//------------------------------//
// 8 The Queen's Vaults 
// Story: Alternate Beginnings: Year Five 
// by Doug Graves 
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March 4th, 997

An emergency missive? From Ponyville? Eight weeks after their earlier visit? Queen Chrysalis stomps into the auditorium; despite the pre-dawn time, dozens of her subjects are milling in their seats, awaiting her upcoming orders. "This had better be good," she snaps at the closest guard, moving forward to take the offered letter, "I was deep undercover! With that identity blown, I'll need a whole new one in order to try to infiltrate the Manehattan guard!" She huffs, "And we are low on love as it is! We cannot afford any waste, not with the disruption we had!"

She rips the letter open, eyes slowing growing wider as she reads the contents. "What?" her eyes scan back and forth, "How?" She gets to the end, flips the letter over; seeing nothing on the reverse side, she flips it back over.

"How did this happen? You!" She points at one of the changelings, "I used the spell on him! And we used potions on the two unicorns! How did he retain his memory of the event?"

The changeling stands, "Queen, I do not know; the effects of the spell seemed the same, as if everything was normal. The potions worked perfectly on the two unicorns. Maybe the spell only obscured the final memories of us; it was just the initial scuffle, after all, with the unicorns."

Queen Chrysalis paces back and forth, "Did we lose track of time? Did it take too long, his memories already subsumed to his unconsciousness? Or because he isn't a pony, and we used the wrong spell?" She glares down at the fallen letter, stamping a hoof on it. "Why now?"

"I am sorry, Queen," the changeling stammers, "I only know of the one spell, to cloud a pony's memory. It has occasionally proven... less than sufficient on other races. And with the amount of time we interacted with him-"

Queen Chrysalis slams a hoof down on the floor, cracking the stone. She grits her teeth, blasts of light flinging from her horn and impacting the ceiling, the walls, the benches recently vacated by changelings. Finally, she slowly exhales, the burst of anger fading. She mutters to herself, "I might need to inspect that crystal again, make sure I've fully purged the emotions from my core." She shakes her head, glancing back to her changelings, "Very well. It is too late to do anything about it." She looks over her brood, "Now, we must initiate contingency plan CFO. I need drafts to all our infiltrators and integrators, informing them that Operation 'Cough' is in effect. Daily dead-ling switches, for all of them. Deadline sunset, maximum destruction, targeting infrastructure. Cover assumed to be blown."

The changeling queen shakes her head at the waste, but it has to be done, now that Celestia found out. If only to give her a bargaining chip in the upcoming... well, she hopes it is a summit. Instead of an extermination. But, knowing the softhearted Princess, the likelihood of that is the same as her surrendering peacefully to the Solar Tyrant. And there would be no retreat, not for her, not for her changelings. Her mouth draws to a sneer - and not for Equestria.

Meanwhile, in Canterlot, Princess Celestia holds her hooves to the sides of her head, staring down at the long lists of ponies, locations, and dates of birth. Times of transfer between cities and towns. Some of these documents must be forgeries, as occasionally the dates and names do not match up, but either the quality is exquisite or there is a changeling disguised in Trottingham, working in one of the offices. She covers her eyes with her hooves; if only they were limited to one infiltrator. And only in Trottingham. But even she does not know how wide the spread is, how deep these tendrils are burrowed. The few instances where she or Cadance investigated one of the discrepancies turned out to be mere clerical errors. And there are hundreds of such errors.

She looks back at the documents; maybe if she is able to figure out which pony is the impostor, she can track down all of the falsified birth certificates. But there would have been so many that are legitimate, there would be too many false positives. They had already checked out the ponies who made the certificates the three changelings had obtained, and all were busts. And if her guards start inquiring as to the whereabouts of ponies from Trottingham, it could be worse than the cost of just letting the changelings continue doing... whatever it is they are doing.

Celestia scans a compilation of news articles. No unexplained deaths. No massive increase in assaults, or robbery, or even unwanted sexual contact! Barely even an increase in those statistics, at all! She lets out a long sigh, her head thudding against the table; if only it is as easy to find the changelings as it is to move the sun. Maybe she was a little hasty in her calling out the Changeling Queen. Then again, maybe not.

The clop of hooves rouses the Sun Princess, a glance to the door revealing Princess Cadance bringing another stack of papers. Cadance takes a sip of her coffee before putting a second thermos just out of hooves reach. "You know," the Love Princess intones, "if I complained about you burning the candle at both ends, you would just say that you generate enough light for everypony regardless of how many candles are burning, and I should go back to gathering these useless papers, searching for more leads."

Princess Celestia nods. "True." She reaches for the thermos, Cadance swiping it out of range.

"And, if I pointed out that we have caught two changelings after we left Ponyville, the fruits of spending six hours researching, and two hours searching, then you would probably say something about how we're getting better the longer we search."

"Also true." Princess Celestia strains, reaching as far as her seated position allows, a look of grim determination. She pushes further, getting up from her seat and waving her hooves back and forth at the beverage, the table in her way.

"But, I also think we've exhausted the easy leads." Cadance sighs, allowing the elder alicorn the steaming treat. "The three we've found have all been transfers from Trottingham." Celestia slurps noisily at the beverage, a few boiling drops escaping her lips. "The last two were very recent transfers. Ponies, our ponies, are noticing something is wrong, and it is doing more harm than finding the rest of her changelings. At least we know where her hive is."

Celestia responds by conjuring a straw and loudly sucking from the empty container.

"You are a foal sometimes and you know it."

Celestia shrugs before giving a long sigh, "I suppose you are right." She lifts the thermos, chucking it at Cadance, the pink alicorn dodging to the side. "Off to bed, then."

Cadance shakes her head, "Oh, no, it's past that. Time to raise the sun, then you have a nice, long day of meeting with all those patient and understanding nobleponies."

"Awww. Five more minutes. Can i go to my room instead? Please?" Celestia gives Cadance a look of utter contriteness and repentance, the look only broken when her thermos hits her between the eyes.