Day 9 - The Wobbly-leg Frogger: 4/9
Walking out of the shower, Blueblood’s nose wrinkles.
“This place reeks. How does the changeling deal with it without even making a face?” he grumbles and walks over to the glass pane door to the balcony and slides both sides open to let in the warm, fresh air of the island.
He did ponder going through with his idea immediately, but seeing his emaciated face and matted fur in a window he was passing by made him reconsider. He wanted to look like a pony, not a victim, because he sure as hay wasn’t one.
Now, after making himself presentable on a basic level, he takes a final look into the mirror hanging next to the door. Sunken eyes, some mane having fallen out, still with the starved look, but at least without the smell, sweat, and grime.
It’s important that it doesn’t seem as if he’s looking for pity.
His horn lights up to telekinetically open the door, but he decides against it at the last moment and walks onto the balcony.
“May as well figure out what’s my own real worth in this aspect as well,” he chuckles darkly, looking down. It’s the first floor, so even if he jumped he’d likely only end up bruised.
He concentrates, grits his teeth as the pull of magic suddenly feels as if something was ripping out the nerves all over his body, showing him how exhausted and unhealthy he really is, and vanishes with a ‘pop’.
The difficulty and energy requirements of teleportation scale not with anything being in the way, but with distance, and the difference between teleporting behind an unprotected door and several pony lengths down is staggering. He appears a pony length above the pavement and unceremoniously drops down, his weak legs folding under him. Gasping for air and sweating again, he stands up… eventually.
“That could have gone better,” he mutters, happy that no one’s there to see him and laugh or worse - try to help, “But an answer is an answer.”
Looking around, it seems that the weird light show on the main crossroad of the promenade is still going on. Perhaps that’s where he should look first? Without any better idea, he starts limping forward. Every step hurts, but nothing feels broken despite his clumsy fall.
“I’m in no position to fix anything, but there might be one thing I can make a little better.”
***
“There’s a table full of thingies!” whines 99111 with a pleading stare aimed at 10101 who doesn’t seem capable of facial expressions. The table it’s referring to is standing by a shattered window, one of many in the facility complex, and it’s littered with what the drones can only describe as ‘mostly tubes’.
“You don’t have the energy sources to power any of those, much less anything else you can see,” says 10101 patiently, clearly unbothered by 99111 repeating the same song and dance over and over for the past fifteen minutes, “I understand you’re looking for tools to improve your survival rates, but if I were you I’d take a lesson from 10013. Its questions lead in the useful direction.”
“I… but I… I… I just like making a useful thingy that does something out of thingies that don’t…” 99111 looks from 10013 to 99111, “Making a tunnel a bit easier to move through or more difficult to collapse is great, but in the end if we uncover a cavern full of melty spitters we’ll still get… melted. There has to be a thingy here that could help us not get killed in one of many nasty ways.”
“There are many, but nothing that would work for long outside of the facility,” replies 10101, leading the way.
They’ve already descended two levels from the main entrance and they’re still going deeper. 10013, however, mapping the place all this time, ponders that the floor plan looks like an inverted pyramid.
“...disappointed drone noises…” mumbles 99111 with a sigh.
“10101,” 10013 speaks out, “You clearly know we, drones, have no technology back home, and I get your rule about not letting strange devices out of here, but… could you teach us things that would help us get on the level of ponies or griffons? Don’t take it the wrong way, I’m grateful for all the building and tunneling tips, I’m just trying to use this opportunity and bring home as much as I can.”
“That’s what we were doing earlier. My long-term advice, however, would be to focus your research on biotechnology specific to your resin, about which I know very little. Anything you’ll need to build even something as simple as a short-distance radio requires an incredible amount of generational knowledge from mining to refining metals, glass-blowing, advanced mathematics. Even I don’t have the information required for the entire process, because for me it is more the knowledge of ancient history rather than the construction of currently used electronics. And the pertinent detailed information isn’t something I considered useful to transfer into the limited memory capacity of this maintenance unit.”
“I guess being greedy won’t help anything,” 10013 shakes its head, “I understand what 99111 is trying to do, though. Is there a way to protect ourselves directly from leggy spinners? Armor like ponies use or something that doesn’t need all this super difficult technology to make?”
