The cool winter sun shone down on Spindle and her three companions as they made their way through the badlands. The hard desert path crunched under their hooves and their cart, filling the silence between them.
Spindle walked next to the cart’s wooden wheel, her hooves nearly dragging on the ground as she pushed onward. It had been almost two weeks since her search and rescue team last stayed at any kind of motel or hostel and she was very aware of how much her posture showed it. She was more than ready for her several-day break back at the hive.
As much as her hooves ached from the walk, she gratefully eyed the disguised changeling pulling the cart and was very glad it wasn’t her turn to pull it on their final day. Glancing up to the sky, she was even more grateful it wasn’t her turn to be on watch. Flying around as a bird for hours on end as she kept an eye out for other travelers was equally exhausting. Due to their love shortage, they had to keep transformations to a minimum, so they couldn’t even take turns if they wanted to.
A crack and sudden pain in her hooves drew her attention back to the ground. The corner of her eyes caught sight of the skipping rock as it disappeared under the cart. A tiny moment later and a low yelp came from the front of the cart.
“Hey, watch it, would you?” Her grey coated companion pulling the cart glared back at her.
“Sorry, Instar.” Spindle offered him a sympathetic smile.
A few grumbles came from him as he turned forward. “Whatever. I am so tired of this and I cannot wait until it’s over.”
“I agree,” another of her companions said from the other side of the cart. “I will also be grateful when we can put all this behind us.”
“Seriously, how many more times are they going to have us go out? It’s the middle of Winter, for Chrysalis’s sake!” Instar complained.
“However many times they need us to. The job isn’t fun, but it’s what the hive needs of us.”
“Yeah, but, Propolis,” Instar glanced over his shoulder opposite Spindle, “you know how difficult it is to find anything buried in all that snow back in Equestria. We barely managed to find these two!”
Spindle followed the head tilt he threw back at the tarp-covered cart and shuddered at the thought of what was underneath.
“Yes,” Propolis replied, “but those are two that wouldn’t have been found otherwise.”
“I’m not denying that, but, come on. Is it really worth it? I get it, we need to respect the dead and all, but we’re risking way more by sending a bunch of us out. It made sense when we were looking for those still alive. Not so much anymore.”
Propolis sighed. “You know full well why we’re making our best attempt to find all those that were lost.”
“And that doesn’t make any sense either!” Instar huffed. “I could see doing it for the first few weeks, but, what do you think Equestria’s gonna do with them now? There’s barely anything left to see!”
“It’s not merely about what’s there to see. There are many other reasons we are attempting to retrieve everyling. Perhaps one day, when you grow up, you’ll be able to look at things from the big picture.”
“I am plenty grown up!” Instar shouted back. “I finished my caste training last year!”
Spindle groaned quietly to herself. This group was the worst she’d been in so far. Their bickering had been one of the only constants on the assignment.
As stressful as it could get in Hoofington, she fully admitted to herself how much she missed that group. Even Tarsus with his constant disappointment in everyling. They at least felt like a group, unlike nearly every recovery team she’d been on since.
“Fourteen years old is not grown up.” Propolis deadpanned.
“If I can die in a cave-in as I dig a new chamber, I’m more than grown up enough for the hive.”
“Number one, you may be in the worker caste, but you’re a cook.”
“Yeah, but I could get reassigned to the diggers.”
“They’re called constructors and I doubt it. Second, it’s been at least a decade since the last cave in. And even if you were assigned to them and were required to risk your life for the hive, that doesn’t make you any more capable of conceptualizing ideas at scale. I’d barely consider the far-more-mature Spindle over there as ‘grown up,’ and she’s almost two years older than you.”
“Please don’t get me involved in this,” Spindle groaned aloud this time.
“Yeah, well,” Instar retorted over his shoulder again at Propolis, “all you do is sit in your little classroom all day and hate on workers.”
“I do not hate on anyling,” Propolis said. “Every caste has their purpose in the hive and workers are no different. Same with us educators, same with—”
A loud caw interrupted them as a raven flew down and landed on the front of the cart.
