Rising pop singer Harmony Delight had been in many Manehattan venues over the past few years, and the current one was small enough to be classified as 'snug', but that was okay. It was just a gig to tide her over between major performances. Not that she needed the money; she was more risen than rising these days, and could comfortably afford a high-rise apartment. But there were different kinds of needs, and these little micro-concerts helped keep her fed, in a way most other artists never had to worry about.
Once the last song had been sung and the spotlights dimmed, Harmony took her bows to the sound of hooves stomping on wooden plates. "Thank you, everypony! I love you! I hope to see you again soon! Good night!"
She hurried into the wings, and then to the dressing room where her friend and makeup artist, Heavy Foundation, waited. He looked up with a smile, congratulations clearly on his mind. As soon as the door had closed behind her, however, she winced and pressed a hoof against her abdomen. "Chair. Chair. Chair."
Heavy quickly rushed to her side and helped her into the seat before the large mirror and examined her with concern. "You all right, filly?" he rumbled, voice like a thunderstorm.
She lay her head back and closed her eyes. "I'll be..." A twinge of pain made her hiss. "...I'll be fine. It'll pass. Just something I ate, I think."
He watched her for a moment, and indeed she began to relax as the pain faded. "Told you to lay off the cabbage rolls before a show," he said casually, though his eyes remained worried. The earth pony turned to his equipment case and began to carefully remove Harmony's stage makeup.
She snorted. "You sound like my mother."
"Yeah, when am I gonna get to meet this mystery mare?"
"Trust me, Vi. I'm doing you a favor by not bringing her by."
"C'mon, Harm, she can't be that bad. She raised you, after all, and you came out all right."
The unicorn laughed. "Oh, if you only knew..."
"Well, either way, I'm glad that you two have reconciled and are getting along now. Family's important."
Harmony paused thoughtfully. "Y'know what, Vi?" she said, sounding a little surprised, "I am too. I never thought I'd say it, but I actually like having her around. She's a pain in the neck, but... I dunno. It's a comfortable pain."
He nodded. "Family pain. I get it. And speakin' of pain, I'm gonna get you a carriage home when we're done here."
"Vi, I'm-"
"None of that. Don't want my favorite filly to put herself on the bench because of a tummyache. You go home and rest, hear?"
"Okay, okay." She smiled up at him. "Thanks, Vi."
"I gotchu, Harm." He held out a hoof, and she bumped hers into it.
The ride home was without incident, and the pain only briefly resurfaced during the elevator ride up to her apartment. She stepped through the door, very carefully closed it behind her...
...and then was surrounded by a burst of purple flame.
Gone was the cream-colored hide and sky blue mane. The figure in the unicorn's place was noticeably larger, her body dark and sleek. A worldly pony familiar with Queen Chrysalis would have seen similarities, but there were also discrepancies, such as a slightly smaller stature and a subtly different placement of holes in her legs and horn. They would be most likely to notice the significant change in coloration, toxic purple where Chrysalis was fungal green. This was also clearly a queen more acutely aware of her personal appearance than Chrysalis had ever been; her hair was well-styled and -washed, her hooves kept meticulously clean.
She sighed as the pain in her abdomen immediately subsided. It always did once Queen Spinnerette returned to her natural form.
Faint voices floated to her down the hallway leading to the living room, telling her that she had a guest, in addition to her rather permanent one. This raised no concerns about discovery; there was really only one creature it could be. "I'm home," she called, though not too loudly. Likely the pair were deep in a planning session, and it wouldn't do to disturb them.
She moved toward them, then noticed something out of place: an thin, unfamiliar book on the hallway table, usually reserved as a temporary resting place for advertisements and junk mail. With a curious frown, she picked it up in her magic field. The title read 'SO YOU'VE GOT A MEDICAL CUTIE MARK' in big, easy to read letters.
Now she could make out speech. "Okay, do you remember how to make blood?"
"Of course I remember!"
"And what's your blood pressure?"