“Metal or leather working is the basis of everything,” says 10101 as they descend down another set of stairs, “Potentially woodworking if all you require are simple wooden shields. It would be useful if you could describe a scenario and I could try to solve it without using active tech.”
“99111?” 10013 decides to give 99111 a chance to voice what bothers it, “You said your main concern is with helping us survive. How about you think of a situation that 10101 could help us solve? My head hurts already from trying to remember all the building tips.”
“M-Me? I-” 99111 freezes and almost trips over its own legs on the stairs before smiling and saying, “So… uhh, let’s say a drone digs through a wall into a cavern and wakes up a swarm of flappy biters. We normally just run.”
“Describe the creatures.”
“Uhh, I don’t think I’ve ever stopped to look. They’re just a screeching, spooky mass…” 99111’s voice trails off, “Sorry.”
10013 replies instead.
“Each is bigger than our head, has wings, and two sharp fangs. They can’t easily pierce our chitin but they can take an eye out, and healing eyes is super difficult.”
“This sounds like some species of a bat,” says 10101, “The deeper those live, the more effective powerful light sources are. Lanterns, flashlights, or flares are the easiest way to make them flee immediately. High-frequency sounds can disrupt their echolocation as well so these are the non-lethal options. If your eyes are a problem, I think a good solution would be using protective goggles, either from glass, plastic, or even a version of your resin which is particularly sturdy and possible to fashion into a thin, see-through sheet.”
10013 and 99111 exchange looks.
“Oh…” they both say as one as if this never occurred to them… which it didn’t. For a brief second, a skeptical thought crosses 10013’s mind.
Even if we return home with all this knowledge, will there ever be any of us able to use it?
“Maybe, maybe not. If you give up then definitely not.”
10013 has to admit that the voice is right. It still tries to reply, though:
“Who are you, voice?”
Nothing. The message reaches no hive link, not that 10013 was expecting anything else.
“Got another scenario for us, 99111?” it asks, “Or should I think of one now?”
“Well, you’re older, right? That means you’ve seen more bad stuff and know what happens more often,” says 99111, “I’m just trying to say… that I can’t think of anything on the spot like that. I will, uhh, soon!”
“Don’t worry about that,” 10013 smiles, “Alright, 10101. Let’s say that there’s a tunnel that leads through a wriggly grinder tunnel -I’ll describe those in a moment- and you gotta walk through belly-high water to pass…”
The descent continues with a new direction in the conversation, one that might over time save hundreds. On one hole, it’s uplifting because many situations previously thought deadly get solved with only a few words from 10101. On the other hole, 10013 can’t help feeling a little down at how easy the solutions seem when explicitly stated and that no drone came up with them already.
“Maybe they did but never had the chance to speak up and share the knowledge. Maybe the hive mind used to be full of final screams, tidbits of information, anything a drone in its last moments wanted to leave behind. It’s all gone now and the hive mind is silent, but thanks to you it might not last forever.”
10013 hisses as pain spikes seemingly behind its eyes before fading and remaining as dull throbbing.
“Are you okay?” 99111 notices and immediately stops mid-word during its description of yet another scenario.
“Yeah,” 10013 smiles back, “Just a bit low on love. Today’s been pretty long.”
“We’re almost there,” says 10101, “The Reforger laboratory is on the level directly below us.”
Several minutes and one final staircase later, they reach yet another closed doorway which 10101 opens with a touch of a hoof. It opens into a circular room separated into a hallway encircling it like a ring, full of glass from the shattered windows covering the top half of its entire inner side. In the center of the room floats a staff-like device as tall as a standing pony which 10013 recognizes from 10101’s light projection.
“Don’t enter the testing area through the holes,” 10101 warns the drones as 10013 takes a step directly forward, “We need to identify ourselves and enter through the door even here,” it leads the drones along the circular hallway and to a door.
“You said this was a testing area,” comments 99111, waving its foreleg towards all the shattered windows, “Did a test go wrong?”
10101 shakes its head, letting them into the testing area itself.
“The windows were made to protect from energy radiation, not to become secondary load bearing supports in case the infrastructure of the facility failed. This happened due to the post-Project neglect of this facility and the volcanic activity six hundred years ago, not due to the Reforger.”
