Day 9 - The Wobbly-leg Frogger: 2/9
99526 waves at a griffon guard perched on the edge of a store overlooking the promenade while walking along the road one level above it. The griffon, clearly positioned so that he can see both the promenade as well as 99526, shuffles out of sight in response and the drone jumps into the nearest bush. There’s a plan in place and it must do its part. The moment it’s in cover it pulls out a piece of chalk from a leg hole and bends so that it can reach its side with its foreleg. There’s a series of large numbers written in white chalk nicely contrasting with the black carapace there, currently reading 10013. It wipes those off, writes down 99526, hides the chalk again, and sneaks along the side of the building down the slope to the promenade level. Pretending to be one of the currently missing drones in a crowd might be risky because, to be honest, 99526 is fully aware that it might forget which one it’s pretending to be if it’s put on the spot for whatever reason. Drones don’t usually think clearly under pressure and, to be honest, props to 99526 for being aware of it.
Moments later, 99526 mixes into the crowd gathering around the Scufflestic match area which seems to have grown considerably within the past fifteen minutes for no discernable reason.
“Gasp! Shinies!” it stops all of a sudden, prompting the griffon walking behind it to trip and steady itself by a quick flap of its wings as they try to avoid it, “Sorry!” the nudge returns 99526 back to reality and it darts between creatures to the side of the promenade where there stands a booth offering sparklers, romane candles, and overall a wide assortment of non-launchable fireworks. It remains standing in front of the booth, simply staring upwards at the counter, or more specifically at the trio of sparklers active above it, with awe, entirely unaware of its immovable position forcing the entire crowd passing by to step over it or go around.
The salesmare, a unicorn because clearly the long-lasting sparklers must be magical, eventually notices the drone and looks down over the counter.
“Hello?” she asks with hesitation, “See anything you like?”
“EVERYTHING!”
“Oh, uh,” the mare blinks, taken aback, “Do you want to buy anything specific?”
Those numbers on the side of the booth must mean the amount of shinies to get the… shin- sparklies! Can 20100 help? Ooof, no, too busy. Gotta choose, gotta choose, gotta choose!
“The sparkly sticks! How many can I get for all this?” 99526 doesn’t even bother counting, flies up to the counter, and opens any leg holes it can recall in its excitement, shaking off several bit coins of varied denominations.
Despite the unicorn mare being weirded out by the changeling’s behavior, it doesn’t seem dangerous so her business instinct wins and she swipes the scattered coins and counts them.
“Sixteen sparklers. Do you really want that man-”
“YES!” 99526 beams, floating in the air.
“Your call,” she shrugs, “Just break the red tip off when you want to light them up. It’s my personal invention that makes it so you don’t need a lighter to set them off.”
“Yaaaaay!”
***
The situation has escalatored.
65536, with its wings tied by a vine wrapped around its body and forelegs tied together with multiple more vines, is standing on a stump using its hind legs with a noose wrapped around its neck and tied to a branch above. It looks from side to side where 36658 and 10013 are balancing in the same precarious position, waiting for the situation to unfold.
After catching them, the natives ignored anything 65536 said and brought them here, to a torch and totem-surrounded clearing hosting a massive block of stone with markings painted on it situated by a sheer cliffside, where an elderly hippogriff wearing a feather headdress began chanting something as the other natives prepared the drones for hanging on a nearby tree. Many more tribe members arrived to watch the spectacle too.
“What do we do? This is costing us precious time,” mentally comments 36658.
“I’ve been wondering this for a while - does that stone thingy look incredibly out of place to you too?” asks 10013.
“Guys, I have an idea. After they kick the wood from under our legs, just stick your tongue out and stare blankly ahead. Don’t blink,” says 65536.
“Why would they do that? It’s hard to keep standing up alread-”
The old hippogriff calls out something, and the three others kick the stumps from under the drones’ legs. The drones stick their tongues out and just keep looking ahead while swinging by their necks as instructed, their protective eye membranes stopping them from needing to blink.