A sigh, then in a sing-song voice: "The average pony blood pressure is one thirty five over one hundred."
"Good. Make sure to mix it up a little; if you give them the exact average every time, they'll get suspicious."
"I know, I know..."
And here was another book, this one considerably larger and on the ground, titled 'Gaitwell and Fetlock's Principles of Pony Physiology'. A brief glance through the pages showed the material to be rather dry and difficult to get through, and the scuffmark on its spine suggested that it had been thrown down the hall because of this.
"Oh, and I know you don't like to eat or drink, but you should have some water a couple of hours before your appointment."
"Whyever for?"
And here was the allegedly popular foal's game Procedure!, in which tiny wooden bones and organs (you know, for foals!) were removed from a false pony with a pair of metal tweezers, causing an obnoxious buzz with every mistake. This had been thrown so hard it was still embedded in the wall.
"In a cup?!"
"I'm afraid so. That's standard procedure these days, especially for a physical job like yours. They have to check for performance-enhancing potions."
Spinnerette moved forward to stand in the doorway, and in the living room observed a scene that would certainly bring down the full force of the Canterlot military, the Elements of Harmony, and whatever group of misfits Starlight Glimmer threw together this time if anypony else ever saw it.
In a large, plush chair that looked more throne than recliner, Queen Chrysalis sat surrounded by a variety of medical charts and textbooks. None of them looked particularly well-used, but an attempt was clearly being made. On an adjacent sofa sat Mandible, a reformed changeling in periwinkle and green, hatched from the same brood of eggs as Spinnerette some eighty years previous. He, too, was surrounded by books, but his seemed more thoughtfully chosen, while the ones around Chrysalis were apparently selected by how many bright and shiny colors could be worked onto the cover.
"That's ridiculous." the elder queen snapped. "Why would they care about that? It's not like I'd be getting some kind of advantage; it's all scripted anyway."
"Potions sometimes have a negative effect on the body. They're just protecting their investment. Also they wouldn't want your younger fans to find out; it's a bad look."
Chrysalis crossed her forelegs and hmphed. "But I don't need potions. I'm already far superior to any wretched pony!"
Mandible sighed and rubbed his forehead with a hoof. "I can't believe I have to explain this. Yes, you're a queen and queens are awesome. But as far as everypony else knows, you're a pegasus. A pegasus in really good condition, but just a pegasus. There's already been rumors that you take potions on the side, and while that helps build up your 'bad filly' reputation, management isn't going to want it to go too far."
"But it's so...!"
"It's just how it works these days, Mom. It's nothing embarrassing. Everypony has to do it."
"I never did," Spinnerette interjected.
The pair looked up, and Mandible smiled. "Oh, hey, Spin. Didn't hear you come in. And you never did because you never signed up with the big record companies like I said you should. You're a free agent, which means you also don't get any benefits."
She frowned. "Benefits of what?"
"...never mind."
"So, wait, am I hearing this correctly? Mother has to take a physical exam?"
He nodded. "EWF regulations. Mandatory yearly checkup, to make sure everything's running properly. Pro wrestling's rough on a body."
"A pony body," Chrysalis sneered. "Queens are made of sterner stuff."
"Yes, yes..."
"Isn't that, like, really dangerous, though?" Spinnerette pointed out. "If they find out she's not a pony..."
Mandbile gestured at the surrounding medical texts. "Which is why we're cramming, so she can make herself as close an approximation as possible. Anyway, I doubt it'll be super invasive or anything. Maybe a bone scrying to make sure she doesn't have any fractures, but that should be the worst of it."
"Even so..."
He shrugged. "Well, she can't keep working there if she doesn't do this. It's a risk we have to take. And if it all goes south, there's no ties between the Countess and Harmony Delight; she can just cut and run, and we'll try to find her something else to do again."
Spinnerette reflected briefly on the previous attempts to find gainful employment for Queen Chrysalis. "...pass me one of those books. I'll help."