As 10013 walks over to the pedestal over which the Reforger hangs vertically mid-air without any support, it hears slight humming coming from the device. Up close, it looks like a sturdy metal staff covered in carvings and runes up until its halfway point where it seems as if someone put a triangular prism along the rest of it. Leaning closer, 10013 can see that the vertical triangular prism, in fact, is made of three free-floating, rectangular objects connected to the staff with a red shimmer. The drone can’t help noticing that the air around the Reforger is noticeably colder than anywhere else.
“Can we really take it?” asks 10013 with a glance at 10101.
“In a moment,” 10101 nods, its chest open and a thin, mechanical limb connected to a console on the wall, “Under the Emergency Restoration Act, I have the highest clearance with the exception of the site’s Forgemaster. With the Forgemaster gone, there is no one to dispute the required access review process,” 10101 adds, “Normally, it would take a few days but I’ve now reconnected this part of the facility to my main core, and all I need to do is tamper with the system time. Done, the access review process is finished,” 10101 disconnects, “You can take the Reforger.”
Hesitant about losing access to all the information that 10101 can bring, 99111 still has to ask:
“Don’t you want to stay here and fix things? We could help… maybe,” it glances towards 10013.
“We made a deal and deals must be honored,” 10101 shakes its head, “Failing to do so reflects badly on our kind as a whole, and you don’t want to end up in the Book of Grudges, whether you’re one of us or anyone else.”
“Sounds spooky,” 99111 tilts its head.
“It is,” 10101 nods.
*Click!*
They both look at 10013 who just carefully took the Reforger down, causing the floating pieces to snap towards the staff and click together. The humming quietens down as well and, unlike before, the staff feels entirely lifeless.
“Are we done here?” asks 10013.
“Yes. Let’s leave,” 10101 nods.
***
Blueblood isn’t surprised when a zebra bodyguard appears next to him, almost as if materializing out of nowhere or simply being effortlessly squeezed out of the surrounding crowd.
“Well well well, here’s a name that wasn’t on the list of passengers,” Zeri tone is hard as steel, and her smaller size does nothing to put the ex-Prince at ease.
“There’s a reason for that. May I speak to Baron 1313 and Zamira?”
“That’s Baroness Zamira to you,” replies Zeri, “And I’m pretty sure I heard something about a restraining order.”
“You heard wrong,” replies Blueblood, immediately regretting being blunt as Zeri’s already irritated frown turns into an openly hostile scowl, “That’s what I’m here to clear up, actually.”
“You know… in a crowd like this it would be fairly easy to get trampled in case of sudden panic,” she steps on his foreleg, making sparks fly behind his eyelids and his legs almost buckle. It’s not really about her using too much strength or being heavy, it’s all in Blueblood’s currently pathetic physical shape.
She steps back and, when Blueblood’s vision clears, he sees it’s only because 1313 is standing next to her, lowering his foreleg after tapping on her shoulder.
“Prince Blueblood,” he says in a controlled tone, “I would like an explanation regarding why you’ve been following my wife for the past five minutes. I would also like to hear it somewhere more private in case I don’t like the answer and feel the need to kick something that isn’t a bystander.”
Blueblood lets out a sigh and nods.
I doubt he’ll just beat the shit out of me, although that depends on how much he’s heard about my status after he left Canterlot.
He follows 1313 and Zemi a little further away onto the beach where, unfortunately, the only punchable object is him. He also can’t help being painfully aware of three more zebras approaching shortly after. Soon, he’s standing face to face with Zamira and 1313 while Zara, Zaida, and Zemi are behind him and by his sides.
“My question still stands,” is all 1313 states while giving Blueblood a stern glare which the unicorn realizes he can’t face without tearing up.
“I came to apologize,” he looks down at the sand under his hooves. It’s not about dignity, it’s about being able to at least push the message out of himself. Unfortunately…
“Apology not bucking accepted!” Zamira barks at him.