“You know,” ponders 36658, “I kinda like this. My back’s been a bit tight for some time and I think this is helping. Is this some sort of medicine?”
“Yeah, like when I did yoghurt with Miss Cadance,” 10013 agrees, “I felt super stretched afterwards. Tired but a good kind of tired.”
“Uhhhh,” 65536 pauses, “Do you guys want to know the real reason why they’re doing this? It would ruin your mood, I think.”
“You know what? This feels too nice to ruin it,” replies 10013, “We DEFINITELY need to set up some hangers like this back home. After a proper worky time of hauling heavy stuff, you could just relax and streeeetch- ahhh, I think something inside my back just crunched and relaxed.”
With the drones simply hanging by the tough carapace covering their necks, the natives start chanting something rhythmic and dancing from side to side.
“Oo-ga boo-ga oo-ga cha-ga!” the old hippogriff grabs a spear and starts raising it into the air in sync with the rhythm of the chant.
The chant goes on for several minutes.
The chant suddenly stops as the hippogriffs look as one at 10013 with horrified expressions.
10013 realizes that the relaxed feeling all over its body took over and it started humming along and kicking its leg to the rhythm of the native song, all with a happy grin on its muzzle.
“-hmm-ga hmm… goop,” 10013 stops.
“Follow my lead!” orders 65536 suddenly.
The Nightguard drone uses the moment of the natives’ pure shock to dig away its restraints with a flick of its hoof, cut itself from the branch, and advance at the group with its tongue still out, eyes bulged, and the remnants of the noose still hanging from its neck.
“Braaaains…” it groans in a haunting tone, baring its teeth.
“Graaaains…” moans 36658 who lands next and advances on the hippogriff shaman.
“Good thinking! They could be herbivores,” 65536 mentally compliments 36658.
“Ahhhh hah hah haaa…” 10013 laughs as it stretches on the ground, “Let’s do this again…”
That’s the final blow. Those hippogriffs able to control their wings blast off, crashing through the tree canopies, those who can’t just run off, galloping as fast as their legs can carry them.
“What was that all about?” 10013 looks around the now empty clearing.
“I’ll explain when we’re not in a hurry,” says 65536, rushing towards the stone altar, “Let’s search this place before they return.”
“This stone isn’t black like the one on the mountain but it does look just as smooth,” 10013 joins it and puts its ear to the altar. Moments later, it stomps the ground, “Yup, there’s empty space under our hooves, and I think I can hear this big rock buzzing. Stop moving for a moment, I can’t hear properly over all the crunching,” a brief pause later, 10013 nods and starts walking around the altar, eyes narrowed, “I’m pretty sure there should be- ah hah!” it leans close to the altar.
“Astz aven devrit,” a mechanical voice comes out of the altar’s side where 10013 is.
“Nice find, but I thought your chatty rock talked like we do,” comments 65536 as the drones back away.
“I think that it heard us talk and knew what to say. I don’t think it can hear our links,” says 10013, “Hi, chatty rock! We’re changelings and we’d like to enter.”
“Language recognized. Recalibrating for input-”
“Stay right here, chatty rock! We’ll come back as quickly as we can,” 10013 pats the giant stone altar and turns away.
“Do we go back and bring 10101 now?” asks 36658 and 65536 looks at 10013.
“Yup. Let’s move!” 10013 nods, “The first game is bound to be over by now.”
***
The Commander of the Griffon Imperial Legion garrison of the resort is sitting on the roof of a store overlooking the central crossroad where the match between Queen Chrysalis and Shining Armor ends with:
“ONE HAS TO ADMIRE QUEEN CHRYSALIS’ DETERMINATION BUT SHINING ARMOR WINS SIXTY-ONE TO TWENTY-THREE POINTS AT ROUND FIVE, STOMPING GAME ONE!” Trixie’s announcement makes the GIL captain smirk.