They worked through the night to perfect Chrysalis' disguise, a task that only a queen could manage. Any drone could provide the outward appearance of a pony, but it took supreme control to plan out and maintain an entire network of internal organs and the supporting infrastructure to keep it going. Eventually, every vein and artery was in place, every organ where it should have been. This was probably an unnecessary extra effort, but none of them wanted to take any chances. Once they judged the disguise to be perfect, the three went to bed secure in a job well done.
Which was a shame. Because of all of the books in the apartment, only Gaitwell and Fetlock's Principles of Pony Physiology, abandoned and untouched in the hallway, covered the topic of pony biochemistry and all its related fields. It was an oversight that, had it been caught, might not have, in time, resulted in two of them screaming for their lives and fleeing headlong through the sewers beneath Manehattan.
Or perhaps it might have. You never know.
"And you're sure this doctor isn't Discord?"
"...I don't know what to tell you, Mom. I did a full background check on this guy, and he seems legit to me. He started practicing before Discord was set free, and I couldn't find any trace of scandal or weirdness. If he really is secretly Discord - which, let me remind you, I have no way to find out anyway - he's playing an uncharacteristically long game. He's just not that patient. Why are you so fixated on this idea?"
"No reason," Chrysalis growled.
"Look, I'm sure everything is going to be fine. Just go in there and do what they tell you. I'll be blending in somewhere nearby."
"I don't need a chaperone!"
"I'm not a chaperone, I'm backup. You used to trust me with that much, didn't you?"
Her expression suddenly softened by a few degrees in the warmth of remembrance. "...and more. You were always one of my favorite drones, Mandible. You were a credit to the hive."
The reformed changeling hesitated, and was surprised when this comment wasn't immediately followed by accusations of betrayal. "Then trust me with this now. If something happens, maybe I'll be able to smooth it over or call the doctor away or something."
She sighed. "Very well. Let's get this over with."
Shortly thereafter, the doors to the clinic's waiting room swung open. A few of the ponies in the waiting room glanced up, looked back at the magazines they were perusing... then back up, staring.
A receptionist at the front desk was busy filling out paperwork when the shadow fell over her. She peered over her spectacles and stared up at the midnight blue pegasus on the other side of the desk. While extremely well-muscled - it took a certain degree of power to grapple with a yak for the championship belt - the pegasus was by no means burly, a coiled snake rather than a charging buffalo. For anypony who saw beauty in fitness and definition, she was striking. She was also a good half-hoof taller than the average pony; not large to the same degree as even Princess Luna, but more than enough to stand out in a crowd.
The receptionist blinked in surprise. "Oh, my!" she said in a pronounced Van Hoover accent. "You're a big one, ain'tcha?"
"I am..." Dramatic pause. "...The Countess." Slightly less dramatic pause. "...I have an appointment."
"Ooo, I don't think we've ever had any royalty here!" the receptionist chirped, unfazed, and picked up a clipboard. "Let's getcha checked in here. You said your name is Countess...?" She waited expectantly.
"Yes."
"No, Countess What?"
"The Countess."
"I mean, what comes after 'Countess'?"
"The fallen bodies of my enemies, broken and beaten as they lay strewn in my wake! AHAHAHAHAHA!" There was no thunder outside as she laughed, but there should have been.
"...um..."
A more experienced staff member leaned over. "She's right here," the mare said, pointing at the clipboard. "She's from the EWF. We get their referrals. They like to stay in character."
"Oh! Wow, yeah. Just 'The Countess', sure enough. Alrighty then! And we got all your information already... just have a seat and we'll call you in when they're ready."
The Countess complied, finding a spot on the long, backless benches that stretched across the waiting room. Minutes passed, and a pair of elderly earth ponies checked in and took a seat on the bench in front of her, facing away. "You didn't have to come all this way with me, dear," the stallion said. "I know you're so busy."
"Oh, nonsense, sweetie," the mare scoffed. "Your health is the most important thing to me in the world."
He smiled at her, stars in his eyes. "I don't know what I did to deserve you, my darling. I just love you so much."
