Day 10 - Just another busy day: 6/7
Aside from the necessary feeding, 387 hasn’t felt the desire to interact with pretty much anyone since they had the suppressors put on. It seemed like a forced nuisance when anyone could see at a first glance that he was one of the “bad changelings”. On the other hole, in the long run he was better fed than in ages, the drones were seemingly mostly immune to the negative effects of changeling reputation, and he could practice his flutterpony tricks in peace. It was like slipping into old shoes - they were full of holes, one sole was peeling off, and they didn’t fit right anymore, but somehow they were still comfortable, maybe more than his current set.
Yes, ponies can wear both shoes and horseshoes, albeit usually not at the same time. Don’t be a stickler.
The only changeling warrior on the Ataraki island pauses his mental exercise as he senses 10013 approaching and, from its brief moment of joy and relief, it’s clear that the drone is headed for him instead of just passing by.
“387, can you help me?”
“Hmm?” he opens his eyes. When the drone doesn’t take it as an answer, he adds: “What do you need?”
10013 looks around in case of anyone listening in, and says:
“Everyone agreed to go. We’ve been planning on how to take things, and 10101 had some ideas but I’d like to hear your opinion on how we should approach the whole thing.”
“Hmmm,” 387 rubs his chin as 10013 sits down in front of him, “Shouldn’t you be the one coming up with a plan, mister leader?”
“You said my role was to find the best changeling for each job, so here I am,” 10013 tilts its head which makes 387 smirk.
“Okay okay, I can’t say I wasn’t thinking about it, but without even knowing the details of the area-”
A flow of information and pictures through his hive link makes 387 reconsider immediately.
“10101 showed us a complete map of the underground,” says 10013, “The place is much bigger than what we saw during our first visit. Its idea is to split into two teams, one which would cause a distraction by the jungle entrance to draw the griffons back and one that would tunnel through the cave-ins separating the area where 10101 was from the main facility.”
387 examines the three-dimensional model of the facility looking like an inverted pyramid.
“Sounds good, but why not go as a group from the inside in the first place and avoid the griffons entirely?”
“10101 says the griffons got reinforcements and that there are too many of them. They’re progressing quickly because there aren’t enough still active security machines to push them back, and the deeper they get the higher the chance the inside team will run either into active robots or the griffons. By the time it gets dark, who knows how deep they’ll be?”
“I see,” 387 ponders a potential approach while examining the mental images of the griffon encampment provided by the hidden camera, “Professionals or not, it looks like they don’t think there’s anyone who would attack them from the outside. Admittedly, that’s understandable. So the idea is to cause havoc in the camp, wait until the forces inside withdraw to defend it, and the security robots pursue them?”
“Yup. We’re kinda short on details, though, which is why I’m here.”
“I’m thinking about it but, no matter what, you guys MUST be full of love for this. I’d like to hear your idea first, though, if you have one,” 387 relaxes again, eyes closed and hind legs crossed. With its newfound mobility, 10013 imitates him and to the outside soon there are only two changelings silently meditating on the lawn.
“I thought that I, 36658, and 20100 would distract the griffons and the rest would escort 10101 around the facility. The inside group should have it easier despite the angry robots, and we veterans are more experienced with fleeing in new situations. Smiley would stay here because if it panics we might not be able to calm it down.”
“It’s a basic take, but I see several flaws in it,” 387’s mind works through potential scenarios with variables being griffon weaponry, various encounter ranges based on the map, potential cover, and many more, “One, I think the less experienced squad should remain outside. It will be much easier to run if things go crotchtits up, not to mention that 99111 might try to examine something mechanical on the inside and waste your time. On top of that, the distraction might have to take the form of a forest fire, and 99526’s mass production of goop will be perfect for it.”
“Wouldn’t burning the jungle cause trouble?”
“Forest fires happen all the time, and jungles are generally wet enough to avoid the fire covering the whole island. On top of that, forest fires are actually good for the vegetation in the long run, especially in comparison to magma,” 387 says dismissively, “I’m assuming the outside group will have 10101’s communicator with them, right?”