May the Emperor damn you to the darkest pits of Tartarus, parasite!
“AND I’M HEARING THAT THE NEXT GAME WILL BEGIN IN TEN MINUTES, SO GRAB SOME REFRESHMENTS AND WE’LL SEE YOU IN THERE. HOPEFULLY, THE QUEEN WILL THINK UP A WINNING STRATEGY BECAUSE EMPEROR SHINING ARMOR CAME READY TO KICK SOME PLOT!”
Normally, someone of a Commander rank wouldn’t bother with guarding duties but the presence of a changeling Queen and the recent developments pose a good reason for him to be present personally. A second GIL griffon flies up to the commander’s post and salutes.
“Report!” says the Commander.
“The ranked hive changelings are all present at the game, but the drones are difficult to get a hold of. We think we’ve got all of them counted, but aside from the one painting portraits at the game, the bigger one with the writing slate, and at least one present in their suite they’re impossible to distinguish and keep running around like hatchlings. Thankfully, some of them wrote their… numbers on them which helps us keep track.”
“And you believe a changeling?” the Commander facepalms.
“Of course not, but we’ve matched reports and sightings and it looks like they’re valid. The little changelings don’t seem particularly smart or malevolent, so the numbers might just be there to help public relations. In reality, though, we have little or no way of figuring out which changeling is which.”
“Understood,” the Commander nods, “Keep up the good work and stay vigilant. Unless their Queen is sandbagging, she’s going to lose whatever this public game is pretty badly, and from whatever little information on her we’ve managed to scrounge up it seems she’s not great at controlling her emotions. She’ll call foul play, do something stupid, and we’ll jump her.”
“Judging by the length of the game, we’ll gather everyone here in the next hour or s-”
*BOOM!*
An explosion rattles the promenade windows and makes both griffons look west where a small mushroom cloud of rainbow smoke is suddenly rising from the promenade, reaching barely to the second floor of the stores.
*BOOM!*
Again and again, more rainbow explosions. Despite an original brief burst of screaming, no one seems to be fleeing now and the onlookers have formed a circle around the source of the explosions, leaving the situation to the gathering GIL soldiers.
***
Mistakes were made.
As 99526 stumbles uncontrollably backwards along the road one level above the promenade, the only thought crossing its mind again and again is:
Mistakes were made.
If there’s a good side to its current situation it’s that, quite probably, it is drawing attention to itself.
“Nonononono- achoo!” it sneezes again, reflexively covering its muzzle with both forelegs covered in lit sparklers.
*BOOM!*
There isn’t much pressure in the ensuing explosion, but there certainly is a lot of smoke and color.
“CEASE!” 99526 hears a forceful male voice.
“I’m try-” the drone breathes in for an answer, which immediately makes the smoke from the numerous sparklers assault its nostrils again, “Ach-”
*BOOM!*
At this point, 99526 has no idea what’s happening around it, because the constantly “self-refreshing” colorful smoke hasn’t cleared up in a while. However, a small change comes in the form of a string of annoyed voices drawing closer.
“Hey, what are you-?!”
“Stop pushing!”
99526 opens its mouth again and something dry is gently slapped all over it.
“-PFRRBRBRBR!”
Next, someone plucks the sparklers out of its foreleg holes one by one.
Finally, the cloud has enough time to dissipate and 99526, now entirely covered by multicolored dust, can see and think again. Namely, it can see Gem holding a piece of cloth over its mouth as well as a wall of armed griffon guards glaring at it, and it can think, once again, that mistakes were made.
“Your Majesty, I’m really sorry, I-” it preventively broadcasts.
“You drew pretty much the entire resort guard regiment here without causing any real damage,” Chrysalis replies immediately in a distracted tone, “Congratulations, now leave me alone. I’ve got an alabaster ass to peg. Metaphorically this time.”
Uhh, I’m not in trouble?
99526 looks at the griffons advance towards it.
Maybe only a little bit.
