Day 9 - The Wobbly-leg Frogger: 3/9
“Are you okay, 99380?”
To the surprise of anyone initiated into the nature of changelings, 99380’s usually easily accessible and clear hive link feels significantly muted. The drone itself, however, seems to be having the time of its life attempting to eat a lollipop which originally had to be the size of a grown draft stallion’s hoof despite a patch of grass, some sand, and a bit of dirt sticking to it.
“MMHMMHMHM!” 99380 turns to approaching 10013 and immediately jumps to hug it, narrowly avoiding poking its eye out with the lollipop stick, “MMHM?!”
Only now does the drone realize that its mouth is glued shut, and its hive link lights up to its full power again.
“I’M SO GLAD YOU’RE BACK! I fired a boomstick and I rode a boat and I went REALLY FAST when 99111 showed me how and I bought this huuuge nom that’s so good even after I dropped it- wait, not important right now. How did your big thing go? What’s that around your neck?”
“I think we found the entrance,” replies 10013 mentally, “36658 went to tell 10101 while I was following your link. I need to contact everyone. Well, not 65536 anymore because it said it had its own thing to take care of.”
“I’m absolutely ready for it!” 99380 attempts in vain to pull the lollipop out of its mouth again, fails, salutes instead and glues its foreleg to its forehead. Thankfully, at least that comes off with some effort. A moment later, the mental presence of all hive drones strengthens.
“Good news, everydroney! We found the talking rock. 36658 is grabbing 10101-”
“Done, explained, ready!” replies 36658, “10101 confirmed that what we found should be the entrance, or at least it should be very close to it.”
“Perfect. Does anyone need to swap out? I’ll share the map with you so anyone can go.”
“Sorry, can’t!” replies 20100, “A big griffon lady made me draw a picture in return for bringing two hundred griffons to the Queen’s game. By the way, if anyone needs some shinies then just come over. My leggos are heavy from all the shiny rocks and I’m getting tired.”
“I think you should go again, 10013,” says 36658, “I know that if there’s someone able to distinguish between us it would be better if you swapped too, but if there’s a drone who must recognize if something you see down there would be useful for us as a whole then it’s you.”
“Ummm, can I go? Pleeeease?” 99111 chimes in, “10101 might be able to explain what we see based on the blueprints it’s been drawing for us. Plus I really, really want to see some inventions and anything that could help us too. Please?”
“36658? I think it would be better if you came too, since the natives weren’t exactly friendly and you can at least fight a bit. Better than I can and definitely better than 99111,” comments 10013.
“I did nothing, and we’re not allowed to harm anyone anyway. 65536 is the only one who doesn’t panic and can disable a baddie without hurting them too badly. It’s fine, let 99111 come with you, as long as it promises not to get carried away and to shut up and obey no matter what. Plus, you said it yourself - I’m the more recognizable drone so I should be seen around throughout the evening.”
“I CAN TOTALLY DO THAT!” 99111 replies immediately.
“Gotcha! 99111, meet me at the bridge crossing the ravine to the northwest as soon as you can,” 10013 pings a hive mind map location, “36658, can you lead 10101 there? I don’t think it’s very sneaky and it might need some guidance. We might also need you to create a distraction in case someone is following us as we leave,” a thought crosses its mind, “And put your vine hanger neck thingy on 99111. Maybe if the hippogriffs see us again and know we’re the familiar guys they’ll be friendlier.”
“Will do.”
“I think you’ll be fine. Just go as quickly as you can!” 99526 speaks out for the first time, “I kinda did the distracting thing a bit too much and now there are one... two… thirteen armed griffons around me making sure I don’t sneeze again. The leader guy too, and I think he’s trying to start a band. He keeps asking about tenorists- 99380, do you know any tunes we could sing to and test it?”
“There are a few griffons playing near the Queen’s game. We can ask them,” replies 99380.
“99526, I’ll be right there. I can make it before 10101-”
“No no no,” 99526 immediately stops 10013, “You gotta do the big thing, and the griffons aren’t exactly mean, they’re just loud. And if they bring more, that’s even better for you.”