“Yup, 10101 will be able to talk to them at any point.”
“Good. Now, the inside group might have to fight and deal with unexpected obstacles. 36658 is surprisingly decent at scrapping, even though it’s untrained. Taking 65536 would be best by far, but if something happened to it I’m pretty sure we would be begging to be swallowed by molten magma once Luna found out. On top of that, if I believe someone to not panic it’s 36658, and just its proximity might help you and 20100 remain calm in case of trouble. However…” 387 pauses.
“Hmm?” 10013 senses that 387 is fighting himself about something.
“I think you should take Smiley with you after all. Silents are made to obey direct, simple, clear orders and, as much as I hate to say it, you might need a body to throw in the way of something you can’t deal with. I’d take a veteran drone over a Silent any day, even in Smiley’s case.”
“387?!” 10013 gasps out loud and opens its eyes.
“You asked. Do with that information what you will,” 387 sighs, not wanting to sound heartless, “Look, I made sacrifices you can’t imagine, 10013. I had to let friends I’ve known for centuries die to save others, and it always rips out a part of your soul. But you know what? Seeing you and the other drones here and LIVING, not just briefly existing before something eats you in the tunnels, is the only way to regain at least the tiniest pieces of myself. It’s the hope that all the sacrifices were worth something. Maybe it was enough, and maybe not, but I’m the one who has to live with those choices. I would never want you to have to make a choice like that, but you live a dangerous life, little drone, and a leader has to make decisions.”
“9999 made its,” adds the voice.
10013 takes a deep breath, walks over to 387, sits down into his lap, and gives the warrior a hug.
***
The resort yacht commandeered in the name of the Paladins finally docks at the pier of the resort again, and somewhat disgruntled Gem splits off from Ten and Bright Star.
“...politics… can’t do anything… bite them all and have them jump into the sea…” she grumbles as she walks to the promenade and then along the beach towards her bungalow.
Nothing major seems to have happened during her absence, which calms her down a little during her brief walk, and she soon enters her temporary wooden home.
“Welcome back, Miss Gem!” the chipper voice of 65536 immediately greets her, “Where have you been? Miss Zeri said you sailed off on the yacht.”
Gem can’t answer immediately, having to process the scene playing out in front of her. 65536 is being 65536, nothing strange there. However, the image of Blueblood cleaning the floor doesn’t fit with her idea of the world and requires squaring up.
“What’s going on here?” she nods towards Blueblood.
“Private BB was looking for something to do and I suggested we could clean up here as a thank you for taking care of us here in this strange place,” 65536 answers with a smile while Gem raises an eyebrow at the ex-Prince.
“Broadly correct,” Blueblood refuses to elaborate, resuming washing the floor with a rag wrapped around the hooves of his forelegs.
“We’re almost done!” 65536 keeps going as if this wasn’t the weirdest thing that’s happened so far, “We didn’t know when you’d be coming back but I guess we got lucky. When we’re finished, we’ll take a good, long swim followed by a run around the resort. You wanna join us?”
“Uhhh,” Gem is still unsuccessfully processing, “Maybe? At least with the swimming part, I’m not much of a runner. Blueblood, to what do I owe this newfound interest in… existing?”
Blueblood wrings the rag into a bucket of water dirty with a mix of alchemical residues and general grime before answering in a completely casual tone with a nod towards still beaming 65536:
“I’m pretty sure that if I got the sweet release of death without this guy’s permission, it would somehow call upon all other dead drones it keeps telling me horrifying stories about and ask them to hound me for all eternity.”
Gem puts the response into a mental “parse in detail later” box, and pats 65536’s head:
“Huh, a drone necromancer would be something to see.”
“Don’t even start or it will happen,” Blueblood rolls his eyes.
“How does one romance necks?” asks 65536.
“See what you’ve done? I’m not explaining ponesutra to it,” Blueblood resumes wiping the floor.
“65536, when two ponies love each other in a non-friend way and perform some deed to show it, that’s called romance.”
