"Grumble grumble High Score grumble grumble!" 99111, on its own, heads through the servant deck. With no idea what annoyed grumbling actually entails, it just keeps repeating the word grumble punctuated by the source of its irritation, "I'm the one doing my job. I'm the one digging. I'm the one running away from flappy suckers. Grumble grumble, not some old drone."
99111 looks at the staircase ahead.
"Grumble grumble High Score once dug so deep it fell back from the sky," puffing its cheeks, it heads upstairs, "I'll show the Potatoes that we can all be as good as their High Score. No matter what they say, it must have been just a drone like us. If High Score dug down, I'll go up!"
It stops on the carpeted floor of the mostly completely silent nobility deck.
"Huh? Where did everyone go?" it looks from side to side, spotting another staircase leading up, "Nevermind. Up I go. Grumble grumble Shiny Bringer my butt. What does-"
It opens a door at the top of the stairs by pushing on a long handle and almost gets deafened by an explosion of voices.
"-that... even-"
Fresh breeze with a completely unique scent in contrast to the stale underground air it's been breathing its entire life with the short exception of the trip to Manehattan assaults its nostrils.
"-mean...?"
And gets blinded by the low-hanging, late afternoon sun.
"Shinyyy..."
99111 simply stares directly ahead, mouth agape.
The vast main deck is filled with four categories of ponies. One must be the representatives - they're sitting around and chatting, always surrounded by the second category of ponies - servants on duty running around, carrying drinks, food, or messages. Category three are the off-duty servants, enjoying numerous bars, several enormous swimming pools, or simply lying around on deck chairs and enjoying the sunlight. The final category are the cruise ship staff, manning the bar counters, wiping the deck, serving as security, carrying around drinks and food to the off-duty servants, or doing anything else that needs doing.
Breathe, breathe.
Maybe I should contact someone.
99111 instinctively scans the area for hive links nearby and finds... two completely unknown ones.
Huh?
It reaches out to the first one which feels similar to touching a high rank, and it closes up immediately. The drone can still sense it, so its owner isn't trying to hide their presence, but any access including communication is now completely beyond 99111's skills.
As it touches the second new link which feels more like it belongs to a drone, a mental voice replies immediately:
"Hiii! I'm really busy right now but I'll find ya later and we'll talk. I'm so excited to hear what's been happening back in the hive since my last visit. Is 10013 okay? Did High Score come back already? Does 36658 still have its poppy patch? Wait! No! Sorry, can't get distracted right now. See you later, bye!"
99111 just blinks, completely stunned. Who was that?
There's just... too much stuff happening at the same time.
It takes a deep breath. The good part is that so far no one has yelled or thrown anything. In fact, no one seems to be paying 99111 any attention whatsoever. To a drone, that's as good as things get.
Should I talk to the veterans?
No... no no no. They would just say some nonsense about High Score.
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...