Blueblood looks around and the only face which can even remotely be considered sympathetic is, probably not entirely shockingly, 1313. It’s clear that all zebras surrounding him would prefer either not seeing him at all or his head on a spike. The looks of… not just hatred but pure disgust speak volumes about what he did to them being beyond fixing. Even if he still had his status, influence, and resources, and even if he decided to use all of it to help each of the zebras and 1313 to achieve their dreams… they would still prefer getting nothing if it meant never seeing him again.
“I understand,” he breathes out.
“Did you think that a few words would-” Zamira’s coming outburst is interrupted by Blueblood shaking his head and his quiet:
“No,” he breathes in and out before attempting to look 1313 and Zamira face to face and failing miserably again, “I just wanted to tell you you don’t need to worry,” he looks around at the bodyguards, “I’m not spinning plans for revenge. I’m not hiring anyone to hurt you in any way. My family isn’t going after you. None of you - not you, Baron and Baroness, and not your bodyguards,” he draws a shaky breath, “I lost everything and I deserved it, but there’s still one thing I can give you and that’s peace of mind. Nothing that happened between me and any of you will come back to haunt you. You don’t need to keep watching your back in case of an assassin or a political plot. That’s all I wanted to tell you. I’m sorry. I wish I could say I was a better pony, but I’m not. I know I wouldn’t be apologizing now if I wasn’t stopped in such a complete way,” he tries to look up and keep his eyes on the duo for the third time, “That’s all. I’m sorry, and I commend you for protecting me all those years despite… everything.”
“I don’t believe you,” Zamira snarls, “You’re just setting us up to-”
“He’s telling the truth,” says 1313 calmly. The zebras know 1313 well enough by now to not dispute the assessment of a changeling infiltrator, “I would like to know what changed your mind, though.”
Blueblood thinks for a moment as the pieces fall into place.
“Your changeling drones did, in general. 65536 in particular,” he tries to put the mixed feelings into words, “I spent all my life around nobility. With very few exceptional ponies whom everypony has grown to consider stupid, nopony ever talked to anypony else without an ulterior motive, an expectation, or an attempt to use them. I thought that was the only way the world worked, that the whole world was rotten to the core and the only way to live was to use my power to gain what enjoyment I could before somepony more influential forced me to do their bidding. Your drones… are genuine to the point where it harms their own goals, but… but they still live without being immediately taken advantage of. Somehow, they bring out the good in others. We’re in a griffon resort and nopony is throwing rocks at them. One is even being paid for painting,” Blueblood shakes his head, “My view of the world is making no sense around them… and it’s better that way.”
1313 looks at his wife and the bodyguards one by one and sees nothing but hatred. He understands. They can’t sense what he can, and they’ve been hurt more than he was. Well, maybe the last part is debatable, but at least they’ve been hurt for longer.
“Zamira, everyone?” he speaks up despite knowing what the answer will be, “This is your choice, not mine.”
“...get the buck as far away from us as possible…” is all Zamira whispers.
Blueblood turns around and simply leaves. 1313 watches him until he blends with the crowd on the promenade, searching for any muscle movement, any sign of easing up, anything inconsistency that would tell him Blueblood wasn’t sincere.
He finds nothing.
Zamira’s legs are shaking and, as she looks at Zemi, Zara, and Zaida, it’s clear to her that she’s not alone. Day after day over the past two years they’ve watched every shadow, expecting revenge despite hearing things about Blueblood’s fall from grace but never digging into it to find anything concrete in case their questions would draw the attention of him or his family and friends.
No more? Is the nightmare really finally over?
***
It’s close to midnight, and Chrysalis finds herself on the veranda of the bungalow yet again, this time with some kind of a lemon drink inside a coconut so alcoholic that it could probably strip paint and it was a small miracle that the straw hasn’t melted already. She didn’t transform her insides so that she could get drunk, a little bit because of the paladin suppressor, but mainly because she needed to think and liked the taste of the cocktail anyway. 99 and 387 are away, helping to clear the promenade, specifically the mobile bleachers, the podium, and other props related to the game. Not the trash, though. They’re the hive delegation, not some cleaners.
She takes a long sip that would likely knock out an earth pony.
The second game…
She listened to 387’s analysis. She consulted what her approach should be. She was ready to focus and do her absolute best. She summoned her seven hundred years of leading the changeling hive through wars and bare survival.
And she got stomped in the second game.
