//------------------------------//
// Maintenance Center: Day 43 
// Story: Dire Vale: Western Mine #12 
// by SymphonicSync 
//------------------------------//

"Just give me your report, Ditzy."

The pegasi kept the cheap grin on her face as she spoke. The sight sickened Sweetie Belle, but over the course of this past month, she was learning to stomach the mare's nauseous joy. Ditzy's voice remained as high pitched as her greeting while she answered "Well, the Doctor has bee-"

"Worker 509, Miss Doo." Sweetie Belle corrected her. The lines between the castes must be kept clear and enforced. Names created sympathy, and that led to informality. 

"Yes, the Doctor has been trying to finish a number of different projects. This morning, he completed repairs on a drill brought in by some colt." for a moment, the smile was gone as Ditzy tried to remember the name of the worker, "Oh well. I think they were from shift A."

"Worker 509!" Sweetie Belle called down from the catwalk, hoping to catch his ear over the din raised by his assortment of tools. He seemed unaware of her, still working on whatever broken machine was before him. "I'll have to go down there to talk to him. Do you have anything else to report?"

"Nothing of note, Miss Belle." The mare smiled once again, a strange feat as she had already been grinning nearly the entire time the overseer had been in the room. After a brief nod she added to her answer "However, it seems like some components for various equipment are still missing, the Doctor has been trying to find them or fashion replacements, but it seems like the resources required are also gone."

"I'll look into the possible thefts, now get back in the guard post. Your shift lasts until the end of the day." Sweetie Belle commanded the mare as she brushed past her on her walk towards the stairs that led to the main floor of the room. Opening the gate with the spell linked to the locking mechanism, she walked through and shut it behind her.

More than likely the old fool Time Turner, called Dr. Whooves by some of the other workers, had simply dropped whatever parts were missing. Equally as likely was that his peers had taken the parts to keep him locked away in the repair center, trying to fix machines that could not be. Either way, their use was unneeded without more workers being assigned to the mine, so the overseer was turning a blind eye to the happenings. It kept worker 509 and the guard assigned to him out of her mane. She walked over to near where the stallion was. "Worker 509!" she shouted, hoping to catch his attention without getting closer. The powered tools he used scared her. 

She had always harbored a slight phobia of such things. One day when she was a filly, she had accidentally stuck the need of a sewing machine through the edge of her hoof. She could remember Rarity comforting her, and- 

"Worker 509!" She walked up to the stallion and perhaps a little too aggressively tapped his shoulder. Fear is weakness, she thought, all can do without. As he turned to face her, she reached out and turned off the tool he had been using. It sputtered and slowly ground to a halt as he finally acknowledged her presence.

"Oh, hello Miss Belle. Can I help you?" He ended his greeting with the same smile Miss Doo had.

"I am your overseer, address me as such. What was the manner of the damage on the drill earlier? The guard said that it was brought in during shift A." She would not see one of the common workers treat her in such a casual manner. 

His vision turned upwards as he stroked his chin. "Well, I believe that the colt said he had dropped it. But given how the case was cracked, he likely landed on top of it. He was working on quite the bruise at the time. I'd say that a fight broke out"

Intrigued, Sweetie Belle pressed him for details "What was his designation?"

"I didn't ask, Overseer," the Doctor said as he began to look back to his work "His coat was blue, go ask for him."

Satisfied, Sweetie Belle walked a bit to the stairwell. Walking through the gate, she pondered on the maintenance pony's behavior for the day. As she approached the door to leave, she realized that she was surprised by their rather tame actions. Normally they were much more... random.

Brushing off her brief encounter with them, she walked over to her subordinate assigned to this wing of the mine. She still stood in nearly the same place the brawl had started at earlier. Hardly a mare, the unicorn stood a few inches below her in height. There were some years of difference in their age, but she had proven herself to Sweetie Belle as a competent worker despite her youth. "Anything to report?" Sweetie Belle asked kindly, knowing that a response was guaranteed to be detailed.

"Yes Ma'am. There was an altercation between a worker and a guard, but you resolved it before I could address her behavior. The correction was unprovoked. Also, workers 14A, 33A, 17A, 36B, 27B, and just now 43C have requested entrance to the maintenance center today."

Glad to finally receive some actual details, Sweetie Belle extended her questioning "Did any of those workers have a blue coat?"

The mare nodded, her orange locks fell out of place over the side of her face. Brushing her mane behind her ear, she continued "Worker 17A, brought a drill in for inspection. He was limping and had the start of a bruise, Ma'am. Also, I have rebuked a guard assigned to the south wing and will be filing a report for mandatory punishment later. I caught him abandoning his post."

"Very well, I look forward to reading it. Carry on." With that, Sweetie Belle walked away. That mare would make for an outstanding overseer in a few years' time. The guard in question was likely Pumpkin's own brother. Twins of a separate race born into a lower caste. It's only natural they'd wind up here in the western mine. Where all ponies of ill repute wound up to be forgotten. Pumpkin Cake would never truly rise out of this obscurity, but at least she may be able to replace Sweetie when, when...

Such things were not worth the thought. She had matters to tend to. With a trot, she kept on the path down the scaffolding.