“Ah, good afternoon. We’re—” Propolis cut himself off. “Wait. Apidae, what are you doing?”
“I’m resting,” their fourth companion huffed, shuffling her black wings. “Plus, we’re like, ten minutes from the hive and there’s no other creatures around for kilometers.”
It was then Propolis’s turn to groan. “No, I mean, why are you a raven?”
“Uh, ‘cause I need to be a bird? So I can fly?”
“You’re not supposed to be a raven. The Guards are ravens. A lookout is supposed to be a red-tailed hawk. How long have you been disguised as that?”
“All day? No other team leader got mad at me for it, including you this morning when I started.”
“Oh, Chrysalis save me…” Propolis muttered. “I didn’t see you then and I bet none of the other team leads did either. Red-tailed hawks tend to fly in circles when seeking prey. Ravens are much more flighty, sporadic, and noisy. Did you not pay attention at all in the training for this?”
“Yeah, I did. But that was like, a ton of information crammed into a few weeks. How am I supposed to remember everything?”
“Because it’s important to your—our continued survival among ponies. Especially because the training was specifically for ‘lings like you and Instar who had never been out into Equestria before.” He let out a long, low sigh. “I swear, if they make me team lead of a bunch of teenagers again, I am going to lose my mind. Alright, just… get down and make yourself a unicorn. We’re about to move off the path. Spindle!”
“Yes, sir?” she called back.
“You ready to start covering?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. You’ll smooth over your side of the cart and Apidae will smooth over your and Instar’s hoofprints and whatever we miss.”
“Yeah, got it.” Apidae jumped off the back of the cart and transformed back into a pony.
The group fell silent again, much to Spindle’s relief. A couple minutes later, Instar pulled the cart to the side and onto the soft sand.
Spindle glanced back for a short moment as her horn lit up, her magic beginning to smooth out the cart’s tracks and her own hoofprints.
The sand felt nice under her hooves compared to the hardened path, but she knew from several trip’s worth of experience that the soft grains would quickly wear down her already exhausted limbs.
Several minutes of magic use later, Spindle’s head turned back to the sky at the sound of another caw. This time, the raven landed on top of the tarp-covered crates and hopped about as it eyed each one of them. A moment later and the scent of a new changeling’s pheromones filled Spindle’s nose.
“Good afternoon,” Propolis began from the other side of the cart. “We’re recovery team nine with a delivery.”
“Very well,” a feminine voice began. “Proceed to the cargo entrance.”
“Will do.”
The raven spread its wings and took off ahead of them.
Instar and the group continued straight and soon came upon a large, rocky outcropping. They traveled around behind it and stopped. On the opposite side laid a long-dead, felled tree and atop it perched the raven from before.
A loud caw came from the raven. “Cargo drop-off! Open the path!” Half a minute later, the raven took to the air as the tree became shrouded in a green glow. It floated to the side, revealing a trio of disguised unicorns, their horns lit with magic at the mouth of a cave.
Once the tree was out of the way, Spindle and the others followed Instar inside. A short ways into the cave, a group of guards disguised as coyotes laid off to the side and eyed them as they passed. Spindle gave them a little smile and nod.
Soon, darkness enveloped the group and Propolis spoke up, “Alright, we’re good. Feel free to drop your disguises.”
One after another, four green flashes of fire illuminated the cave and the darkly lit tunnel became clearly visible to Spindle’s changeling eyes. She continued along her side of the cart as they descended further underground.
A short trek later and the tunnel opened into a large, high ceilinged cave. On the far side sat numerous wide stalls, each labeled with a large number above them. Spindle’s eyes traveled down the row, the same eleven through twenty-six stalls still there since the first time she’d been in vehicle storage.
The stalls’ contents, however, caught her eye and her eyeridges furrowed in thought. She noticed a couple of the stalls had changelings loading or unloading carts, but she was more surprised to see that nearly all the stalls were full, many containing carts and carriages of all types and sizes. Glancing behind her, she saw eight of the ten stalls had something parked in them.
