"Stay late at the clinic tomorrow. We'll have her come by when you're alone."
It was not a very good day for Dr. Zakeem. Having come face-to-face with one of the most infamous villains in Equestria had left him unsettled, to put it mildly, and the upcoming meeting with a heretofore unknown changeling queen wasn't helping. He found himself jumping at every knock, twitching at every movement in the corner of his eye. And with every patient he saw, he had to ask himself: is this her?
Finally the clinic closed for lunch, and he found himself alone in his office, picking at his peanut stew.
He wasn't sure what he'd been thinking when he'd made the request to examine a second queen. It had been a foolish, impossible request, one he'd had no reason to expect could be fulfilled. Another stallion may have used that as an excuse to avoid assisting Chrysalis with whatever plan she was enacting and hopefully avoid her wrath. That just wasn't how he did things, though. He couldn't possibly get a large enough sample size to determine a baseline (and if he did, having that many queens around would probably spell doom for the entire city), but he felt he had to at least make an effort to uphold the spirit of the task he'd been given. Fortunately the evaluation form was sparse on details; as long as he could confirm that she was in good health and free of potions, the EWF didn't much care about the particulars.
And... he had to admit, if only to himself, that the thought of an entirely... well, not a new species, certainly, but one as yet unconsidered by modern medicine... it was intriguing. From the drone's explanation while Zakeem was conducting the examination of his queen, she could consciously manipulate her body down to the cellular level. What diseases could such a being ever have? Did that control apply to her natural body as well, or just when she changed shape? How, when you got right down to it, did it all work?
Magic, he thought, a bit sourly. Medicine, and science in general, had made great strides in recent decades, but some things just came down to 'it works because it's magic'. Oh, magic was all well and good - it wasn't as though he was one of those weird naturalists who denied it even existed - but of the two, he preferred science, which made him something of an outlier among the zebra population... especially in the minds of his Manehattan patients, who often expected his remedies to arrive in the form of a fresh-brewed bottle of mystery.
Ask any pony off the street what they knew about zebras, and you'd like as not receive a common answer: "They rhyme and they make potions." Well, the first was true enough, but only dedicated alchemists could do much more than brew the occasional indigestion cure or sleep aid. And there were so many variables involved in potion-making as well, so many different ingredients and procedures depending on the time of year, the phase of the Moon - and Luna's return had required some reconsideration on that score - and a myriad other factors that often bordered on the ridiculous. That's what made self-improvement potions so notorious; if the brewer's skill wasn't up to snuff, the side effects could be dire. But if you lived in Zebrabwe and were interested in the healing arts, you learned alchemy. So he'd come to Equestria, studied medicine, graduated with honors, and never looked back. Except to make rude gestures at those who'd said a zebra from the sticks could never equal a pony enhanced by the right cutie mark.
And now he was potentially committing treason against his adopted home.
Why in the world had he agreed to this? But the drone had been so blasted persuasive. And try as he might, Zakeem couldn't think of any kind of grand scheme to take over the country that involved pretending to be a wrestler, though admittedly world domination had never been a subject of interest to him (except for a few months in pre-med, but everypony went through that stage, didn't they?). Plus (and even he admitted this wasn't the best of reasons) they could have done horrible things to him, but barely even brought up the possibility. They were willing to trust him - something that he'd heard came difficult to the changeling queen - and he'd given them his word.
So... he'd play along for now. And if their intentions proved foul, he'd inform the police, and let Canterlot take care of the rest. Even if it meant spending the rest of his life wondering if every pony he saw was one of them, seeking revenge...
"Got a minute, Z?"
The sudden interruption of his train of thought made him jump, and he accidentally knocked his bowl of stew off the desk. Before it reached the ground, however, it was caught by a soft amber glow. "Whoa, easy there, Z! I got you." The food was lifted up and deposited back before him with nary a drop spilled.