“Umm, so I bought all these sparklies and I didn’t expect the bit of smoke that came out when I broke the tip off but the first few were okay and then it started itching and… I kinda make a lot of goop without trying, so-”
***
As Shining Armor and Cadance are making their rounds and are being congratulated by various creatures present in big part due to the “influence” of the Grand Duchess of Bloodstone, a rather visibly irritated Chrysalis meets up with 99 and 387 for a little post-match recap.
“Alright, so are his units just that much stronger than mine or what?!” she hisses at 387.
“I do have an answer,” the warrior returns a smug smirk, “but shouldn’t you be asking 99, since this game thing is more her area of ‘expertise’ than mine?”
Chrysalis turns her head, still leaning forward and looking down, although now at the infiltrator.
“Your assessment is correct, Your Majesty, the Equestri units are far stronger than those of the Empire of Ling,” 99 gulps when Chrysalis’ glare doesn’t relent, “That’s the point. They are much stronger but there are fewer of them.”
“But they can wipe out a group of mine! Who designed this shit?” she leans closer to 99.
“Chrysalis, the same strategic genius that led you to losing over half of your hive before even getting through Canterlot’s protective shield is showing. I know that throwing your superior numbers at an entrenched enemy is a time-tested changeling strategy, but you need to remember that those tests results usually came back negative,” 387 chuckles, marking himself as the fresh target, “I would assume you of all creatures would understand that the game isn’t about wiping out your opponent, it’s about objectives. In fact, on a wide map like the first one you were incredibly favored and you still managed to stuff it up by trying to fight all the time. I’m not saying you’ll win against a fairly good tactician that Shining Armor is if you play your faction correctly, but you’ll at least make him take you seriously.”
Chrysalis’ eye twitches.
“Your Majesty,” 99 peeps, “We need to make this game go to the full three matches to give the drones enough time. Maybe it doesn’t matter how the final game goes but you must win this one so… if I may say… take a deep breath and listen to 387.”
Both high ranks get the annoyed growl they expect from Chrysalis, but also the following intake of deep breath, a pause, and finally the Queen asking:
“Alright, smartass. The headache I’d get if we talked mentally for an hour with these damn suppressors on isn’t worth it. Brief me.”
“Step one - cannon fodder. Get Shining’s front line bogged down in melee but use just enough units to buy yourself time. They can’t disengage. Flank his ranged troops with your superior numbers of the most mobile warriors. The groups might still lose due to the sheer power of his units, but the point is to use the rest of your units to capture the objectives before he can and lock his units down so that he can’t contest them. The next map is a spider web of tunnels, so it will be much more difficult and favor him, but you screwed up the easy win for you, now your biggest remaining advantage is Shining underestimating you. And if you straight up can’t win, fight until the end and hope you last long enough.”
Without a word, Chrysalis turns away, returns to her chair at the round table being turned by some servants into the next map, sits down, and closes her eyes.
The distraction drones are doing a better job than I am. That won’t stand!
***
Blueblood is standing at the edge of the slightly sloping roof of the servants’ apartment complex, looking three floors down at the paved road. He knows he shouldn’t be here, the roof hatch in the back isn’t locked just to test the determination of airborne lockpickers. Still, even he can use teleportation across unprotected, very short distances. All the lights are concentrated on the promenade this late in the evening, and the road underneath is lit only by the occasional lamp mostly for ambiance. Just a step forward would release him. This far from Equestria, his ‘accident’ would give everyone some time to think of a story to tell his aunt which wouldn’t break her heart.
Just a step…
“Hi, BB!” a cheery voice with a hint of careful consideration from the back doesn’t even make Blueblood flinch.
“Hello, 65536,” he says back without turning around.
“Whatcha doing?”
“Thinking.”
“You know, that’s not always healthy. We, drones, know. Sometimes thinking gets you munched.”
“If I didn’t jump before I’m sure not going to jump now,” Blueblood sits down.
“Why didn’t you?” 65536 walks over and sits down next to him.