Since she’d started on the rescue teams a few months back, nearly every cart had been checked out for use outside the hive. With so many returned to their stalls, she couldn’t help but wonder what that meant. Their search and rescue efforts had been yielding less and less, but did this now mean life in the hive might be rearing to go back to normal?
Spindle very much hoped so.
“Here, pull off to the side,” Propolis spoke up, interrupting Spindle’s thoughts. “Let’s get our crystals out first.”
Instar tugged the cart aside as Propolis came around the back and lit his horn. The ropes securing the tarp came undone and he pulled it back before unlatching and lowering the tailgate.
Propolis then fluttered up onto the back of the cart next to Spindle. He pulled the top off one of the barrels, digging a hoof into it and began rooting around inside. “Come on, where are you,” he grunted, leaning deeper into the barrel.
“Ah! Here they are,” he said a moment later, slowly pulling his hoof out and carefully shaking the grains out of the holes in his hoof. After successfully preventing a mess, he turned and slung the bag. “Spindle, catch!”
She instinctively lit up her horn and immediately felt her magic slip off the bag. It clicked in her brain a split second later and she held out her hooves right as the bag reached her.
“Ack!” She fumbled with it before finally managing to pin it between both forehooves. Spindle growled up at Propolis, but, of course, he wasn’t paying her any attention as he magicked up the lid. After sending plenty of annoyance his way, she carefully maneuvered the thing rightside up in her fetlock and set it on the ground.
It still peeved her that they had to use those bags. She understood why, but that didn’t make their getting at their daily love ration any less irritating. Though she would admit it was far better than the alternative.
Said alternative was easily the most memorable portion of her second recovery team trip. The ponies had found out a couple weeks after the invasion that love crystals emanated a very specific frequency of magic, or at least that’s how she understood it.
Changelings at the hive had gotten to work on the eventual solution that was the magic-insulating fabric sitting in front of her. But while they were working the problem, the immediate solution had been to control where the love crystals went. That meant ‘lings taking turns keeping the crystals well outside the company of ponies. It swiftly became a very uncomfortable few weeks.
Though, even with all the discomfort they were subjected to, Spindle considered herself lucky the teams she was on always got assigned to unpopulated wilderness or areas around small towns. She shuddered to think of the nightmare that big cities like Cincinneghti or Manehatten must have been.
“Ah, I thought I heard some arrivals,” a voice called out behind and above them. “Welcome back. What team are you?”
Spindle turned to the wall they’d come in on and saw a changeling looking down at them from one of the office’s archways carved into the wall. The changeling hopped off the ledge and flew down, landing on the floor with a clipboard held in their foreleg. The scent of their pheromones wafted over and Spindle recognized them as the same mare that had greeted the last team she was on and at least half of her teams before that.
“Hello,” Propolis spoke up. “We’re recovery team nine. Where would you like the cart?”
The mare hummed and levitated up her clipboard. “Recovery team nine…” She flipped over a couple pages. “Here we are. You’re in stall seven.” She gestured to the second stall to the right of the entrance. “Place the cart inside with the rear end facing out.”
Instar began pulling the cart to its space while Spindle and Apidae walked over next to the stall. Apidae sat down and closed her eyes with a sigh while Spindle turned her attention to the other three.
“What contents are we looking at?” the storage worker asked as she followed behind Propolis with her clipboard and a short, well-used pencil set against the paper.
“We’ve got a tarp, six ropes, four sacks, three empty, one about three quarters full of solid food rations. Two tents, four sets of sleeping bags, and four saddlebags. Or, well,” he levitated a pair out and secured it to his back, “Three. I’ll return this to storage after we deliver the bag to the commissary.” He tilted his head to the bag of love crystals at Spindle’s hooves.
The mare nodded, writing on her clipboard. “Got it. What else?”
“There are three grain barrels as well. The rear-most barrel is only grain while the other two each contain an expired, resin-encased changeling.”
She continued writing on her clipboard as the cart came to a stop, followed by the loud clunk of Instar kicking the cart’s front stand down.
“And the bodies, are they whole? Missing any parts?”
Propolis shook his head. “Neither are missing anything, but both are significantly decayed.”