Zakeem looked up to see, as he'd expected, the familiar and perfectly-coiffed form of his colleague at the clinic, Dr. Hale Goodmane. Maybe it was a generational thing - the unicorn was about half his age - but the zebra was a bit ashamed that he had never really taken to the other doctor, and couldn't quite verbalize why. Goodmane was unfailingly friendly and polite, quite skilled at medicine, and donated one weekend every month to a foal's hospital in the Pronx. Yet something about him set Zakeem's teeth on edge. Perhaps it was the way the caduceus on the pony's flanks sometimes seemed gilded, the serpents' eyes gleaming like rubies...
Regardless, courtesy was also part of his nature. "I thank you for saving my meal, Dr. Hale," he said. "So what brings you hither? How can I avail?"
Instead of answering, Goodmane stepped further into the office. With his eyes fixed on the zebra, his horn glowed and the door's simple lock was magically engaged. It wouldn't keep Zakeem in, of course, but it would ensure their privacy. He shifted uneasily at his colleague's continued silence and approach. Finally, the unicorn chuckled. "Well, well, well. Now there's something I thought I'd never see."
"I don't-"
"The noble and scrupulous Dr. Zakeem..." He leaned a bit closer. "...with a guilty conscience."
The zebra flinched, horribly aware of what a terrible poker face he had. "I haven't the slightest idea what you mean," he tried. "My conduct is spotless; my conscience is clean."
Hale only smirked at this. "Right. So clean that you've been a jumpy mess all day long. Poor Purple just had a word with me; you really shouldn't worry your nurse like that." He paused, then tilted his head slightly. "Did you know your ears go back when you're trying to hide something?"
As Zakeem flushed and tried to reorient his ears, Goodmane laughed. "Relax! Relax! We're both stallions of the world here. We both know how to grab an opportunity when it presents itself, am I right?"
The zebra's brow furrowed. "...my understanding is weak. Of what topic do you speak?"
Hale leaned closer, spoke quietly. "It was the Countess, wasn't it?" He watched as another guilty flinch possessed Zakeem. "Thought so. You took a lot of extra time with her yesterday, didn't you?"
Zakeem tried to come up with an excuse, but that had never been one of his strong suits either. "...there were complications with some of the tests," he said, which was uncomfortably close to a lie; the tests were fine, the patient was complicated. "I'm sorry if taking my time caused distress."
Goodmane shook his head knowingly. "That doesn't exactly explain why you're so nervous, now does it, Z? You dumped your food when I came in, and you keep glancing at the door. Are you worried about someone showing up?"
He looked away, unable to respond. He doesn't know... he can't know...
Finally his colleague stepped back with a grin. "Gotta admit, though, this puts my mind at ease a bit. Turns out we've got something in common after all, despite that goody-four-shoes act of yours."
Zakeem stared at Goodmane in confusion. "...what?"
"I mean, I always wondered what would happen if one of the wrestlers came to you and failed their potion test."
"What?!"
"It happens more often than you'd think. Their bodies take a lot of abuse; a potion here and there can keep them in good fighting form. Personally, I think the Federation is overly strict in this regard, but I never say no to a little extra pocket change from rigging a few numbers. I figured brand-new talent like the Countess wouldn't be on the potion train yet, but shows what I know."
Zakeem stared at his colleague, completely unsure of how to feel at this point. "You... think that I wrangled a bargain with her?! To alter her lab work to show that she's pure?"
"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Hale said soothingly. "We've all done it. It's just a perk of the job. How much did she promise you? I hear she's doing well out there; you could probably swing a couple thousand bits if you play your cards right, maybe more."
Shock and outrage began to fill the zebra. "I would never-"
"Oh, come off it," Goodmane said sharply with a frown. "We've been working together for years; I knew nopony could possibly be that squeaky clean. Why else would somepony with your skills take a job at a little clinic like this, when you could take some big cushy specialist job where you could pick your patients and work one day a week?"
Because I want to help as many as I can, and because the potion-merchant stereotype is a stubborn one, even among those who run hospitals. He opened his mouth to object, but caution closed it. This was not the time or the place; it would be hard enough for him to keep Chrysalis' secret without Goodmane poking and prying, trying to find out what agreement Zakeem had made with 'the Countess'. And did it really matter what the unicorn thought of him?
It did. It really did. Just the thought of it left him feeling grubby. But this wasn't just about him.