10013 grits its teeth. A drone might be in need of help, the high ranks are too busy to solve it, but there is a greater goal on the horizon.
“A leader’s purpose isn’t to micromanage and to solve problems for everyone, it is to give everyone enough space and support so that they can each do their part.”
10013 freezes. The unidentifiable voice just came through a hive link, but no one else reacts. Did anyone else even hear it?
Back in the real world, 99380 pokes 10013 with the lollipop stick. When 10013 blinks and shakes its head, 10013 points its foreleg northeast with a “Mmmhm!”
10013 takes a deep breath, pats 99380’s head, and rushes off.
***
20100 is sitting on a bench with a satisfied smile, watching the crowd and listening to the play-by-play of the freshly started second match. “The picture” is finished, displayed on the easel next to the bench, and that Clara lady ran off to inform the Grand Duchess. So far, 20100 hasn’t taken any more painting requests due to it feeling its love reserves diminish and its persistent headache caused by the incessant chatter of the crowd as well as its concentration on drawing in a way it’s never drawn before.
Maybe I should use one of my points for a refill? Probably not. The high ranks are super busy right now.
It yawns and closes its eyes.
Something touches its shoulder.
“Wazzawho-notsleepytimeyet!” it blurts out, blinking and quickly looking around.
The Grand Duchess is examining the painting side by side with a faded blonde, dark grey, bespectacled earth pony stallion while Clara was the one to wake it up. The Duchess and the earth pony trade muffled remarks, the earth pony nods, and points to several places of the painting one by one.
“Hey, changeling,” Clara leans close and whispers loudly enough to be barely audible over the ambient noise, “Thanks for not ratting me out. The good time offer still stands if you’re interested,” she winks and nods sideways towards the painting, “but the Duchess would like a word with you right now.”
20100 isn’t sure what rats she’s talking about but catches on to the last part and stands up on the bench to be at least eyes-to-neck with the Duchess and the stallion who now seems to be talking non-stop, at least until the Duchess raises a talon, shutting him up.
“Changeling,” the Duchess looks down at 20100, “Not only have you fulfilled your end of the bargain, you have successfully managed to impress Trestle here,” she glances at the earth pony, “I believe our business is finished to the satisfaction of us both then?”
“Uhh, yup,” 20100 nods, “The griffons you sent here will stay until the end of the match, right? I kinda need that,” it looks up at her with uncertainty.
“Of course. That was the deal,” the Duchess nods, snaps her talons, and one of the griffons accompanying her carefully takes the canvas off, “And because you seem to be doing a service to the stained, to say the least, reputation of your kind I feel gracious and I present you with the opportunity to discuss your art with a name renowned in the right circles.”
20100 is entirely lost in the overly polite “court speak”, so it just carefully replies with a smile:
“You are very gratuitous, Miss Duchess.”
“Gracious,” Clara corrects it.
“Grey shoes,” 20100 repeats with a brief glance to the griffoness’ legs.
The Duchess narrows her eyes but, like many confused others before her, can’t read anything but pure honesty and some uncertainty regarding its current situation from the drone’s face. In the end, she decides to let it go and just says:
“We’re leaving.”
Her servants clear a path for her and she vanishes into the crowd on the promenade, leaving 20100 with her two companions.
“Oof, I guess I should get back to work then,” 20100 stretches its forelegs.
“Wait a moment!” Clara leans to its ear and whispers, “Find me tomorrow in the Bloodstone delegation’s bungalow and I’ll rock your world.”
She rushes off immediately after.
“Hey, hey, hey hey hey! The changeling is done painting!” someone calls out, and 20100 finds itself surrounded by griffons as Trestle gets pushed backwards through the crowd, yelling:
“TOMORROW! PAINTING! ROOM 218!”
“Suuuure!” 20100 calls back, waving over the pushing and shouting.
“Changeling-”
“-interested in one of your-”
“-paintings-”
“-choose your reward-”
I’m gonna need a lot of sleepy time after this.