“Understood. No identification, then?”
“None that we could see.” Propolis shook his head as Instar walked out of the stall.
She wrote more down. “That’s sadly been the trend lately. Hopefully medical will be able to determine something. How about the condition of the cart?”
“The cart is in fair condition,” Propolis answered. “No big issues, though the rear hatch seems to be coming loose and a couple of the floorboards near the front rattle when not weighed down.
“It’s kinda pulling to the left, too,” Instar spoke up, rubbing at his side.
She jotted down more notes before looking back up. “Anything else?”
“No, that’s all I’ve noticed.”
“Alright!” she slid the pencil under the clipboard’s clip. “That’s all I need. We’ll unload and transfer everything to their destinations. You’re good to go.”
Propolis nodded before walking up beside Spindle, his magic opening one side of his saddlebags. “Mind putting the bag inside?”
Spindle nodded, gripping the bag in her fetlock and dropping it in.
He closed and secured the bag and turned to address the others. “Come on. Let’s report to the recovery lead so we can get our new team assignments and start our break.”
The trio followed their leader out the side of the depot and into the hive’s main thoroughfare.
Several other changelings were going about their business as the group made their way through the wide tunnel, sparsely lit by luminescent patches of moss. They passed a few corridors, familiar lettering carved into the wall next to each of them. They caught Spindle’s eyes as they did every time. Vehicle Maintenance, Storage, and then Deliveries passed them by as they came up to the tunnel’s gradual decline.
Instead of walking down the path carved mostly for carts, she saw Propolis’s magic tug his saddlebag’s straps tight before he headed into a side tunnel. Ahead, it turned to a drop and he paused to look over the ledge, then stepped down the vertical wall.
Spindle and the other two followed, carefully walking behind him down the wall. They side stepped around the opening to the second level and the already modest temperature only got cooler the deeper they went. Propolis came to the third opening and, as before, he peeked into the entrance before stepping out onto the third floor’s ceiling.
Nodding to Instar, Spindle waited for him to enter before she continued as well. As she stepped out onto the ceiling after him, she saw Propolis already making his way along the curved wall to the floor. Instar, meanwhile, got three steps into the tunnel before he let go of the ceiling, whipped his body around, and landed onto the floor with a loud clack, before casually walking onward.
Spindle rolled her eyes and could feel his smirk through the pride he let through. Showoff.
She decided to be more practical and follow her leader’s suit, walking at a diagonal until she was level with gravity once more. From the lack of anything other than soft clops, Apidae decided to do the same.
They continued down the hall, passing one crossing hall before turning down the next hall labeled Administration. Beyond, a wooden door and frame on the right contrasted with the hard, earthen walls with the word Controller on it. A door labeled Infiltrator came next on the left. Military after that on the right before she passed to the one door she both dreaded and couldn’t wait for.
The Collector’s door.
Every time she passed that door, anxiety crept over her, though she made sure to keep those emotions to herself. Being in Equestria was… terrifying and yet, at the same time, she missed it. She missed her—friends wasn’t the right word—she missed her fellow collectors. She was only there for a few months, but she missed Vexor’s stoic nature. She missed Skitter’s leadership and especially her cookies. She even missed Tarsus, if for no other reason than familiarity.
But the one she missed most was Firefly.
There weren’t very many changelings who went out of their way for others. It wasn’t necessary in the hive. You learned what you needed to learn, did what you needed to do, and that was it. With how few of them there were, changelings didn’t have the luxury of wasting time or resources.
While Firefly wasn’t the first changeling to spend her efforts on Spindle, she was, by far, the nicest. And that kindness was what Spindle missed about her the most.
She knew it was unlikely that she’d get reassigned to Hoofington again after the recovery was over. Even still, she would be the happiest ‘ling alive if she could just go back there and try one more time.
But, she quietly sighed as they arrived at their destination. Such things would have to wait until later.
Propolis knocked twice on the wooden door.
“Enter!” came a muffled voice from beyond.
He pulled down on the handle and pushed it open, walking in with Instar close on his tail.