Then Goodmane's expression slid into another smirk. "...or maybe the deal wasn't for money?" he suggested slyly. "She looks good, if you like the type, and you were in that room together for quite a while..."
Aware that the sudden blush was showing through his fur, Zakeem glared at his colleague. "Your crude accusation is quite out of line!" he snapped. "What business I have with the Countess is mine!"
Hale chuckled again and backed off, both figuratively and literally. "And I should mind my own, is that it? Okay, okay, I get the point. I just wanted to let you know that I knew." He let that hang in the air for a moment. "Enjoy your lunch, Z." He opened the door and stepped through, then poked his head back in. "And try to relax. They won't come checking on a fake potion test for at least a week or two."
He retreated, Zakeem's glower chasing him over every inch.
Surprisingly, the interaction with Goodmane helped him get over his nervousness, if only because of how angry it had made him. To think that he was working alongside a pony - a doctor! - that would violate his code of ethics so flagrantly! For a while, Zakeem tried to recall which authorities to report him to... but then he realized that his moral high ground was barely a foothill at this point. After all, as unethical as he might be, Goodmane wasn't aiding an enemy of Equestria, now was he?
It was frustrating, but there was little he could do about it at this point. It wasn't as though he could show Goodmane the Countess' lab work to prove that she wasn't using potions. Besides, even if he could it would be a grave violation of doctor-patient confidentiality.
Somehow he made it through the rest of the day, and as he was making some notes on a patient's records in his office, Nurse Orange poked her head around the door. "That was the last patient, Doctor. If you want to head home, I'll finish cleaning up."
He looked up in faint surprise, glancing at the clock. "There are no more ponies who came seeking treatment? I thought that there might be one final appointment."
"No, the waiting room's clear." She gave him a worried look. "Please, Dr. Zakeem, I insist. Whatever you have left to do can wait until morning, can't it?"
The zebra relaxed slightly. Perhaps she couldn't make it. Perhaps she changed her mind. A sudden thought made him peer at the nurse, but... no, surely if the queen had taken her place, this would be the perfect opportunity to reveal herself. Was it all over, then? The thought was tempting. "You may have a point, and I think I'll accede. The day has been long; a good rest's what I-"
A sound behind him. A familiar sound, one you heard every day in the city, but not one normally associated with medical offices. The nurse craned her head to look past him. "Oh! You have a friend!"
Zakeem made himself turn around. There was a small black and white cat sitting on the windowsill outside of his office. Manehattan was full of strays, and no doubt one or two had visited him in this manner before without his notice, but this one was fixing him with an unwavering, oddly intelligent gaze. It meowed again insistently, slightly muffled through the glass.
...of course, changelings could turn into anything, couldn't they? Not just ponies...
"I'm sorry, kitty, but you can't come in," Purple said, sounding genuinely regretful. "Animals aren't allowed in this clinic. Oh, but you are a cutie, though!"
The cat meowed again and groomed a paw, because that's what cats did.
Thinking quickly, Zakeem shuffled the papers on his desk. "On second thought, Purple," he said brightly, "I'm changing my course. I'll clean up the clinic and lock all the doors."
She turned to look at him, the worry returning with an additional side of puzzlement. "You mean you're staying? Oh, no, doctor, I-"
"I'm sorry for making you worry and fret," he said with a reassuring smile. "I never intended to make you upset. If I've seemed distracted, it's naught but a phase; I promise my mood will rise with the sun's rays." He decisively moved past her toward the clinic's front doors, and she followed in his wake.
The nurse still seemed flustered. "I-I'm sorry I spoke to Dr. Goodmane behind your back, but you were acting so odd..."
"Oh, think nothing of it. I'm glad that you did." He couldn't stop the scowl, but forced it back before she could notice. "...some secrets are meant to be known, and not hid." How long had Goodmane been making these little deals, anyway? Years, probably, to be so comfortable about it. Zakeem felt a twinge of regret at that; he'd been more than happy to hoof over all of the EWF testing to Goodmane at his request. He felt like an accomplice. The only reason Zakeem had seen the Countess at all was because the other doctor had just coincidentally been too busy to handle her appointment this time around. Which was probably for the best, all things considered.
