They're... ON HOLIDAY?

Day 1 - Shippy time: 9/9

99380 is standing propped against the railing at the front of the cruise ship, its forelegs dangling over it. There are barely any ponies around, most being busy by or in one of the three giant swimming pools and sunbathing areas or in the establishments surrounding them. The drone is smiling as it watches the foam of the waves crashing against the ship far down, scattering shiny droplets of water everywhere. It's relatively quiet, there are dancing shinies deep down - the reflections of the low-hanging sun. No one seems to be needing its services and, after so much wandering around the ship's busy interior, the relative quiet is soothing. 99380 lets its mind wander and simply stares ahead.

It's always been a bit difficult to gather its thoughts but it's never mattered so far. Digging was digging, carrying was carrying. Still, everyone has always been nice and, while this new situation is confusing as all holes, there's no present threat. Life is good.

And so, with the hive links of every other drone easy to sense in its mind, the faint presence of 387, the clear minds of 93 and the Queen, as well as those of two more unknown changelings, 99380 simply hangs over the railing and stares at all the shinies in the water.

***

"Those were the final orders for today," announces the head chef as 36658 and 20100 ride the elevator down after ten o'clock at night, "Good job, everypony, and you two as well."

"We did it!"
"For High Score!"

The drones hoof bump each other.

"I wish I had your enthusiasm," breathes out one of the kitchen staff, taking off their white apron covered with smudges and grease.

"Wait, there were ponies still upstairs," 36658 looks at the head chef, "Do they ask different ponies for food now?"

"No, they don't," the head chef gestures to the drones to follow him into the corner, "We stop taking new orders at ten, and from then ponies can only order packaged snacks or drinks upstairs," he turns around to face the duo, "Look, I know you didn't ask for anything but I'd feel terrible if I just sent you away. Is there anything I can offer you? Our guys usually take leftovers with them, but from what I gathered you don't eat our food."

"We can taste it or make it change our goop. It just doesn't fill us up," 36658 shrugs, "Unless you have any love, I'm out of ideas. 20100?"

"How would I even, ehh, feed you love?" asks a passing mare, "I heard rumors, but..." she lets the sentence hang. The drones don't notice it, but the overall movement in the kitchen slows down as everyone perks up their ears.

Even 20100 turns towards 36658.

"There are a bunch of ways the high ranks do it, I heard, but back in the lumber camp all we had to do was to be around ponies who liked us or each other," the ponies exchange glances as 36658 pauses, "Wait! We can just use a treasured item or something."

"Hmm, would this be enough?" the head chef pulls out a laminated picture of a mare out of his saddlebag. When 36658 sniffs it, he adds, "I hope you don't literally eat it. I mean, chew it or similar."

"Oh no no no," 36658 shakes its head and starts absorbing the love surrounding the picture, "I'll just hold it for a while and then I'll share my love with 20100. You okay with second-hoof, 20100?"

"Hmm?" 20100 turns its head away from a pile of waiter notepads it's been looking at, "Sure, go for it," it walks over to the head chef and pokes his leg, "Umm, does that count as something you'd give us?" it points at the pile.

"A notepad?" the head chef asks, shrugging, "Sure."

20100's eyes light up as it rushes over to the table and swipes the ring-bound notepad. It spreads its wings, and several smudged pieces of paper glued together on one end with goop fall out from a nook in the drone's carapace along with a tiny nub of a pencil. 20100 picks both up and shows them to the curious chef.