Spindle followed, Apidae scuttling in behind her. The large room was nearly empty with enough space for at least fifteen comfortably. At the back sat a single, out-of-place metal desk with a changeling behind it, writing on a sheet of paper. Further back was the door that Spindle had never seen open in the dozen times she’d been in the room.
She figured Queen Chrysalis’s Recovery advisor must be rather busy to leave their office so rarely.
The Recovery advisor’s assistant glanced up from the desk and raised a single eyeridge before continuing with her paperwork. “Propolis.”
“Ma’am.” He nodded in return. “My team and I have returned with a successful recovery.”
She sighed, set down her pencil, and leaned back in her creaky chair. Her horn lit green and a drawer squeaked open, a thick binder floating up and opening on the table. “Your team was assigned fifty square kilometers north of Vanhoover, correct?”
“That is correct.”
“What were your findings?”
“As we made our initial stop at an inn in Vanhoover, we saw no signs of anti-changeling activity within the city. In the surrounding area, we found two long since deceased changelings, all body parts intact, though thoroughly decayed. One was approximately twenty five kilometers north-north-east of town and the other approximately forty-five kilometers north-east. Nothing else to report.”
She wrote down notes in the binder. “Very well.” She put the pencil down and flipped to the beginning of the binder. “Apidae, architect of the worker caste, Spindle, collector caste, and Instar, cook of the worker caste. Is this correct?” she glanced up at the three of them.
Spindle nodded while verbal affirmations came from the other two.
“Thank you for assisting the Recovery caste with this matter,” she said with the same dry tone. “We no longer have need of recovery team nine’s assistance. You three may report back to your caste leads for further assignment. Propolis, once you complete a performance report of your team members due within three days time, you may return to the educators.”
“Of course. I will get started first thing tomorrow morning.” Propolis turned and nodded at the other three.
Apidae and Instar left first, both heading further down the administration hall. Spindle exited and turned the opposite direction with Propolis behind her.
Midstep, it suddenly hit her. Four months of long days and cold, snowy nights and she was finally done. She would go back to being a collector, maybe get some training on what Equestria had become, and get sent back out.
It was very scary and yet just as exciting.
The liveliness of ponies mixed with the fear of discovery. The amazing food and drinks mixed with the challenge of finding a new source. Spas and suspicion. Freedom of an open world yet confinement to a single role.
She was ready and at the same time so very not ready. She was—
“Spindle!”
“Huh?” Spindle very ineloquently sputtered and turned her head around to find Propolis giving her an amused grin. “Uh, yes?”
“You’re a collector, right?”
“Yes…?” She half asked.
“Then was that not your caste’s office?” He tilted his head back behind him.
Spindle glanced beyond him and embarrassment immediately flooded her at the Collector sign on the door. She’d been so caught up in her own thoughts that she’d completely forgotten about her surroundings or even where she was going. Again. Again again. Pay attention, Spindle! She berated herself.
She turned around fully. “Yes, that would be my door. Thank you,” she said and gave him an awkward, little smile before walking past him.
“Hey, Spindle.”
Her head turned again to him. “Yeah?”
He gave her a smile and a bow of his head. “Good luck out there. You’re a good ‘ling and I hope Equestria treats you well.”
A genuine, flushed smile found itself on her face. “Thank you very much. I hope you all the best as well.”
He merely nodded in response before turning and walking down the hall.
Spindle faced the door and took a deep breath before slowly letting it out. She raised her hoof and placed two solid knocks on the wooden door.
What felt like ages passed before an “Enter!” came from beyond the door.
She grasped the handle and twisted, pushing open the door and stepping into the room. There were very little differences between the Recovery caste’s room and the Collector’s. The most notable of them were the thick, fancy-looking wooden desk instead of a squeaky metal one and several filing cabinets.
Paperwork covered nearly all of the desk, even more so than Recovery’s. It was the same as every other time she’d seen a caste lead’s office. Spindle often wondered if the administrative ‘lings did nothing but paperwork all day long. She kept a frown from forming at the thought.