***
Unlike when the drones were escorting 10101 to the resort, the jungle trip quickly clears up that 10101 isn’t made for speed. On top of that, the same goes for 99111 and even 10013 is pretty tired from running this route for the third time. Despite that, the group makes a good time now that they know exactly where to go, and without having to search the undergrowth again they reach the altar site in only a little longer than the first time. Unfortunately, the natives have audibly resumed their singing, dancing, and chanting, and without 65536 there’s only one idea that comes to 10013’s mind as the trio watches the proceedings unnoticed from a bush.
“99111, you come with me,” and in a whisper it adds, “10101, stay here.”
The robot nods, and 10013 enters the clearing. It’s critical that it chooses its words carefully, and-
Think, brain. Think, brain!
“CATBIRD PONIES!” 99111 rushes forward, the noose swinging around its neck.
Think-
“Braaaaaain!” 10013 rushes after 99111.
The elderly shaman’s eyes bulge, the singing stops instantly, and then one of the hippogriff warriors screeches a word in a high pitch unbecoming of someone of his size and muscularity.
“Oh crap-” says the shaman.
“I KNEW YOU GUYS HAD TO SPEAK NORMAL!” 10013 points its foreleg accusingly at him and charges ahead.
“Don’t run!” yells 99111, reaching for the tail of a late-escaping hippogriff who was frozen in terror, and only makes things worse.
However, the moment of true horror comes when 99111 flies up into the air. The screams and shrieking as the hippogriffs realize that the air isn’t safe follow everyone shooting away as fast as they can. The shaman drops his spear and flies off for the second time today. Moments later, the jungle falls deathly silent, and 10101 walks out of its hiding place behind a tree, approaching the stone altar.
“Unexpected,” it comments, “Although it seems that they do remember what changelings are.”
99111 joins 10013 who points at a place on the altar where it saw the slot earlier, and 10101 puts its hoof to it. A ray of light appears, runs from left to right seemingly “behind” the slot, and the entire altar splits in half, one side moving to the left and one to the right, revealing a staircase as wide as the altar itself. Unlike at the service entrance tunnel, at least some wall lights are still working, not that it matters for anyone present.
“Lead the way 10101,” says 10013 while 99111 is staring into the tunnel with just the widest smile, eyes darting from the smooth walls, over the stairs covered in some kind of raised grid pattern, to the bright light deeper underground.
They descend only a few steps before 10101 turns around, touches a panel on the side of the tunnel, and the split altar reassembles itself above them as if nothing ever happened to it. Unlike with the service tunnel, the stairs in this one are fairly short before the floor turns into stone covered by a raised criss-cross pattern of ridges. Their descent stops immediately after at the one unbroken light and a heavy metal door which the drones would consider a wall had they not seen it before at the end of the service tunnel. This must lead to the complex itself.
“Is everything okay, 10101?” asks 10013, “Do we need to be quiet, or…?”
10101 stops by a panel next to the door and puts its hoof to it again. The panel beeps and the door opens. The robot peeks inside and enters a large room with two exits on the left and right walls each and one across the room from them. It’s deathly quiet and, at least to the drones, it smells of nothing other than dust in the air.
“Everything looks in order and we haven’t triggered any alarms,” says 10101, “I think we’re free to proceed safely. The Reforger laboratory isn’t far. Feel free to look around, just don’t touch anything without asking me first.”
“Eee hee hee!” 99111 squee’s happily before rushing off towards the nearest wall light, “Can you tell me how to make shinies like this one later? I mean, we don’t need them but they’re pretty.”
“The circuitry is beyond the technological level of even today’s griffons, so no,” replies 10101 calmly.
“But the griffons have shinies. Same with ponies,” 99111 moves along the wall as 10013 and 10101 steadily cross the room.
“These lights require dramatically less energy and last much longer. Pony lights usually use magic, bioluminescent objects, or flammable materials.”
“I wonder,” 10013 interjects as 99111 takes a breath to immediately ask about something else, “Would it be easier if you pointed out things we could use back home, namely things that you could explain to us?”
“That’s what I was doing with 99380, but now that we’re here I think I can explain certain aspects of building underground facilities to you.”