“It’s not high enough,” Blueblood shrugs nonchalantly, “I’d probably survive with all legs broken and then you’d have to haul me around in a cart like a nugget. I want to be less trouble, not more.”
“And now the real reason?” 65536 nudges Blueblood’s side with its head.
“Why are you so much smarter than you look or sound?” asks Blueblood, “Besides, where were you all this time?”
“You know what? If you answer my question I’ll answer yours,” 65536 happily beams at him when he looks sideways at it, “Two for one, right? You’re a tough negotiator. A true deal-maker. Diplomat beyond-”
“Oh shut it,” Blueblood rolls his eyes as 65536 doesn’t stop smiling. The drone’s happiness is contagious because, despite it being fully able to lie or at least spin things, its heart… something about it in general… it’s just clear that if it’s messing with you then it’s for your own good. Not for its own sense of what is good and right, just like everypony else, but generally accepted, common definition of good. And that’s why he answers, “I didn’t jump because… I couldn’t find a reason to. No reason to go back and start doing something, anything, but also no reason to take the step. Before, I thought I didn’t want to be a drain anymore, but without my titles and the maintenance cost of the property, the meager stipend I get to just survive is no burden to the crown nor my aunt. I am no one, I don’t think I’m afraid to just jump, everything is behind me, and nothing I do right now matters. There’s freedom in that realization. I can jump whenever, so why not try some stuff out and see where my tipping point really is? Is it when I run out of money? Is it when I decide that there’s really nothing I can get interested in? Is it when it finally hits me that I can’t tap some muscular zebra booties whenever I want? Life needs to be about living, not just… existing for another empty day,” Blueblood chuckles and pats 65536’s head, “Thanks. Gem’s way of helping would be trying to keep me stuffed full of homemade pills until I came to this realization or my brain melted. I think you just being you is the better kind of therapy.”
“Didn’t I just tell you that thinking too much isn’t healthy?” 65536 pokes him.
“We can’t all be perfect like you drones,” Blueblood shrugs, “Now stop trying to wriggle out of your answers.”
“I was not!” 65536 gasps indignantly and puffs out its cheeks at the unicorn briefly before giggling and losing all seriousness again, “Jokes aside, I promised to answer, so here goes. I’m not sure how a drone would even look smart, maybe a top hat and glasses? I guess because I don’t try to look smart then it must be easy to be smarter than not smart at all. Makes sense?”
“The worst part is that it does,” Blueblood sighs.
“Oookay? Well, that part about being smarter than I sound… it took me some time to realize that because we, drones, never really talk back home, I mean in the hive-”
“You don’t talk at all?” Blueblood tilts its head.
“No, that’s not… uhh, we talk but we don’t speak like you do. Or at least we didn’t until recently when 387 told the guys to talk out loud when not in a hurry just to practice. But that’s not all, we don’t even talk completely with sounds. This is really difficult to explain, sorry. It took me years to figure out why ponies looked at me weird sometimes and that was after Miss Fury transferred her language knowledge to me and with Luna around to practice with.”
“Take your time. I’m not in a hurry.”
“What we think we say out loud isn’t always all we mean to say or in a way we mean to say it. We buzz a bit, we send out some information through our hive links, we convey some things through body language -you ponies do that part too, so that’s okay. We just do it differently- and only a part is through words. Am I making sense or am I babbling?”
“Honestly, considering your species, what you said was entirely understandable. It’s all about practice then?”
“Pretty much,” 65536 nods, “It helps if other changelings are in hive link range, even if they don’t have the knowledge you’re looking for- why are you laughing?” the drone doesn’t take offense but is visibly puzzled.
“Nothing, nothing,” Blueblood stops chuckling, “I just thought about how court ponies are exactly the opposite - the more of them there are together, the dumber they get,” he shakes his head, “What about my final question? As far as this trip goes, you or Gem have always been without pouncing distance in case I picked up something dangerous and… you know.”