(Behind them, an ear twitched.)
"Not as much as I love you, my honeybunch! I'm just overflowing with love!"
"Well, I'm absolutely bursting with love, my cutie patootie!"
"You know what, my sugar dumpling? I bet there's isn't a couple in Equestria who has as much love as we do!"
"Uh-oh, my turtledove! Someone's tummy is rumbling!"
"Not my tummy, my precious, but you know I'd eat up anything you cook for me!"
"Oh, I can tell, my sugarlump! I can hear your drooling!"
"Well, I can feel your hot breath on my neck, my beloved! Someone's getting feisty!"
"Speak for yourself, my little cutsie wootsie pudding pie! That's quite the hungry growl I hear!"
"Oh, you!"
There was a loud clearing of the throat, and the Countess looked up from her position immediately behind the oblivious couple to see a rather nondescript janitor pony across the room. He locked gazes with her and shook his head slowly.
She gave him a pleading look and, after a quick glance at the couple, held her forehooves out, very close together. Just a little?
He shook his head more emphatically. No!
She hmphed and returned to her bench, trying to ignore the banquet being laid out right in front of her.
"Countess?" She looked toward the front desk, where a unicorn in nurse's scrubs stood waiting. "We're ready for you now."
"Thank Grogar," she muttered, and followed the nurse to a back room. She immediately disapproved of the place; it smelled chemical and sterile and wrong. It made her long for the deep mustiness of a proper hive.
"We're just going to do some quick checks and take some samples before the doctor sees you," the nurse said, with the air of somepony who had done this a million times but still wanted to appear bright and cheerful about the whole thing. "First, though, why don't you back into this little room here. Yes, that's right. Just above the funnel. Over the cup."
"You are doing so well," the nurse said, sensing the Countess' discomfort as various needles and medical devices were employed.
The Countess grumbled. "I am not a grub..." She caught herself quickly. "...foal to be coddled!"
"I know. But we're almost done, and then the doctor will go over everything with you. Now just stand behind this panel, please, facing toward the arrow."
She took her position, with the panel along her left side, and presently it began to glow and a mild tingling sensation spread across her skin. "And what does this one do?" she asked as casually as possible while her natural paranoia screamed to flee.
"It's a full-body ultrascry," the nurse told her, watching the device intently. "Just making sure all your bones and organs are okay."
"Yes. My organs are very well formed and positioned."
The nurse chuckled at this. "Just a few seconds, and..." The glow faded, and a photograph unscrolled from the machine's surface. "...done! Okay, just wait here, get comfortable on the examination bed if you want, and the doctor will see you as soon as possible."
This is always a lie, and it was a good twenty minutes before there was a knock on the door and a distinguished-looking stallion entered, wearing spectacles and a white coat, and sporting a well-trimmed beard and mane that in a pony would be described as salt-and-pepper, though on a zebra there was some question whether he'd been born with the coloration or if it was a sign of age. He gave the Countess a comforting smile. "I'm sorry it's taken such time to arrive," he said with a pronounced accent. "The city grows larger, our business does thrive. I'm Doctor Zakeem; I'll be your physician. Come, let us chat and discuss your condition."
She gave him a courteous, even regal nod, and he pulled a clipboard out of his saddlebag and laid it on a table. "Your blood work is pending; there's been a delay. You're otherwise healthy, I'm happy to say. Your bones are unbroken, of scars there's no trace. Your wings: not a feather is found out of place. I've seen many sportsponies come through my door, and Countess, you leave them all wanting for more."
She smiled. "Naturally."
He turned upon her a severe, cautioning look. "This is not to say that you cannot be harmed. You wrestlers do things that make others alarmed. Take care with your stunts, have sensible fear, and you'll still be fighting for many a year."
The Countess sighed. "Yes, I know." It was an annoyance; she knew her superior constitution was capable of feats that would make her fans adore her even more than they already did, thus increasing the supply of love she gathered during every performance, but the management refused to set her up with a flaming-ladder-on-flaming-table-covered-in-flaming-hooftacks match.
