Waking up, 36658 groans as a throb of dull pain spreads through its head. While this experience would worry most drones, 36658 is familiar with it as a side effect of medicine overdose. As it realizes that the familiar warmth of 20100 next to it is missing, the drone does a quick check of the situation.
Whoah, this has been a much longer sleepy time than usual. It's afternoon already.
The hive mind is strangely quiet, and the normally dynamic mental map with at least vague locations of other changelings is now only a set of lifeless and static floor plans. That's... surprising, to say the least, although not unique. Unlike most drones, 36658 is used to being away from more mentally skilled high ranks innately serving as hive link communication nodes due to long stretches of time tending to its poppy patch on the edge of the Badlands.
Why would the high ranks be unreachable at this time of day, though?
A quick mental reach towards the nearest link only makes the drone look downwards and see exhausted 387 sleeping on a hammock, properly. His mind is locked up so tight that it's not helping 36658 link up with other changelings beyond the drone's reach even unconsciously.
Did I... miss anything?
Reaching out for the most powerful hive node, meaning the Queen herself, a chill runs down 36658's spine. There's no Queen. Not that it could sense her but not access her link, no. Her link is just gone. The only thing preventing it from panicking is that it can faintly sense other drones, albeit they're all too far to contact or locate, and it can't feel any remnants of anxiety or signs of trouble.
Alright, maybe the Queen just decided she needed a proper rest without anyone bothering her, right?
Finally, it reaches out towards 93.
Ughhh...
Pain, nausea, and whatever the mental equivalent of the stench of vomit is, assault 36658 who closes its link immediately in response. However, the feeling is eerily familiar to the drone used to substance overdose. Overcome with curiosity, the closest thing that drones have to a 'healer' leaves the cabin, heads upstairs, and knocks on the door of the changeling delegation's hoofmaiden suite shortly after.
It waits... and waits.
An occasional thud of someone bumping into furniture follows along with groaning and unsteady hoofsteps until the lock clicks and the door opens, letting out the acrid smell of goop in the middle of forming mixed with alcohol and soap. Through a crack revealing a dark room, 36658 can see 93 shielding her eyes with a foreleg.
"...yes...?" she grunts quietly.
"...hi!" 36658 whispers, aware of how she must be feeling, "Is anything wrong? I can't sense the Queen and 387 is completely gooped. Can I help you?"
93's raspy voice begins saying something but she stumbles backwards, sits down, and clutches her head. 36658 walks into the room and closes the door behind itself, burying it in near-pitch blackness lit only by glowing teal eyes again, not that it bothers the drone whatsoever.
"Does your head hurt?" the drone knows that whispering is the only way, "I'd give you some new anguishdecimators from yesterday but they might make things worse. I tried curing my hurties I got from taking too many agonyslayers by more of them and it didn't go-"
"...please..." croaks 93, presenting a hoof to 36658 who interprets the gesture correctly for once.
Unlike when 36658 can normally nudge its digestion in the right direction to spit out the correct green chip, this time the drone opens a leg hole inside which rests multiple white pills, one of which it offers to 93 who greedily devours it.
YOU ARE READING
They're... ON HOLIDAY?
Fanfiction[SEQUEL TO: They're EVERYWHERE!] Several years after the changeling invasion of Canterlot, queen Chrysalis gets an invitation to attend a cruise followed by a stay in a luxury holiday resort on an island belonging to the Griffon Empire. Supposedly...