“I’m not allowed to tell you because it’s a secret.”
“You said you’d answer.”
“I just did.”
Faced with the completely honest expression of the drone, Blueblood concludes that he, in actuality, doesn’t care at all about the answer, and he stands up.
“Can I ask you a favor?”
“Sure,” 65536 nods.
“In light of my fresh… outlook, I figured out one thing I want to do, but I must do it alone. Me… as myself.”
“Promise to think more like a drone if the bad ideas come back?”
“It could be a step up from thinking like myself,” Blueblood smirks and heads off towards the locked roof hatch, “I might give it a shot.”
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Its a good thing Blueblood didnt try hiding away in a nice dark closed box, or the next, and last words he mightve heard were.
DARK IN HERE ISNT IT.
Looks like Moxxie isn't the only one who's into pegging
11511374
Terry would be proud.
This plan is so stupid it is, in fact, pure genius on the part of the drones. Drone LogicTM at it's finest, though!
Daaaang, I kinda wish you'd made that your opening line of the chapter now.
I can't wait to see the reactions of Chrysalis and the other High Ranks to that.
In fairness, Chryssi still did better than I would've expected, and hey, twenty-three points is still twenty-three more points than zero, or really anything less than twenty-three, which I'm sure was still the less desired outcome she would've wanted.
See, that was your first mistake, griffons. When it wants to, Drone LogicTM easily trumps both of those particular details.
Besides, the drones are always smarter than they get credit for. Just because they're...we'll say less educated...doesn't mean they can't still be dastardly crafty or clever when the situation calls for it.
And that's your second mistake, assuming that Chrysalis's mighty ego overpowers her sense of tact and being diplomatic--she's absolutely capable of doing both, boys.
Well, enough to try and NOT make an unwanted scene she knows full well would only put her in more trouble at least.
Agreed! Not that there isn't sometimes a time and place for Gem's method (with the proper professional care and supervision to avoid any actual brain melting, of course), this just wasn't one of them.
That's weirdly flattering of him to say, and I'm not necessarily referring to the drones in this case.
11511374
The real question is - was Void modern enough to have a combine harvester or did he still use a scythe too?
11511527
- One day, drones will create an amazing device for magnification of small objects, and they will call it the Huggle telescope. Even through that telescope it will be impossible to see the amount of consent Shining had for anything Bugbutt did to his butt before Twiggle Wiggle saved the wedding.
- Also, big booty Moxxie being consensually and lovingly entirely obliterated by Millie's varied selection is of oversized strapons on a regular basis is what one would call "relationship goals".
11512035
- Never underestimate a "too dumb to work" plan.
- It was supposed to be, it was at one point, but eventually I decided that I needed it elsewhere because I wanted these chapters to be longer and a bit meatier instead of splitting them into 1k-word pieces.
- A good reason for Chrysalis to start hanging out with the drones more regularly as 387 wanted. (I'll see myself out and jump under a train now)
- She had copied the rules from 99's head and in her long life she's had tactical challenges, but 387 summarized her experience correctly. Bugbutt would need 20100 and its dice roll superpowers. Come to think of it, that little guy sure did win the genetic lottery.
- They sure can't spell intelligent or malevolent, but they definitely can move in a straight line in a world of curves.
- Eeeh, this is a bit fifty-fifty but it seems that Bugbutt is learning to tame herself a bit.
- It's such a complicated topic (that I wrote a damn series metaphorically depicting the unwinnable battle) and I realized when I re-read this after myself that I'm closing the book on this mini sub-plot in a sudden, deus ex machina way. Oh well, another notch on the shitty writer belt.
- I don't get it.
Seriously, how do you manage to write Chrysalis so damn well, she always has a quip that makes me burst out laughing
11536527
Both Bugbutt and the drones have their priorities straight. And I don't know if I'm particularly funny, but I think that Bugbutt is so bitter she turns back into being likable.
I'd be surprised, but since cadence is the princess of love, it makes sense.