There was another knock, and the nurse peeked in. "Here's the blood work, Doctor. Fresh from the lab; sorry it took so long."
He smiled and took the paperwork from her. "It's no problem, nurse. It could have been worse."
She glanced at the Countess and winked, then said teasingly, "I do have a name, you know."
Dr. Zakeem gave her a pained look. "Yes, yes, Purple Orange, of that I'm aware. And though I don't use it, please know I still care."
She giggled. "I'm the bane of his existence," she told the Countess, then closed the door behind her as she left, a brief flash of violet fruit at her flank.
"Well, I suppose I'll be seeing you again next year, then," the Countess said, standing up. She considered any examination of her blood to be a mere formality; after all, she'd perfected the trick centuries ago, in a time when ponies assumed that a little cut could prove that somepony wasn't a changeling, which was true enough when dealing with the average drone. The fluid now in her veins, however, matched the genuine article in coloration, consistency, and even smell. She didn't know if it tasted the same, but that had been a test that had never been employed and seemed unlikely in this more enlightened age. She was certain that her artificial blood was completely indistinguishable from-
Zakeem gasped, and she turned toward him. "What is it?"
"You blood sugar level's incredibly low!" He raised a hoof to his temple in shock. "How are you still able to stand?! I don't know!"
Her eyes widened. "There's sugar in blood now?!"
"We have to act quickly! No, faster than that! You have to be given an IV drip, stat!"
"Doctor, please calm yourself. I feel perfectly fine. Just sign my paperwork to bring back to management, and you won't have to worry about-"
He shook his head roughly. "Oh, no, no, Miss Countess, that simply won't do!" He laid his forehead against her chest and tried to push the wrestler toward the examination table; this was like attempting to move a wall. "Just lie down and we'll have you feeling like new!"
The Countess scowled. "I said I'm fine!"
"It seems, my poor Countess, your state is quite serious! Your glucose deficiency's made you delirious!"
"Calm down!" she snapped. "Look, let me..." An idea occurred. "Wait, what's that over there?"
The doctor turned to look and the room was briefly lit up with green light. He looked back at her, puzzled; nothing had visibly changed. "Try tasting it again," she said, holding out a foreleg. "I'm sure it's sweet enough now."
His brow furrowed, but he gathered some items together and, with well-practiced movements, took her hoof and pricked it with a tiny needle. He collected the resulting drop of blood and brought it over to a small magical device, which hummed briefly. "Well?" she asked. "Is that better?"
Zakeem shook his head slowly. "Now your blood sugar's impossibly high! It's like it's entirely made up of pie!"
She frowned, starting to feel flustered. "Well, how much-"
But he had already turned back to the paperwork the nurse had brought in. "And that's not the only thing that I see wrong! Your red and white blood cells and platelets: all gone! No lipoproteins and no trace of potassium, no sodium, albumin, or even calcium! It's like you do not even have blood at all! Dear Countess, what keeps you from taking a fall?!"
His panic was infectious, the barrage of medical terms was making her head spin, and the feeling that she'd been woefully unprepared for this examination wasn't helping. After managing to make a name for herself as the Countess, she thought she'd started to put her days of abject failure behind her. Was simple biology going to unravel everything she'd done? "Doctor, please! I'm sure there's an explanation-!"
"Some way to explain it..." he said with a slow nod. "We'll have to run tests. I'll call in some specialists; for now you should rest."
More doctors?! She definitely did not want more eyes on her approximation of a pony. "That's really not necessary."
Zakeem hesitated, then nodded. "You're right. First and foremost, you're needing good care. We'll go to St. Clover's, examine you there."
That was the largest hospital in the city; definitely not what she wanted. "Stop!"
"We'll get you there quickly; I might even drive! Your state is one no normal mare could sur-"
That was it! In her overheated thought process, she thought of the perfect way to stop him from questioning her physical state. Green fire flared, and with wings spread wide Chrysalis loomed over the zebra, who stepped backward in shock. "Do I look like a normal mare to you?!" she demanded.