Though, the not-frown turned into a smile at the ‘ling behind the desk, the Collector advisor’s assistant. She easily recognized Calypter, one of her favorite guest instructors in collector training. He only taught a few classroom portions, but he was always patient and explained things in ways that instantly clicked with Spindle.
“Hello,” Calypter greeted, “what can I do for you?”
“Hello, sir. My name is Spindle. I was assisting with the recovery efforts, but they have released my team back to our castes.”
“Ah, yes. Your file came across my desk recently.” He nodded and scooted back out of the chair. “We’ve been completely swamped since the invasion, so give me a moment to find it.”
“Uh, sure. No problem.” Spindle held back her grimace, only slightly disappointed that he hadn’t seemed to recognize her from training.
A several shifts of paper and a couple drawer searches later and he came back with a folder, setting it on his desk. “Here we are. Now let’s see what we’ve got.”
He looked through her paperwork, slowly reading and flipping through a few pages. “Ah. Hm. Give me a moment, if you would.”
She watched in confusion as Calypter grabbed the folder in his magic and scooted his chair back again. The confusion was swiftly steeped with fear as he trotted over to the Advisor’s door. He knocked once before entering and closing the door behind him.
Spindle only had one other time to compare it to, but when she got assigned to Hoofington, Calypter had looked through her folder, explained her assignment, and answered her questions. Nowhere in that time had he even so much as glanced at the advisor’s door.
She had no idea what he would have needed to discuss, but her imagination provided more than enough to make up for it.
Stop. Spindle cut herself off. Don’t even go there. For all you know, it could be because of something you did on a recovery assignment. Maybe one of the previous team leads wrote something good about you! Think positive!
She tried putting a smile on her face. She’d heard from somepony back in Hoofington that if you acted like you were happy, your mind would eventually follow along.
The smile became harder to keep as the minutes drew on and her traitorous brain kept trying to fill her mind with scenarios of all kinds. Mostly negative scenarios, of course, because she was pretty sure it hated her. Which, it was part of her, so that meant it also hated itself?
She shook the time-inappropriate thoughts from her head. Focus and stop thinking about dumb things. Instead she tried to think of nothing.
It didn’t work very well.
Finally, after what felt like eons, the advisor’s door opened again and Calypter stepped out.
“Spindle? Advisor Arista would like to see you now.”
“O-okay. Sure.” She tried to sound confident, but knew she likely came off as anything but.
He stood back from the door, allowing her to pass by into the room, before he pulled the door closed.
The room was half as large as the front area, but it had a ton more things. There was a fancy desk, chairs both behind and in front of the desk, a huge map of Equestria on the wall behind it with lots of pins and notes, two bookshelves filled with books, several filing cabinets, and even a couple trinkets scattered around.
But the most notable thing was the changeling sitting behind the desk, looking directly at her. He looked the same as any other changeling, but he felt so much more… imposing.
“Take a seat,” he said simply.
“Yes, sir.” She complied, walking over and sitting down on the chair she was pretty sure she’d seen in waiting rooms back in Equestria.
“You have been assisting with the Recovery caste for quite some time now,” Arista began. “I’ve heard good things about the work you did for them. You’ve shown yourself to be a hard worker and you do what needs done.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I similarly requested a statement regarding you from the Hoofington collectors, as well as a training report from the educators.”
Spindle fought to keep her confusion off her face and in her mind. She had never heard of the advisors reviewing a ‘ling’s history and she wasn’t sure if that meant she was exceptionally good… or bad.
“Overall, the Hoofington collectors spoke highly of you with the exception of some naivete. Not entirely unexpected of a sixteen year old changeling, collector or not. You managed to find a source within the first month and were able to become self-reliant within two. In training, you excelled at your exams. Easily the top ten percent of your class. Though, in practice, you were barely average with the most common markdowns being freezing, responding awkwardly or with inappropriate tones, and forgetting small details.”
Spindle tried to swallow what little saliva was left in her dry mouth. She had no idea what was going on. One second he praised her, the next he noted her flaws. Don’t panic. Keep yourself together. You need to show you can do this. You’re better than you were.
