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Fast Ponies, Faster Fingers

by TheDriderPony

Chapter 5: Like Your Life Depended On It [Comedy] [Changelings] [Bon Bon]

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In the depths of the badlands, far underground and away from the sweltering heat of the blistering sun, a score of ponies sweated profusely.

Their faces strained and stretched, muscles twitching and aching from the pain of their labor. Their efforts were met with moderated and polite disapproval.

“You call that smiling?!” A changeling roared in their faces, green spittle flying like arrows from a hwacha. “My rotting granny can smile better than that, and she lost her head to an Equestrian sniper mage!”

The side of one mouth quavered, only for the briefest of moments, but it was not missed by the eagle-eyed changeling.

“Scout Lacewing!”

“Sir!” The pony squeaked, as all ponies were known to do.

The changeling pointed at Lacewing’s face. “And what exactly do you call that?”

The unicorn continued to smile like she was being held at charged hornpoint, parting her teeth only barely enough to speak. “A smile, sir!”

“A smile? A pony smile?”

“Sir, yes, sir!”

“That doesn’t look like a genuine pony smile to me. Looks like you just soiled yourself on a train and are praying to every star in the sky that no one realizes it was you. Tell me scout, did you or did you not soil yourself?”

“Sir, no sir!”

“Then stop making that face and smile!” He scowled as he continued down the line. “By the Queen, if this is the best the broodmothers have to offer, we might as well just go present ourselves to the ponies trussed up on a silver platter.”

The room was silent, save for the soft scratching of quill on parchment. A lone changeling stood in the corner, away from the primary group, writing something down quickly on a stone clipboard. Noticing the uptick in note-taking, the changeling with the inexhaustible voice became curious.

“Everyling, stand down.” As one, the faces of every pony in the room drooped like puppets whose strings had been cut. “You all get five minutes rest, which is more than you miserable grubs deserve. I suggest you use this time to work in small teams to improve your smiles. And if I don’t see a genuine, authentic, pony smile from every last one of you by the end of today’s training then you’re all scrubbing the resin pits till your chitin’s worn down to the nub!”

With his final warning in place, he turned and approached the silent observer. Said observer showed no sign of noticing him, other than continuing to write. “Inspector Dragonfly. I wasn’t expecting to see you for another week.”

The inspector looked up from his page and pushed an almost comically small pair of glasses up his muzzle. “Queen’s orders, Sergeant Stag. She wanted a fresh report on the progress of the recruits.”

Sergeant Stag spat on the ground. “Bunch of honey-sucking grubs, the lot of them. Most can barely hold a disguise together and those that can can’t act to save their elytras.” He grinned with dark intent. “But don’t you worry, I’ll whip them into shape one way or another.”

Dragonfly pushed up his glasses again, nonplussed. “Quite.” He glanced down at his page. “A question, Sergeant.”

“Shoot.”

“Why the emphasis on smiling?”

Stag paused for a moment before nodding in realization. “Ah, you’re a hive worker. Never been beyond the walls, eh?” His gruff voice softened to something that almost sounded like an emotion other than furious. “Let me tell you then: We lose more changelings to bad smiles than any other type of cover blowing.”

Dragonfly’s eyes widened and he lost his magical grip on his quill. “From smiling? Surely not. How could that be poss-”

“It’s the nature of ponies, you see.” Stag clarified, “We all know they’re insipid little fools with barely the brainpower to keep a society going, but very few changelings realize just how dim they really are. Their brains are so tiny, they literally cannot experience anything beyond the barest surface level of emotions. Anything beyond blissful, simpering smiling is completely beyond them.”

“Sweet Queen…” Dragonfly muttered, “That sounds horrific.”

“Oh it is. We’re practically doing them a kindness when we pod ‘em. Gives ‘em a purpose at least. But we changelings on the other hand, well, obviously we have a much deeper experience of life than ponies do. That’s why failing to smile properly gets so many young infiltrators caught. They don’t have the fortitude to keep up that level of vapid euphoria for very long. That’s why you have to beat it into ‘em!”

A sudden clattering noise caught his attention and he whipped his head around back to his recruits. “Hey! Who told you you could bring food in here? That’s it, break’s over! Everyling back in line!” He turned back for a moment as twenty ponies, changeling, and half-transformed inbetweens scurried back into place, cursing not quite as quietly as they thought they were. “Excuse me, inspector, I need to get back to drilling these nymphs on how to not die from their own incompetence. If you’re going to continue-”

“No need.” Inspector Dragonfly snapped his portable inkwell shut and tucked away his quill. “I believe I have all I need. I’ll leave you to your work.”

Dragonfly turned and walked back into one of the many labyrinthine hallways that made up the lower depths of the hive. Behind him, he could hear Stag beginning to shout again.

“So, you think you can grab a quick snack while my back is turned? Well let’s see just who’s so hungry then! Forms up! Teeth out! Let’s see those pearly fangs! And for the love of love, smile like you mean it!”

Dragonfly continued down the corridor as the shouting faded into the distance. He passed countless other changelings and branching tunnels until both began to peter out. Soon they were alone in a disused portion of the hive, half-collapsed from an earthquake. Then, and only then, did they risk tapping a small magical gemstone hidden deep in their ear.

“Mission control? Come in mission control.”

After a small burst of static that made them wince, a tinny voice replied. “This is mission control. The line is secure. Go ahead.”

Dragonfly sighed. When he spoke again, his voice was decidedly more feminine. “This is Agent Drops, reporting in. I have the confirmation we came for. The disinformation campaign was successful.”

“Excellent news, Agent. The Crown will be most glad to hear it.”

If the Crown cared that much, they’d have sent more agents than one lone mare, she thought, but chose to remain professional and keep such things to herself. “I’m at the extraction point. Are we go for teleport?”

There was a short pause before the reply. “Beacons are all green. Drop the guise and we’ll teleport on your mark.”

The changeling inspector checked her surroundings one last time and dropped her disguise with a shimmering wave of light. Agent Sweetie Drops tapped her communicator once more. “I’m clear. Beam me up, Agent Biscotti.”

Author's Notes:

Original Prompt" Smile like you mean it
Original Contest Date: October 11, 2019
Second Place

Next Chapter: The Fine's Line [Comedy] [Meme] [Celestia] [Luna] Estimated time remaining: 22 Minutes
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