"Burning savannah!" He backed up further, upending a tray of equipment.
The clattering noise cut through the queen's thought processes, such as they were, and the two stared at each other for long moments. Her expression was slowly transformed into one of abject horror as she realized what she'd just done; his was already there. Another wave of green, and the Countess was back, looking small and ashamed. "...you saw nothing," she commanded.
It didn't work. "Y-you are Queen Chrysalis," he stammered, "the Thief of the Heart! My questions are many, with nowhere to start! You've taken the face of a wrestler, but why?" His face became set in determination, and he stood a bit taller, even as his legs trembled. "Whatever your scheme is, it's one I'll defy!"
She gave up and returned to her natural form. "Bold words," she sneered, purely by reflex, "from a mere physician! Braver ponies than you have stood up to me... and fallen!"
"I may not be young and I may not have might," he said, "but I'll still oppose you; I'll do what is right!"
"Then come, doctor! Let us see what a healer of ponies may do against the True Queen of the Changelings!"
They faced each other, unstoppable force versus all-too-moveable object, the tension rising...
There was a knock on the door, and Purple Orange opened it and scooted in. "You're making quite a ruckus in here, Dr. Zakeem!"
"Be cautious, my friend!" he warned. "There's villainy nigh! Go and seek aid! Raise a hue and a cry!"
The nurse closed the door behind her, and he didn't notice how she locked it. "What are you talking about? What villainy?"
Zakeem stared at her. "The Queen of the Changelings is standing before you! Inform the authorities now, I implore you!"
She looked around the room, her gaze seeming to pass over Chrysalis completely. "There's nobody here but you, Doctor."
"...I don't understand. She's standing right here! She wears no disguise; my vision is clear!"
"I don't know what to tell you. I mean, if it really were Chrysalis, she could turn into a little bug or something and leave whenever she wanted to." Despite this emphasis, the queen didn't move. Purple frowned slightly, but went on. "Anyway, why would she even be here?"
"...I'm not sure, I confess. But she was the Countess!"
"Her? She left a while ago. Doctor, are you feeling alright?"
He hesitated, still staring at Chrysalis, then shook his head. "No," he decided. "No, I'm sure that it's not a delusion. There must be some way to prove it's no illusion." He brightened as an idea hit him. "The samples we have; we can test them once more. Or check the machines, and the records they store."
Queen and mare stared at him, then exchanged glances. "I think that's it," Purple said finally. "The only way I could stop that is by breaking everything, and I'm not going to do that. Not for this. Those things are expensive, and ponies rely on his work." Chrysalis grunted.
Zakeem looked at her in confusion, then his ears went flat and he stepped back until his flank struck the wall as blue fire swept over the nurse. In her place now stood a changeling, with glowing blue eyes and sleek black chitin.
Chrysalis looked at him and nodded. She didn't need to be told that the sight of a reformed changeling in her company would only cause problems. "You look better like this," she said, and he snorted. "What took you so long? Things went awry over five minutes ago."
"The nurse was talking to that older couple just down the hall. I'm surprised you didn't hear them, though I guess that's why they didn't hear you. I couldn't exactly look like her until she left. What's going on, anyway?"
Before she could respond, Zakeem let out a hysterical little laugh. "Oh, I get it now! This must be a dream! That surely explains how odd it all seems! Yes, good one, dear Luna! This is quite the joke!" He looked at them again, a stallion with only the barest grip on his sanity. "...now I'll go to sleep, so I'm sooner awoke." The zebra jumped onto the examination bed and curled up, snoring loudly and theatrically.
"...the exam went... poorly." Chrysalis said finally, then nudged Mandible roughly. "Because somedrone didn't tell me how complicated blood is these days!"