“Yes, sir. I learned a lot from training and from the collectors in Hoofington. I think those three months really helped soften some of my rough edges.”
Arista sighed. “Spindle, I’ll be straight with you. Based on everything I have read and heard about you, I think you have an exceptional attitude and drive. You want to do all you can to help the hive and I respect that. The issue at hoof here is that some of those rough edges, as you call them, can have consequences far more reaching than one might predict.
“I read the report the Queen’s scribe took based on your return to the hive.”
A chill shot up her spine and she clenched her jaw. She’d blindly hoped that would have simply gone away. She knew it was foolish, but she didn’t know what else to do.
Arista leaned back in his chair. “None of us blame you for what happened in Hoofington. Your decision to follow standard procedure, move to a new town, and request the hive’s assistance was perfectly sound. My letter containing post-invasion instructions had not yet reached Hoofington before your disguise was compromised.
“Sometimes, though, even with our best efforts, the world will still manage to overwhelm us.” His horn lit and her eyes snapped over to the binder opening. A few pages flipped over before he levitated out a piece of paper, setting it in front of her. “I trust you recognize this.”
Her eyeridges furrowed as she leaned in. The paper was folded in half, as if it had been in an envelope. She glanced at the top and began reading.
Dear Violet,
I’m really sorry to hear you’ve run into hard times. Unfortunately, Peppermint is out for the moment, so I’m—
She gasped and her eyes immediately grew wide in surprise. The letter! I left it back in Cincinneighti! How did—
Spindle glanced back up at Arista. “T-this is the response to my request for help when I was in Cincinneighti.”
He nodded. “That’s correct. Before this, the few examples of your inattentiveness have been fairly harmless. But our luck always catches up to us eventually.
“I’m sure you’re wondering how this letter ended up in your folder. There’s a reason we train every Equestria-bound changeling to make the best attempt at covering any traces of contact with the hive. This letter is a perfect example of what happens when that is forgone.”
“I-I’m sorry, sir,” Spindle managed. “I didn’t mean to leave it behind. It’s just, everything went wrong all at once and I… forgot.”
“Like I said,” Arista calmly reminded her, “none of us blame you for what happened. With that in mind, I want you to know the repercussions this simple action had, if for no other reason than to learn from your mistakes.”
Spindle gave a tiny nod. “Okay.”
He took a deep breath before starting, “After you left Cincinneighti, the manager of The Golden Inn reported the incident to the guard. They investigated and found the only thing left behind: this letter. They followed the only lead they had and collaborated with the Manehatten guard to find the sender.
“Now, the couriers are a clever bunch of changelings. They have to be to distribute and obfuscate everything from simple letters to this very desk in front of me.” Arista tapped his hoof on the solid wood. “They have very interesting measures to mitigate risk for this kind of snooping, but when a quarter of the whole Manehatten guard is trying to find you, things start to get very difficult, especially when there are no indicators of compromise.
“Eventually, the ponies hit their mark and were able to sniff out four couriers in Manehatten. Three were detained and the last managed to escape and notify the hive, but not until a full week had passed. During that time, the ponies set up shop and intercepted our mail. Thankfully, nearly every changeling assigned in Equestria had no reason to communicate with the hive, but not all. Two collectors in other cities were burned with one being taken into pony custody.
“Two infiltrator groups were dispatched and more than two weeks later, all changelings were extracted from custody along with several documents, including the very letter that started it all.”
Spindle didn’t know when the wetness had formed in her eyes as she stared at the letter in front of her. You did it again, Spindle. Good job screwing up. The tears threatened to spill from her eyes. Come on, have some dignity and do something right for once!
She looked back up at the advisor and fruitlessly swallowed down the lump in her throat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to cause so much trouble.”
“I know. As I said, we don’t blame you for that chaos four months ago.”
“I promise I’ll-I’ll pay more attention on my next assignment. I won’t let something like this happen again.”
Arista took a breath in and slowly sighed it back out. “Spindle, we’ve lost a lot of collectors over the last few months and the hive’s love supply is in very poor shape. The environment in Equestria is more tense than it has ever been and every collector still out there must exercise the utmost caution and care.
