(A)Way (from) home: 4
This specific cavern is beyond special, firstly by not being a cavern at all despite being underground. In fact, it could be mistaken for the Canterlot castle’s throne room if one ignored the lack of windows, white paint, gold foil everywhere, a throne, or… most things, really. At least it’s bigger and roughly the same shape, plus it boasts three balconies lining the walls, forming one floor each.
Oh, and a giant slide leading from the back of the topmost one all the way down into a pool of green jelly. Extremely bouncy green jelly, judging by the happily squee-ing changeling drone who skips like a rock along its surface after being launched by the slide and landing in a groove stuffed with strange white webbing mixed with green goop.
The place is so big that even with the roughly hundred or so hive drones split into groups of various sizes busy with rather eclectic activities there’s more than enough space for everyone. Some drones are surrounded by unidentified bits and bobs, sticks, stones, even the occasional rough gem, busy with trading. Some are embroiled in tactical battles of figurines of everything from armed changelings and ponies to monstrous tentacle blobs of varied quality made from goop on battlegrounds drawn with chalk on the stone floor. A large group of drones is in formation in the back, tightly connected through their hive links and doing what to a knowledgeable observer would be a version of basic yoga, with one walking among them and correcting failures of form which they might not see.
The walls of the cavern are covered with a mix of scratched-in scribbles and writing, containing useful phrases like “a chair is for sitting on, not sleeping under, but can be used that way” followed by a tiny pictogram of said piece of furniture. Something as basic wouldn’t make sense to a ranked changeling, but the hive mind space reserved for knowledge which the drones derived over time is rather limited and archiving anything that can be written down in a resilient and accessible manner to avoid more love drain is critical. The writings are periodically interrupted by small, beehive-like alcoves filled with, frankly, anything, which are the belongings of drones who aren’t trading right now. These days there is no need for stashes hidden in the dangerous tunnels so that ranked changelings wouldn’t simply go and take anything they find useful, and all drones need is somewhere to keep their stuff in one place and within grabbing distance.
In contrast to the comparative grandeur of the place, the entrance is a singular crack in the front wall, enough only for a drone to comfortably slip through. The first thing such an entering drone sees is a raised dais with two larger than life, although not by much, drone statues, one in the front looking ahead with a smile and a determined expression, and a scribble on the dias stating “High Score” with no explanation as if everyone should know. The second statue is of a heavily scarred drone bending under the presumed crushing weight of a chunk of rock on its back. The scribbles under its forelegs state “The Guide”, and nothing else.
The final place of interest is the only piece of actual “technology” in the cavern - a vault-like door made of hardened goop in the back, sliding sideways on stone rails below and above it. Don’t laugh, it’s still tech.
Behind the door lies a short, narrow tunnel splitting into four rooms, each blocked off by a smaller green door each. What lies behind those is a mystery, because a scribble by the big door in the High Score’s cavern states: “Ask 99111 or 99859 if you can come in. Boom danger!”
Unlike anywhere else in the hive, there is a quiet musical tune playing through the hive links of the present drones, its strength carefully curated to reach only around the High Score’s cavern and not waste unnecessary love. It, however, gets suddenly interrupted by a mental warning ringing collectively in everyone’s heads, which makes all drones look around, unsure what to do.
“Alarm in tunnel x1899q-d55d41! 99441. Pincery swarm noodles.”
“Good job, 99380,” the mental communication continues, its overhead identifying the source as a drone ranked 10000, “Response team, let’s go! That’s the Queen’s special project. We don’t have an Angry Shiny nearby so gear up.”
Three drones stand up from their respective activities, rushing towards an alcove by the exit in which there are several strange, small goop eggs seemingly containing two more goop spheres, each of a slightly different shade of green. Two of the drones grab two eggs each, sticking them into free foreleg holes, and the final one grabs a harness containing a barrel connected to a nozzle.
10000, wincing in discomfort and with gritted teeth, limps to the cavern entrance. Its right hind leg is stiff and most of its carapace is covered in a visible web of cracks, seemingly barely holding together.
“10000, you shouldn’t come,” says the harness-wearing drone when 10000 joins the trio by the entrance, “You’re barely even moving already and-”
“I’m fine, 99158,” 10000 cuts it off, nodding to the device on 99158’s back, “You’re still the slowest one with that on your back.”
“We don’t have time!” 99911, another drone present, says in a forceful tone, “10000, you can come but you put me in charge of the response team so you obey me, okay?”
“Of course,” 10000 nods, reaching for one of the eggs.
“You’re on an- analys- thinking duty, 10000. You get the glowgoop!” orders 99911. 10000 briefly ponders objecting, but it would only make things worse in a time-sensitive situation, so it reaches for a longer green stick instead. As it does so, 99911 finally speaks out loud for the first time, to the cheering of the drones within earshot, “99158, 99112, 10000 let’s go save our buddy!”
***
Situated to the north of the Badlands and west from the forest about which geographers still argue whether it belongs to the Hayseed Swamp to the east or to the Everfree to the northwest is a small town going by the name Dodge Junction. More a collection of rickety shacks with some apple orchards around than a full town, actually. Its most important part, however, is a train station - the final stop on a long line of train tracks leading across Equestria, one which barely any trains visit due to the vast majority turning around in Appleloosa.
Dodge Junction had been a forgotten hole pretty much since its founding, but in recent years, specifically ever since the peace treaty between Equestria and the changeling hive, its proximity to the Badlands meant that it received occasional visits from changelings sent on missions for the hive. Not that the volume of changelings was particularly different from before, but now the ponies of Dodge Junction at least knew about them.