"Hey, you're the one who said she remembered how to make it! And it's just blood, how complicated could it possibly-" A green field shoved the test results in his face, and after a few seconds of reading he let out a low whistle. "Okay. Yeah. Even you would have problems getting all this just right. So... what do you want to do now? Do we bail on the Countess?"
"...no. I've come too far to let something like this stop me. And I'm tired of slinking away in defeat."
"Fair enough. So what's the plan?"
She regarded the 'slumbering' form of Zakeem. "Normally, I would bundle him up and store him in my hive for later feasting..."
The snores became desperately louder.
"...but since I don't have a hive anymore, that would be difficult."
And Spinnerette would be furious, Mandible added mentally. "Should we just leave him? He seems willing to just write this whole thing off as a dream."
Astoundingly, zebras appeared to be able to nod vigorously in their sleep.
"Hmm. That doesn't solve my problem, though. The Countess needs that clean bill of health."
"...in that case, mind if I try some honesty? For what it's worth, I'm pretty sure we can trust him."
She made a face. "I disapprove on principle... but if you must."
The doctor found himself lifted up and flipped over on the bed. "C'mon now, doc. You're not dreaming and you're not fooling anyone." Zakeem reluctantly opened his eyes to find himself face to face with the drone. He started to squirm against the magic that held him, and the drone lifted a hoof placatingly. "Shh. Shh. Just calm down a minute and listen. I promise we're not here to hurt anypony."
He glanced fearfully up at Chrysalis, who had started nosing through the various apparatus in the room. "But-"
"Yeah, I know what she said. Don't worry about it. She's just like that." The drone considered him for a moment, then continued. "Now, I bet you're thinking that she stole the identity of the Countess, right? For some grand scheme or another?" The doctor nodded hesitantly. "Well, she didn't. It's all her. The Countess didn't exist until a few moons ago. She's been in Manehattan this entire time. Have you heard of any ponies getting love-drained recently?"
"...I heard of a stallion out on the East Side. He'd ordered a pizza; was found siphoned dry."
"That was entirely deserved!" Chrysalis called out.
"...it kind of was," the drone admitted. "But nopony since then, right? That's because we found out a new way for her to feed. If she can put on any kind of performance and get ponies to enjoy watching it, she can take a little bit of love from each of them. And as the Countess, she's got an entire stadium of excited and happy ponies to tap into. She gets a meal, they get a show. Everypony gets just a tiny bit of love taken from them - they don't even notice - but when there's that many of them it's like three of four ponies' worth at once. Everycreature wins. Isn't that better than having her mug random ponies in alleyways and taking all of their love?"
The doctor felt the field around him fade, and he sat up. "I... suppose that has merit... but it's true? Do you swear it?"
"Drone's honor, doc. And that's why we're here. She can't feed like that unless she wrestles; we've tried everything else, believe me. And she can't wrestle unless you sign that little piece of paper clearing her for active duty. Just do this one little thing for us, and we'll be out of your mane."
He looked at the two of them, his panic slowly fading... but then closed his eyes. "...no."
"You dare-!" Chrysalis snarled.
Mandible lifted a hoof to forestall her. "I know you don't have any reason to believe me, but-"
"Your story rings true, and I'll honor your word," the doctor said, hopping down from the bed. "But now it is my turn to make myself heard. To falsify documents? No, that will not do. My integrity I shall not break, not for you." He gestured at Chrysalis. "Is she in good health? That remains to be seen. I've never in my life examined a queen! We've studied the new ones that they call reformed, but they're not the same type since they've been transformed. I can't, in good conscience, declare that she's fine... without added data on more of her kind."
The drone leaned back, then nodded. "I get it. I can respect that. So you need to evaluate another changeling first?"
"It must be a queen," Zakeem insisted. "One more of her caste. The physiological difference is vast. And two would be better, to find variation, though surely she's likely alone in this nation."
Queen and drone exchanged looks. "...she's never going to go for it," Mandible said.
"What choice do we have?" Chrysalis looked down at the zebra. "All right, doctor. Perform your evaluation of my true noble self, and then... you shall have your second queen."