For the past fifteen minutes, increasingly confused 387 has been hearing faint music inside its head. It started out of nowhere while he was busy inconspicuously following Chrysalis, now swimming in the biggest pool of the ship being openly stared at by several stallion bodyguards belonging to the Las Pegasus delegation.
He takes a sip of his cold, unflavored soda to combat the sunlight.
Makes me wonder how hard they'd be staring if she didn't bloat her hips just to lure them in. On the other hole, if ponies weren't so horny, our lives would be so much more difficult.
The intrusive theme inside his head shifts into a jaunty tune of a leading fiddle mixed with modern string instruments, which prompts 387 to finally take action.
I like the music, but what in all holes is it doing in my head?
As an experiment, he hides his mental presence entirely and the music stops.
Okay, so someone wasting love by... broadcasting music through the hive mind? I swear, if I have to refill someone this early in the day I'm gonna slap a drone.
93 is currently... observing a card game inside? Looks like it's between a unicorn from Stalliongrad and some griffon.
10013 is... attending some sort of a lecture? Weird but okay.
20100... has so far earned 12 bits by drawing portraits of ponies? I'm sorry, what?!
36658 is helping some zebra mix potions. Go figure.
99111 is helping fix a door for that unicorn Smiley saved. Speaking of the Silent, it just drew a simple facsimile of a smiling face on a blackboard in the workshop with a piece of chalk it got holes know where. Hmmm, that gives me an idea.
99526- ah, that's where the music is coming from. Wait, no. It's nearby, but that's not it. 99526 is just...
387 looks back at the filling up deck spread behind him and locates the drone in question who is busy swabbing the floor near one of the many bars. 99526 catches him looking and waves.
"Hi, is there a problem?" it asks, "I got a sweet fizzy juice from the nice bartender and I can lick anything anyone spills or drops on the floor. All I gotta do is make sure it's clean around here afterwards."
"Just... just sniff anything that drops on the floor first in case it's unhealthy to changelings or something," 387 sighs, mentally counting off the minutes until someone inevitably tries to poison the drone.
"I sure will."
As the drone resumes mopping, 387 finally finds what's been looking for, which is 99380, sitting on the counter of said bar, humming and bobbing its head from side to side with the tune playing in 387's mind. Surprisingly, no one seems to mind.
The warrior checks the drone's love level and finds it absolutely satisfactory. Several brief memory checks later, he ascertains that it's not because the drone is being refilled but rather because the broadcasting isn't draining almost any of its resources. Drones aren't normally skilled at mental communication enough to do it without exhausting themselves, if overused.
"99380, why are you broadcasting the music?" he asks.
"Oh right, I was doing that," replies the drone and the music stops, "Miss 93 asked me to try it earlier and we ended up sitting here and listening to the talky box. Did you know that the Maretime Bay's sea crest festival will be hosting hippogriffs this year? I don't know what those are but the Fuzzy lady was really excited about 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...