They arrived at the front door, and she stepped outside. "And you're sure you'll feel better tomorrow?"
"I give you my word that my mood will be bright," he said, a promise that - after the busy, busy evening that lay ahead - would test his nearly non-existent acting skills to their limit. She seemed relieved, at any rate, and nodded in acceptance. "Take care while you're on your way home, nurse. Good night."
"Good night, Dr. Zakeem. See you in the morning."
He waited until she was out of sight before locking the door. After a quick search of the premises to make sure he was alone, he returned to his office and, with a certain amount of trepidation, opened the window where the cat was still waiting. It hopped down and stood in the middle of the floor, looking pointedly at the window's blinds, which he normally kept open.
"Ah... yes." The window wasn't terribly exposed, mostly showing the wall of the dry cleaning business next door, but he supposed there was no point in taking chances. He pulled down the blinds and made sure they were secure.
As soon as he'd done so, purple light filled the room. "I want to make one thing abundantly clear," said an impressively clear and firm voice, notably higher in pitch than Chrysalis' but still indefinably similar. Zakeem turned, took in the figure of Spinnerette, and waited. "I've lived in this city for seventy years," she told him.
Despite his nervousness, he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow and smile slightly. Ponies sometimes tried their hoof at rhyming when talking to zebras, with mixed results. Some found it irritating, though Zakeem at least appreciated the effort. Judging from her cadence, she hadn't meant to do it - he was good at making that determination - but it was still amusing. "You don't need to speak in the ways of my kind. You're welcome to talk as you would; I don't mind."
She stared at him, confused and uncertain, then her eyes widened and she blushed fiercely. "Oh, Grogar. I-I'm so sorry, I didn't... I wasn't trying to..." The changeling queen stammered to a halt and glared at him, desperately trying to regain the upper hand. "My point, doctor, is that in all that time nopony has had even the slightest idea that I exist. Do you know what that means?"
Spinnerette's unintentional faux pas aside, there was something about the queens that made them uniquely intimidating, he decided. Something alien and uncomfortable. He wondered if that was something innate, or a reaction instilled into ponykind from centuries of being preyed upon. He mutely shook his head in response to her question.
"It means that I'm smart. I've lived on my own all that time; I didn't have a swarm at my beck and call, like my mother used to. I know Manehattan like the back of my hoof." Her glare intensified, and she stepped closer so that the discrepancy in their sizes was even more apparent. "So don't get any funny ideas about betraying us, because I will find you."
Zakeem managed a weak smile. "To turn on two queens? I'm not nearly that brave." He raised a hoof. "I swear that your secret will go to my grave. Queen Chrysalis told me of motives benign, and that her new diet was of your design. As long as her conduct appears to be just, I'll swallow my fears and extend the same trust."
She nodded, still watching him warily. "Good. So... I've never done this kind of thing before... what do you need me to do?"
Zakeem learned quite a lot about changeling queens in general and Spinnerette in particular during that examination. Although at first she stayed on the defensive, making a determined effort to give out as little information as possible...
"...don't even think about trying to weasel what I've been doing to feed out of me...!"
...the doctor had years of experience in patient relations, and had always tried to foster trust between them, to the point of being able to do so without even meaning to.
"Oh. Yes. Mother always says 'A true changeling never eats!', but I just got hooked on cabbage rolls when the yaks started moving into the city. I don't know if they actually do anything, nutrition-wise, but they taste so good..."
And once she started to get comfortable with talking, it was quite difficult to get her to stop.
"...wouldn't believe how much trouble we went through to find her a job! It was like, oh my Grogar! Just one disaster after another! I still feel bad about Poney Island..."
It was fascinating. Behind the terrifying exterior waited just a regular city filly, not much different from any you'd meet on the street and eager for social contact. But then, that's what she was, wasn't she? She hadn't spent centuries plotting in a hive, surrounded by nothing but subservient drones; she'd learned to live among ponies, in one of the largest cities in the world. Zakeem found his original misgivings fading away, and he realized he was enjoying the time he spent speaking with this charming young mare, even if she was actually three decades his senior.