Said knowledge is the only reason why the solitary sleepy stallion dozing off behind the counter of a booth made from wooden planks barely holding together doesn’t freak out when the sound of hoofsteps on wood wakes him up. With a jolt, he looks up, spotting a duo of changelings, one a small kind which he hasn’t seen before and one the size and shape of a young mare. Both are wearing ragged backpacks held together in places with some green mess, the smaller one’s being nearly half of the changeling’s size. The mare’s one is normal, but there can’t just be a normal changeling attached to it, noooo. This one is wearing what looks like a small rectangle of blackboard on a string around her neck, and her carapace is covered in faint grey stripes akin to those of a zebra. Seeing their glowing teal eyes at this late time of night, with only one lamp lighting the entire wooden platform excluding the lightbulb hanging from the ceiling of the booth, can’t be healthy for the poor booth pony’s heart.
The mare sits down, turns the tablet hanging on her neck around, scribbles something on it, and finally shows it to the smaller changeling who reads it, nods, and hops onto the bench under the lamp. With one more swipe of her hoof, she wipes her slate and trots towards the now interested booth pony, stopping in front of the counter.
“Can I help ya?” he asks, professionalism winning over the horror movie image of two singing twins approaching him to devour his soul creeping through his mind.
The mare scribbles on her tablet again:
[Tikkit please. Two. Trade shiny for it.]
“Uhh, a… ticket? T’ Appleloosa?” he leans across the counter.
*Nod nod nod!*
“Tha’ll be forty-six bits,” he says.
The changeling mare tilts her head, seemingly processing the message.
“Do yer kind even use money?” the stallion momentarily feels silly. Of course they have to know what money is. This is a species known for their craftiness and threat…
…and yet both present changelings feel alien not in a predatory way but rather in the way of someone put into a completely new situation who is trying to figure out what to do.
After a moment of thought, the mare takes off her backpack, briefly rummages through it, and finally pulls out several gold coins which she puts on the counter. A slate with [46?] written on it slides next to the coins afterwards.
“Oh, yea, yea,” the stallion shakes his head, still stunned by the entire situation, swipes the coins, and presents two tickets to Appleloosa, “Here ya go.”
The mare stashes them into her backpack and trots over to the bench where the smaller one is patiently waiting…
…and waiting…
…and waiting.
Near midnight, the stallion closes the booth and goes home, thankful for the evening work of the local weather pegasi who prevented a blizzard from taking the town by storm and pushed the worst of it towards the forest. As he approaches the bench where the smaller changeling is sitting up with all four legs wrapped around its bulky backpack while the mare is sitting at attention, both covered in light dusting of snow, she looks at him with a patient expression of someone waiting for the situation to unfold.
“Umm, little lady, the train ain’t coming until t’morrow mornin’.”
*Scribble scribble*
[Sleepy time?]
“I guess ya could take a nap ‘fore it’s here,” he shrugs, “But there ain’t any hotels in Dodge or nothing, and it’s getting pretty cold here.”
[Goodnight!]
“Ah- nevermind,” seeing the changeling mare pull out a thin blanket that’s more holes than fabric and slip under the bench, quickly followed by the second changeling, he shakes his head, “Night, I guess.”
“Goodnight!” says the other changeling with a cheerful wave of its hoof.
The stallion flips a switch on the lamp, plunging the platform into complete darkness with the exception of two pairs of shimmering teal eyes under a bench.
The eyes blink.
He hears a squeaky yawn followed by rustling of the blanket.
“...goodnight, Smiley…”
*scribble scribble*
The eyes close.
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It would be intresting if the Drones picked up the idea of calling a rapid response quad, The Flying Squad, and went with bird names.
Rooks to tunnel bx7, Parrots to shiny collection,
Canaries to Sing sing?
I keep forgetting that Smiley is superior to other Drones and is not one at all.
11678811
oh shit, it is? i always thought the silents were just braindead drones
11678892
They are, or were, at least. It seems smiley got an upgrade.
And still more tech than they had before in previous stories, so...I'd still call it a noteworthy achievement, albeit still just a "first step" in the general direction of tech.
I see Smiley's been experimenting with personal image.
11678799
Personally, I'm just picturing this team of drones featuring in the intro to some 80's action show. That seems particularly "drone-y" to me.
11678799
I would NOT want to be a drone on the hive's canary team.
11678811 11678892 11679023
Silents are slightly bigger, stronger, and more durable, but baseline braindead. Still, with a non-starvation level of love plus proper stimuli a lot can happen.
11679454
Yarr, there be more beyond the door!
Jam zebra!
"The D Team"
They're not the best, not even good, but if all hope is lost, you may as well throw them at it.
11679556
Especially if theyre Dwarf Drones?
The tilted one, Listing.
The cleaning one, Roomba,
The purring one, Cat.
The sad one, Crying.
And the one whose name shall never be said, Home Alone?
I simply love those drones
11680602
As soon as the portal to this particular Equestria opens, I'm there with you and we go grab a couple. Rainbow lasers won't stop us.
...so Smiley was in control of Gem?
11681458
Whaaaaaat?
Okay, seriously. I've had 2 recent questions that I have no idea where they came from. What and where did I screw up so badly?
11681587
You had the mare changeling holding the tablet while the other little changeling went over and sat down
11681588
Ohhh I get it. No, the "zebra-d" changeling is Smiley (guess why), the other changeling is a drone.
Gem is not involved at any point.
11681620
Ah, so has Smiley always been larger than the drones and I never realized it?
11682025
Not by much but yes. Now they're a bit more transformed, less bulky, even taller, and presenting more of a female shape.
11682418
...huh, okay
11682529
I will try to be better in my descriptions.
11682536
Nah I'm the one who skips details and has a bad memory
Quick nit--Dodge Junction has cherry orchards, not apples.