“Uh huh, I knew that but how does that involve necks specifically?” asks 65536 with the precision of a probing scalpel.
“That means you can romance somepony’s neck by kissing it, for example.”
“Oh, that makes sense,” 65536 nods before tilting its head, “And if you want that, I think you can just ask any drone. I don’t see a reason why you would need a drone with a specific talent.”
Behind it, Blueblood facehoofs and Gem gives him a smug smile.
“I’m glad you’re feeling a little better, Blueblood,” the smug smile turns into a warm one, “I don’t doubt Princess Celestia will be as well.”
The mention hits Blueblood like a hammer and his breathing quickens. When he gathers himself, he shakes his head.
“I… I’m not ready to face her. I don’t know I’ll ever be.”
Gem finds herself at loss for words, because anything she could say would be a generalized, empty platitude. However, there’s always a way to pierce any armor and often that way is one of consistency and patience. Something 65536 seems to have understood immediately.
“So how about going for that swim, guys?” she asks.
***
“Hi again, Miss sporty!” 99380 waves at the griffoness whom it spots on the way back to the sports area. Clearly, she’s spent longer than usual there today as she’s completely drenched with sweat, her white clothes balled in a net bag on her back. She blinks, adjusts the shade on her forehead, looks at it, wipes her face, and smiles.
“Hey there, little guy.”
“Sorry for having to run off,” 99380 catches up with her, “Important hive stuff. Whatcha doing?”
“Trying not to pass out,” she chuckles, “I’ve been outside in this heat for too long and too close to noon. That’s not healthy. I don’t know how you handle it, being all black.”
“I’ve been in the shade, mostly. Try that!” 99380 offers some helpful advice.
She shoots the drone a sharp look which is met only with open honesty and genuine desire to help. The drone isn’t insulting her nor being sarcastic, so she replies:
“I’m about to do that. There’s a staff laundromat nearby that should be pretty empty at this time of day so I’ll have time to cool down while I wait until my clothes are clean.”
“Lawn-drone-mat? What’s that? Can I come?” asks 99380, “I don’t have anything to do until the evening.”
“Sure,” she shrugs, “But it’s no.. activity or anything, it’s just for washing your clothes. Do you guys even wear clothes?”
“Nu uh, we don’t get those at home,” 99380 shakes its head, “Those are for when you’re cold, right?” it pauses, realizing something, “Wait, you just said you were super hot. Why wear clothes?”
“Ohhhh, that’s…” she realizes she doesn’t know where to start. Fashion? Utility? “Well, some clothes actually make it so that you’re less hot. White clothes specifically, but they need to let in enough air so that you don’t just bake in them too,” she shakes her net bag, “On top of that, guys sometimes stare where they shouldn’t when you’re wearing nothing…” she lets the sentence hang in the air.
“Oh,” 99380 tilts its head, walking by her side, “Did I look where I shouldn’t? I’m sorry if I did. We don’t have anything like that, or at least I think we don’t. Where shouldn’t I look?”
“N-No, you’re doing alright,” she pats the drone’s head to distract it so that she doesn’t have to explain modesty to a changeling.
“Yay,” satisfied 99380 doesn’t press the issue.
The griffoness leads the way into a one-story building nearby and then into its cellar which is only barely colder than the outside, but much wetter. One side of the cellar is lined with what looks to 99380 as six huge box machines with a round window in the front and something spinning in almost all of them.
The drone hops onto a bench in the middle of the tiled room and observes the griffoness putting her clothes into an empty washing machine and turning it on. When the insides start spinning too, 99380 trots over and presses its nose against the glass.
“Whoom whoom whoom,” the drone mumbles to itself, its head slowly making circles.
“Little guy?”
“Hmm?” it tears its eyes away from the spinning clothes.
“Could you stay here and keep an eye on my laundry for a few minutes while I grab something cold to drink?” asks the griffoness, “Nothing should go wrong, but the washing machines can get stuck and sometimes someone steals laundry… especially female underwear.”
“Sure,” 99380 nods, “But what do I do if, uhh, stuff happens?”