The tests continued, and physiologically she was very similar to her mother, which of course came as no surprise. It turned out changelings did have a circulatory system of sorts, though the fluid within was pale green rather than red and possessed a distinctly bitter smell. He'd had to adjust the testing devices considerably and there was always the possibility that there was something he was missing, but through a microscope Spinnerette's blood analog appeared to contain a similar amount of... green squiggly things and lumpy wobbly things as her mother's. All other readings he'd thought of seemed to be comparable as well. He was keenly aware that what he was doing amounted to little more than guesswork, but at least - in the extremely unlikely event that anyone asked him - he could say he'd done his best.
Finally he set his pen aside and looked over his notes. They were as thorough as he could make them given just two non-invasive examinations, and much of it was little more than speculation on changeling biology. He'd have to hide them well; anypony else who saw them would think him insane. "So?" she asked. "How does it look?"
Zakeem gave her a wry smile. "You both seem in fine shape and doing quite well... as far as this foolish old doctor can tell. It still might be true you're both sick as a dog, but all I can do is make notes in my log." He sighed and rubbed a temple with his forehoof. "...I'm feeling quite silly for doing these tests. You needn't indulge all my selfish requests."
Her expression softened. "Don't say that, doctor. Mother pushed you into a corner, and you felt like you needed to push back. That's perfectly understandable."
"Be that as it may, I am still feeling shame, and honestly have just my own self to blame." He shook his head, then took the pen in his mouth and signed the evaluation form on the counter before him. "In my best opinion, your mother is fit. My recommendation is hers to submit."
"Thank you. She'll be happy to hear that." Spinnerette paused. "Well, no. She'll be sarcastically satisfied to hear that." She lifted the form in her magic field and tucked it away.
"And now, if you please, it has been a long day. I've chores yet to do, so let's be on our way."
"Of course." In a burst of purple, she assumed the form of the cat...
...and then returned to her true form almost instantly. A hoof rose to her abdomen and her face became a grimace of pain. "Ow. Ow. Ow..."
He rushed to her side, propelled by decades of his profession. "What is it? What aches? Are there wounds or breaks?"
"Oh, it's just a pain I've been having," she said casually, in the way of somepony who was used to downplaying their own weaknesses. "It comes and goes when I change shape, but it's no big deal. It usually goes away pretty fast when I change back." She suddenly winced, sucking air through her teeth in a hiss. "...usually."
"May I?" She hesitated, then nodded, and Zakeem very carefully laid his hoof on her torso, gently prodding. "There is something here," he decided after a moment. "Some odd unyielding mass." He lifted his head and looked at her, his expression as professional as he could make it. "How is your digestion?" he asked bluntly. "When was your last pass?"
She blushed. "I mean... yesterday? I don't, uh... need to very often, I don't think, compared to ponies. Mother rarely needs to use the restroom at all."
"Hmm." A more thorough investigation into Queen Chrysalis' digestive system, though potentially interesting, was a topic for another time, and would likely require substantial armor plating. It didn't sound like Spinnerette's condition was related to her bowels, but there was no way to rule it out, either. Despite his earlier self-recriminations, he wished now that he'd been able to do a more thorough examination of the queens, because at the moment he didn't have a clue where to start. "This pain won't be treated with guesses and gauze," he mused.
Then a thought occurred, and he glanced at the ultrascry device. Chrysalis had been adamant about not letting him use it on her true form, so he hadn't bothered asking her daughter, but now... "...may I scan your body, to find out the cause?"
She followed his gaze and eyed the device warily. "It won't hurt, will it?" Then she gasped and winced again. "Never mind, it can't be as bad as this. Let's do it."
It took some time and careful positioning - few such devices were designed to accommodate an alicorn-sized patient - but finally a picture was taken and hung on an illuminator. They both stared at it, struck speechless.
There was quite clearly something resting in her abdomen, but it definitely wasn't a lump of digested cabbage rolls.
Spinnerette broke the silence. "Is that... what I think it is?"
"I think," Zakeem said carefully, "we must call on your dam and her minion. I believe we require an expert opinion."