“With that in mind, I have received concurrence from Queen Chrysalis that having you return to Equestria is a risk we simply cannot take at this time.”
At those words, Spindle’s world fell out from under her and the tears came unbidden. “Oh,” was the only thing she could get out.
Becoming a collector, out there under the open sky, was the culmination of nearly half her life. She’d worked so hard in primary education just to be considered for the caste. And then, those four grueling years of collector training. All gone.
“Spindle,” Arista leaned forward, softly putting his hooves on the desk, “this is not a punishment. I think you are a good changeling and, again, I admire your work ethic. As the climate in Equestria stands, I think it is best for the hive that you be reassigned to another caste. I have spoken with several other advisors and, out of courtesy for you, I would like to give you a choice between them.
“The worker caste is always needing more bodies. You would most likely be assigned as a constructor or architect. Alternatively, the caretakers lost a few to the invasion and are short staffed. Every one of their members are fully diverse in grub and nymph care and pony maintenance. Similarly, a position has opened with the controllers. You would be working with advisors and their assistants for documentation and archiving. Out of those three, do you have a specific preference?”
“I, uh,” Spindle stammered and sniffed at the wetness in her nose, still trying to process everything. She’d never thought about being a member of any hive-based castes. Her sights had always been outside. Inside, though, she had no desire to work in an office all day, shuffling paper about. Nor did cave digging sound particularly appealing, even if cave ins were as rare as Propolis made them out to be. That only left…
“I guess caretakers,” Spindle said.
“Very well. I will have your paperwork transferred to them tomorrow. For your awareness, there currently are not enough caretaker educators, so I have been told you will be learning while working.”
“Okay.” Spindle tried to put a smile on, but even she could tell it could barely be called one.
“I think you have some great potential, Spindle. After things have settled down and you have a few more years under your wings, I would not be unwilling to reconsider you for the collectors again.”
“Okay,” she repeated. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Before I dismiss you, are there any questions you have for me?”
‘Uhm,” Spindle looked off to the side, trying to search her already frazzled brain. “I, uh, I don’t think—Oh!” She did remember one and looked back to Arista. “Before I came back from Manehatten, I ran into a foal and her mother.”
“Ah, yes. I remember reading about that. What would you like to know?”
“Did they… are the filly and her mother okay?”
“Hmm,” he hummed and turned to her binder, flipping through page after page. Finally, he pulled a few sheets out and began looking them over. “It says in the infiltrator’s report that Bright Resin was admitted to the hospital late that morning.” He flipped a page. “It appears that your venom only paralyzed her for a few hours and she was released after a couple days of monitoring. So yes,” he finished and put the papers back in her binder, “it appears they are.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Of course. Was there anything else?”
Spindle shook her head. “No, sir. That was it.”
“Very well.” He stood and Spindle took that as a hint to do the same. “I will inform the caretakers that you will report to them in four days’ time. Take the next three days to get accustomed to hive life again. You’re dismissed.”
Spindle nodded and turned, heading to the door with Arista following. Passing through the door, she glanced at the desk and saw Calypter look back to her and the door. She gave him a shaky smile and opened her mouth to speak.
“Calypter,” Arista called from behind her and Spindle’s mouth clicked shut. “My office, please.”
“Certainly, one moment to finish this note.”
Seeing it wasn’t a good time, Spindle trotted to the door and exited her now former caste’s office. Outside, she looked left and right down the hall and after seeing no one, she collapsed to her haunches and closed her eyes.
It didn’t feel real. It was silly of her, but she thought she’d be a collector for many years to come. Fantasies about having decades of experience and passing it on to other collectors had once roamed her mind. Now, though…
A wave of fatigue hit her and her body quickly reminded her that she’d only just returned from long days of travel. On shaky limbs, she stood and began her long trek to the quartermaster. She’d pass out in her assigned room, then maybe the next day she could cry it out.
Regardless of what she wanted, the next phase of her life started then and she needed to be ready for what it brought.