Of course she made it last as long as she could, but cheap villain-tier monologues about revenge and falling right into her trap whenever Shining Armor kicked her ass in a particularly crafty manner could extend the game only for so long. Eventually, to the obvious disappointment of the griffon soldiers who gathered in larger numbers the closer she was to losing, she congratulated Shining Armor who told her that she was free to visit the Crystal Empire if she wanted to play again. The worst part was that she could feel that he meant it.
What a nerd…
Decent in bed, though. Not particularly endowed, but also not a selfish lover at all.
Just as her thoughts return to the lost game and she begins replaying it move after move in her head again, a sense of familiarity crosses her muted hive link and she mutters:
“...took you long enough…”
As 10013 raises its hoof to knock on the door, Chrysalis opens it and beckons the drone to enter, closing the door after it does so.
“So?” she asks before putting her hoof to her mouth.
“Umm, we found it, Your Majesty,” reports 10013 quietly, nervous under the sharp stare and visibly exhausted, “I told 99111 to hide it in our room. I didn’t want to carry it across the whole resort just in case.”
“Good. Does it work?”
“I, uhh, don’t know,” 10013 shakes its head, “It did something at the laboratory where it was kept but then it went click and it’s just a stick that whooms now. 10101 specifically said we’d never be able to use it.”
“Whooms?” is what Chrysalis catches on to.
“It hums really quietly if you put your ear directly to it. Well, more like whooms,” 10013 helpfully makes the noise, “Whooooom.”
“Alright. Any problems?”
“I think the hippogriffs might not like us,” says 10013, “The guys who live in the jungle. We kinda gave them a scare-”
The next ten minutes prove to be a much realer test of Chrysalis’ self-control than the game was as 10013 tells her about the hanging attempt which it thankfully doesn’t seem to understand.
“-and your game was long over when we returned but no one bothered us and 10101 said it didn’t, uhh, scan anyone around us. Which I think means ‘to sense’ or something. Speaking of which, how did the game go?”
Chrysalis gives it a withering look. A look that reminds it of the old days. A look that you would see only once, and it would be the last thing. Thankfully, Chrysalis just grumbles:
“I bought you the time you needed. That’s all we wanted.”
“You… uhhh… if you liked Scufflestick you can play with us whenever you wan-”
“Go to bed, 10013,” she interrupts the drone, “No, wait, one more thing,” she adds as 10013 immediately turns towards the door, and it senses a shift in the hive mind, “Two for you, one for 65536 for escorting you, same for 36658 and 99111, and finally one for 20100.”
[10013:4, 20100:7, 36658:5, 99111:4, 99380:6, 99526:3, Smiley:6, 65536:3]
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” 10013’s face brightens up with a smile.
“You earned it. Hopefully whatever knowledge we can squeeze out of the living machine will be useful later.”
10013 takes a breath to say something, she just nods towards the door, and the drone immediately drops it and leaves. Shortly after, 10013 enters the completely dark and silent suite. Despite the excitement and curiosity regarding their trip, everyone is already asleep, clearly exhausted from the evening. The fixed radio is quietly chatting on the table by the balcony as usual, with 99380 curled up in an armchair next to it, and no one else is in sight. 10013 yawns, feeling darkness take it so quickly that it doesn’t even go to the “fanatics’ room”, and just belly flops onto the carpet.
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Personally blueblood should have gotten off far worse than he did.
Blueblood had just enough equanity left to realsie he was being tortured? And it was his fault?
The drones have got a floaty stick. Wonder if any search sensors the Griffins might have have picked up any changes?
As for not being able to make a radio without electronics, they might find out that certain Equestrian Twinned Gems are like Ballybran communication crystals, the equivalence of two cans and a piece of string? trying t replicate microwave strip line and KGB resonance bug transcievers is a bit trickier? To get something that sustains oscilation, usually you need active componants, but there is one arrangement of resistors and capacitors that give greater than unity gain, but you need real good componants overall as theres still losses. At least its something that can be made with goop that makes some form of radio waves.
Would be more along, ELF radio communication antenna using a peizo electric material rod?
*suddenly envisions a drone trying to build a working radio out of changeling goop*
Knowing the drones, one of them probably could figure out a way to somehow make it work, too.