“Such as?” asks 99111, rejoining them as they leave the room and enter a long hallway with broken glass windows on the sides showing dark rooms full of entirely unidentifiable objects.
“The pattern of ridges on the floor, for example, serves to prevent slipping on otherwise very smooth surfaces such as polished rocks. It also makes it easier to move using tyres or specific types of treads- for you it would be cartwheels.”
“You’re right,” 10013 nods, “Slipping is pretty dangerous if we’re fleeing from monsters, although we don’t polish the floors too much outside of the core tunnels we use all the time.”
“Believe it or not, we are- were likely used to facing similar underground threats as you, although we only retreated to briefly regroup before clearing up any hostile areas. Look up,” says 10101 and both drones look at the ceiling which is slightly narrower than the floor, “The walls slope towards the center so that no swarming creatures can climb the walls easily.”
“Oookay, THAT is useful!” 10013 shuffles over to the wall, “Makes me wonder if the Queen would mind if we spent some time polishing the walls and making the more used tunnels all slanty like this.”
“There are numerous significant design decisions which aren’t apparent on the first glance,” says 10101, pointing at a door frame, one of many in the long hallway which are seemingly without doors, “The door reinforced frames are critical in case of instability, such as an earthquake. On top of that, they are load-bearing for the complex and in case of a breach they can be detonated and cut off entire sections of the laboratories.”
“I’m not sure how we could use this. We kinda just dig tunnels to where the Queen wants us to and where we feel the ceiling won’t crumble,” says 10013.
“There is fairly complex material research math involved, but even an educated guess can help you dig direct tunnels through softer materials which would otherwise collapse immediately using proper reinforcement instead of taking long detours.”
“Ohhhh,” 10013 measures the distance between the visible frames, “We could make the hive a lot more compact.”
“Next up-”
They walk, more and more building elements being revealed by 10101. From the locations and sizes of air vents and how to dig them effectively without advanced tools, to methods of draining moisture from tunnels and new dig sites. 10013 listens to everything, its mind working overtime on ways to use the presented knowledge. Of course, everything depends on whether the Queen would consider the spent time worth it over losing easily replaceable new drones.
99111 is clearly more interested in gadgets and any “device” or a “thingy” it can see, but the strange voice in 10013’s head returns once more with an advice which 10013 agrees with entirely.
“Get the basics right and the rest will follow.”
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I am absolutely in love with your unique take on on changelings. They might not amount to much, but they are certainly enough to fill a heart
Huh. Well, that's interesting.
Yeah, still not properly equipped for that, though...
STILL NOT EQUIPPE--oh forget it, she's gone. Well, that should just go swimmingly then.
This promises to be intresting, not only cash but resources from the needy artistic rich, to thousands of years of rapidly advancing construction engineering reverse analysed to shortcut centuraries of evolutionary search and disaster?
At the rate theyre picking up a wide range of knowldge, the Changelings wont need the device in orser to reach its equivalent before Applebloom dies of old age.
Im wondering who the voice is.
11517203
I've elevated nothing happening but in an adventurous way into art. This truly is the Seinfeld of changelings.
11517350
- It would be a reeeeeeal backstab if I didn't answer it.
- A drone that doesn't know what "the good time" is vs. a female xenophile pedophile griffon noble. My bet's on the drone. By the way, it's not that the drones are entirely unaware of the mechanics of the situation, they just don't know in what way it would involve them other than dragging an egg-filled victim somewhere safe after a high rank is done with them. What I'm trying to say is that with some patience, shapeshifting, and accurate descriptions something could happen. Hell, Three and Eight made out (or more, I can't recall).
- That was supposed to be the painter calling.
11517378
You overestimate the drones. Just a little bit.
11518006
- Ever heard of Chekhov's gun? I'm rolling in with Chekhov's sniper rifle, because it'll be loooong before an answer.
media.discordapp.net/attachments/934183003129798726/1104132851236089897/image0.gif
Slowly catching up, awesome so far.
11650269
Take your time. It's not going anywhere,