :)

[Nameless Narrator]

11430835
I mean, both Ten and BB are very different in On Holiday. 4 years make one hell of a difference.