“If the washing machine starts bouncing more than the others, just push the power button,” she taps a large round button on top, “And I doubt anyone would try to steal anything with you around.”
“Alrighty!” 99380 resumes watching the almost hypnotic motion of the spinning drum of the washing machine.
Spinny and spinny and spinny and spinny!
Wheeeee!
***
With the negotiations over, 20100 returns to its work on the gift for 10013. After ruining two plastic sheets, one with fiery results, the recognizable shape of 9999 is pressed into the once again hard mold.
20100 runs the claws of its right foreleg over the raised shape, and smiles before transforming those back into a hoof with a hole to set its smallest paint brush into.
Still a lot of work to do.
Time flies as it loses itself in painting by the glass door to the balcony fully open. Eventually, however, its nostrils crinkle on their own as it starts smelling smoke. It puts the brush down and looks around.
Did I accidentally leave goop somewhere while heating up the plastic sheets?
After a quick run through the suit, 20100 figures out that the scent must be coming from the outside, and steps out onto the balcony to see if anyone needs help. Granted, there’s a limit to what 20100 could do, but 10013 has fire dousing goop, so calling the right drone for the job would be enough.
It spots nothing, but the smell grows more noticeable now that 20100 is focused again, so it hides the easel with the sheet, closes the balcony door, and flies into the air. No one it can see seems to be worried, so it continues searching mostly to satisfy its own curiosity. It takes only a minute of floating above the resort to spot a seafood grill tent one level below the servant apartments operated by an older griffon chick and surrounded by plastic chairs and tables laid out into the street and on the lawn. There’s a very young, excited hippogriff running around, bringing the griffoness’ food to the guests, and something about the whole scene triggers a smile from 20100. After watching the seated guests eat for a moment, 20100 sniffs the air again and lands by the grill.
“Can I sit down?” it asks the griffoness inside the wall-less tent.
She measures it with a frown.
“Wooow!” the hippogriff kid rushes over, examining 20100 from all sides, “Hiii!”
“Hello! I’m 20100.”
“Woooow, that’s so old! I’m 9.”
“Woooow!” 20100’s eyes go wide, “That’s so high rank!”
“Uhh, rank?”
The two exchange brief, confused looks before 20100 facehoofs.
“My bad, I get it now. 20100 is our version of a name.”
“Ooooh, my name is Featherhoof! Are you a changeling? I read stories about you! Uhh,” the kid’s excitement fades a little and it backs off as 20100 smiles, showing the two small fangs in its mouth, “Bad stories, mostly…”
20100 waves its hoof dismissively.
“I keep hearing that from everyone around here,” it says, “But that’s gotta be about the high ranks- I mean our high ranks. I’m a drone, we just carry stuff around and dig tunnels. Oh, and I paint! I want to draw moving pictures the most, but paper is hard to come by back home so I make something that lasts instead.”
“Mooom!” the kid smiles after processing the message and concluding that if a changeling likes normal stuff and its of a similar size they can’t be all that bad, “Can we go dig a hole?”
“NO! No holes in the lawn!” the griffoness first frowns at 20100 and then points at a nearby chair with a pout, “Changeling, you can sit there until a paying guest wants the spot.”
“Oh I can pay!” 20100 pulls out a gold coin out of a leg hole and puts it on the counter.
“Do you even eat real food?” she narrows her eyes in suspicion.
“Umm, do you have anything to drink? Anything is okay,” 20100 locates a menu hanging by the counter, “I was just looking around anyway in case there was a fire that needed putting out,” it chuckles, “But then all this burning meat reminded me of a friend who liked to cook.”
The griffoness takes the gold coin and points to the empty chair again.
“Sit down, my son will bring you your order in a minute.”
The little hippogriff runs off behind the counter and pulls out a plastic cup from a stack in the back as 20100 hops into the presented chair, looks up at the sky, and sniffs the air rich with the smell of spices and cooking.
I wonder if 17070 is still alive.
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That is unfortunate, I hope you will feel better. I still think that doing stuff even if it does not bring much joy is better than doing nothing and feeling bad about having done nothing.