You know...I'm starting to wonder if Chrysalis's attempted "purge" of the hivemind in the last story wasn't actually as complete as was then indicated...
Told you that Chryssi does have some sense of when to keep herself from making a scene. She's not that much of a sore loser.
So worst case you can still do some fun mock lightsaber battles with it.
That I can understand, because to Chryssi, that's effectively an attack on her subjects, and thus her hive and, by extension, herself as its ruler. Which, as we all know very well, is highly important to her...even if she sometimes has odd ways of showing it that haven't always actually helped the hive as much as anyone would've liked in the end.
She is trying to be better about that though.
11523823
Maybe High Score ended up in the hive mind after it died?
Hey that's not fair I fell into your stories last year! You never know when you will pick up new readers!
11523715
Hard to argue with that, but rich people protect rich people, especially if they're family, and Sunbutt did see potential in him. Even after what he did to 1313, sexual assault on his guards going on for years, getting Blaze hanged and a grape attempt on Chokey. Also, executions are a bit rare.
And that's why Sunbutt is the real villain of this library.
11523772
- He got kicked in the balls hard enough to see Faust.
- We will see, although the current tech level of the Empire is nowhere near the futuristic Black Ops of Nicolai Irongrip that Cromach sets up over the next centuries.
- As long as they don't try to replicate that nazi(I think) telepathy experiment where they were killing rabbits on a submarine and monitoring the brainwaves of their mother on lan, I think the drones will be okay.
- Any solution requires math, mining, smelting, and being allowed to keep the mined materials. That's already a tall order.
11524093
Welcome to the Nameless Asylu- Library. Please, enjoy your stay. Mandatory electroshock therapy is on Fridays, and nurse Chokey will schedule your nail pulling session for the next month. Also, feel free to join any of the gangs here.
11523823 11523973
- As Archimaredes once said "Give me a group of fed drones with the right kind of goop and I can make anything"
- I presented an idea in this story that might point you in the right direction and made the gigachad move of not elaborating at all. I call it Chekhov's hidden remington.
- I believe that the paralyzing suppressor, a unit of GIL soldiers, the promise of the Reforger, and Sun Hammer being around might have helped in tampering her frustration. Also, she can personally deal with the balance team later, which is the dream of any spurned gamer.
- They only have one whoomer, but they can add whoom-resistant vibrosticks later.
- I have zero doubt that were it not for the very calming aspects pointed out above, the natives would have learned a lot more about 'evil spirits' and with a more lasting effects.
I thought she didn't shag him?
I COULD BE MISTAKEN!...
But wasn't it one of your stories where Chrysalis confirmed this to Cadance when on a visit to canterlot?
Damn... if it wasn't you... who was that?
I remember in whatever I'm thinking of Chrysalis took note of how Cadance was acting around her when shining got brought up, and Chrysalis was like "fuck it I'll be nice for once, what's the harm..." and she told Cadance that she did not take that special first time from Cadance, and Chrysalis noted that Cadance started to have a more energetic bounce in her step...
11524146
I don't think I touched on the subject of Cadance and Shining in any depth. If you find that I made a plot-or-fact hole, though, feel free to point it out and I'll try to fix it. I wrote so much stuff that I forget.
11524164
Doesn't appear to have been you.
Sorry to have bothered you...
But damnit... it was some kinda story where shining couldn't remember what chrysalis had done to/with him. crysalis and cadance had a short chat on their way to the... equestrian throne room?
Cadance was mad as hell at her... understandably so given it was supposed to be special (Cadance and Shining's first "time" together?)... chrysalis guessed why and was right. Cadance cheered up after chrysalis said she didn't do anything "wit... she didn't sex him.
no idea why I'm using euphemisms...
Chrysalis wasn't a nice bug at this point but she wasn't a complete jerk either. She decided to throw Cadance a bone.
There are SO many stories that could have been... damnit...
11524110
i.postimg.cc/2ypLkLpK/artworks-000478328559-mf9qp5-t500x500.jpg
I jest...
Edit:
no? Not funny?
fair enough...
11524545
My source is that I made it the fk up!
11525029
I had a horrible day. But you made me laugh very hard before I went to sleep. Thank you.