Thinking about Drones life is enough to break any truely feeling entity. Theyre like fish, but with feelings.
It turns out hell is just being forced to sit in a room as changeling drone after changeling drone comes in and tells you about their brief, brutal lives.
11602691
the worst part is not the the gruesome parts itself, but the fact it happens to the drones
Well, that just raises more questions.
It's okay, Wordsmith. I know that existentialistic feeling too well. Currently stuck with unemployment since graduating. Everyday ranges from depressive to normal. It will pass, but not permanently.
But take comfort that I share the pain too.
If my memory serves, I love the call back to the logger cook. Its parting with everyone is sad, even now it still stings a bit too.
Ponies have four whole hooves; they can wear up to that many different styles of shoe before you even get into wearing, say, boots over horseshoes, which would just be like insoles anyway. And before anyone objects, Rarity's first Gala outfit had high heels on only the forelegs.
I want to think that Ladle took 17070 in, understanding that it was never capable of being an enemy combatant of its own free will, and that she has learned enough to know that sending it to the ponies would be a Tartarus sentence but sending it back to the changelings would be a crusher sentence, so now they live together and she cooks in pots that it makes. I want to think that very much. Please don't make something horrible happen offscreen. Again.
Well your writing matters to me. I see a new chapter and smile and read it knowing that i am in for a good thoughtful time.
A reader suggested a short joke idea so I tried to incorporate into the final scene of this chapter. Feel free to check 20100 at the grill out again. You people should be writing, not reading, because at this point you people are clearly more creative than me.
I don't think I adapted it well enough.
11602626
I know, I know. I go through this often enough to know the symptoms, even though this one's a lot worse. Kinda like "I made all the choices that were available to me in this life and here's the result - enjoooy!" and then you look around. But if that's my final score in the real world, I can at least be a flesh puppet that sometimes produces somewhat decent word salad.
11602674
Somewhere, Aquaman just screamed: "WHAT DID YOU JUST FISHING SAY?"
11602691
In a completely cheerful manner too. Like "Yeah, it happens. Enjoy every moment you can before you die to something you weren't experienced enough to deal with."
11602720
Why do I get the feeling that the gruesome drone death recaps are the only memorable thing about this story.
11602959
20100 didn't expect the sharp smell of heating plastic and sneezed. Thankfully, the sheet caught it all.
11602986
- I got pretty lucky that was uneployed after graduating only roughly four months before accidentally stumbling upon a job I'm still doing some 6-7 years later. It's uncertain now but it seems like I'll be okay. Doesn't help with the head, but help with food and shelter so that counts. I wish you good luck and hope that if you don't find something that satisfies you, at least you find something that pays for food and a roof.
- I was hoping the mention wouldn't just fly over everyone still interested in my droning so it was pretty heavy handed. But 20100 remembers.
11603226
- Hell yeah! Canon accurate.
- Got it. I will only make terrible things happen on screen now. Seriously, though, I think the ancient greeks had a saying along the lines of "the man is cursed because he drew the attention of the gods". Substitute that for a writer and it's clear that the offscreen characters are in the least amount of danger.
11603398
My whiny rumbling was mostly about life overall but figuring out how to say something at least remotely funny or insightful in reply to comments is the highlight of my week.
11603455
mom get the camera! he put in my idea!
i was expecting you to add it later in the next chapter, but this is pretty good as well, dont worry
also, thanks for the praise but thats definetly not case, we would never think of a lot of the stuff you come up with for your stories, even less writing it
11603475
Funny story. I read the DM and thought "That's a great idea. That would totally fit into a conversation between 20100 and the kid" and I immediately spent some time rewriting it in my gooigle docs.
Later in the evening I realized that I completely forgot that I changed the chapter that I already posted and I had no original version available.
Lesson to learn: Maybe life isn't easy because I'm an idiot.
Hey man, thanks for writing this awesome stuff for us.
11684206
Thanks for reading my word salad.
Have we heard anything new about or is 17070 still around?
11777696
Not in this story, no.