//------------------------------//
// Chapter 53 
// Story: Don't Bug Me 
// by Starscribe 
//------------------------------//

After almost a week among changelings, Amie found herself feeling greatly relieved when they walked into Salt Lick just after sunset, and bought themselves a few tickets for the express to Agate. They raised a few eyebrows at the ticket-booth—but it wasn't like it was hard to find an excuse. 

They were prospectors traveling to a town that was always hungry for new workers. Who didn't want to make their fortune in the goldmines, even with the threat of murderous changelings locked in the mountains.

Soon enough she had their ticket ready, and they gathered together in a little circle of benches.

Amie had picked their disguises, despite Pachu'a's initial resistance. But her elevated position as a queen meant there was very little any of the orange bugs could do to argue with her, if she put her hoof down.

That meant they were going as a single family of unicorns, with a muscular and obviously rural look to them. She was the oldest and largest mare playing their mother, and the rest were all her sons and daughters. They all had variations of gray coats with different patterns of white splotches, and similar prospecting cutie marks.

Only when she returned with the tickets did Pachu’a finally stop complaining. How could he argue with success?

There were very few other ponies up at that hour of the night, particularly in a rural town where ponies worked hard through the day. It meant they were mostly alone on the platform while they waited for the train, one fictional family surrounded by potentially dangerous locals.

Pachu’a radiated a sense of profound unease, and watched the stairs up into the train station with unwavering focus. "I don't think anyone is coming," Amie said, in her older, more mature voice. She still kept her voice down, just in case. Even with no obvious spies lurking around them, they were still sitting in a pony settlement.

"Perhaps not," he agreed. "But probability is not everything. Ever since the Canterlot attack, security is heightened everywhere. Every town and settlement radiates its unease." 

He nodded down at the heavy saddlebags he wore. They all had them, even Amie. Ostensibly they were packed with prospecting supplies, whatever those even were. In reality, they had split the relief shipment across each of their bags. What Amie carried was a fortune in glamour.

"Amie should've drank it all," said the other hunter, a little more casually. "Then we could travel more comfortably. So long as she has the discipline to keep from using magic accidentally in the meantime. Does she not?"

"I do," Amie muttered, annoyed. "I didn't even think of that. Can I... hold that much?"

Pachu’a nodded very slightly. "Factors of ten. The larva, one. The pupa, ten. The worker, one hundred. The drone, a thousand. The nymph, ten thousand. The queen—perhaps endless, but at least a hundred thousand. So they say—only Queen Kaya knows."

"A hundred thousand... what?" Wes asked, settling down into the spot beside Amie. He had a large cloth sack in front of him, overflowing with strange round lumps. 

Amie sniffed, then reached past him to get at its contents. Peaches! From one of the local orchards, judging by how fresh it smelled. She lifted it to her lips, and bit down eagerly. It was good to eat again. She still remembered how wonderful the fruit could be.

"Drachma," Pachu’a answered. "The... ponies you know, need ten each sunrise, as do each of us. The violet tribe invented the name and system of measurement, but all have adopted it by now. It may be wise for Amie to consume what we have, once we are secure in a private car. So much power in one place—could be detected by spellcraft. But not once it was inside a living creature."

A chance to put actual numbers on everything Amie did. Her camp had about a thousand people, which meant she needed ten times as many bits and pieces of magic each day. "Hunters... bring in a thousand of those? So I would need ten like you returning home each day. That means... a few more to be traveling, and some time to make the exchange—"

Pachu’a chuckled. His voice was mostly covered by the whistle of an approaching train. "A hunter can carry more in storage—but I have rarely known a hunter to return with so much, unless they were away from home for a long time. Weeks, or months."

Weeks or months. Amie shook her head vigorously, then stood up, tossing her peach pit into a nearby trash-bin. "Months? Before I was... before things changed for me, I was full all the time. I think it took a week, tops."

Pachu’a rose beside her. There was no amusement on his face, only cold confidence. "If that is true, you are the greatest hunter who ever lived."

Amie didn't have a chance to argue. The train doors opened, and a pair of conductors stepped out. On a quiet evening train like this one, the interior was almost deserted, and a private room for the group was relatively cheap. At least—she assumed it was cheap. Amie still didn't understand the value of goods in the Equestrian currency. These things would take her some time to learn.

Eventually Amie was at the front of the private room, facing the conductor who had led them there.

"And feel free to roam the train once we're in motion. We won't be reaching your stop until early afternoon. Visit the dining car at any time, or the viewing car if you just want to appreciate Equestria's natural splendor. Or—give some of your group a chance to nap. Pull-out beds over your heads, but they do block off the seats."

Amie nodded once. "I… like the idea of a dining car, now that you mention it. Haven't had the chance for hot food in a long time."

Someone coughed behind her—Pachu’a, by the sound of his voice. But this disguise had another advantage—it would be much harder for him to question her without standing up. She was his mom, after all. 

"Once we're underway," he answered. "Another group boarded at our last stop, I believe they wanted to eat as well. I'll tell the cook to add another portion."

"Two portions," Wes added from behind her, poking up over her shoulder. "Mom is expecting again. Pretty sure she could eat your whole car."

The conductor laughed, then his eyes settled on her belly. "Why—I can't believe I didn't notice. You do have that glow about you, ma'am. In that case, I'll deliver the message right away." 

He turned and hurried off down the car. He wasn't there when Amie slammed the door shut, then wheeled on her brother, shoving him with one hoof back into the chair. It wasn't hard, but her disguise was much bigger than his. "Don't tell me you're buying into that now too."

He grinned back up at her, expression unchanged. "I could only listen to everyone say it for so long before I realized how much sense it made. Not sure why you'd be ashamed about it—'you're getting older, Amie. You know I'm expecting grandkids.'"

Even disguised as a pony, he did a decent impression of their father. Good enough that his smile vanished, and he looked suddenly away, ears sagging. "Guess you... might not be able to tell them."

Amie sighed. "I'm not ready for—anything like that. I don't know what to tell you." She glanced at the walls to either side, lowering her voice to a whisper. "I was gonna be a nurse practitioner one day, remember? But I don't need bio to tell you that eggs have to be fertilized. On Earth most hive insects do that internally. I've never had a... viable partner. It isn't possible."

There was probably a section about that in Kaya's book. It would probably be written in cold, calculating language about how to maximize egg production. Maybe she didn't want to read that after all.

"You're right about the process," Natane said. She settled rigidly into one of the open seats, holding almost still. Now that they were out among ponies, Amie was beginning to see why she feared discovery. She wasn't very good at being one of them. Almost as though she'd never seen outside their hive. 

"Kaya usually has many partners, so each generation is strong. Trading males between tribes is one of the celebrated and successful branches of our diplomacy. If you'd been here a few weeks earlier, you could've met a fine drone from the violet—" 

Pachu’a cut her off with one hoof, gently pushing her mouth closed. He seemed to say something then, but Amie heard nothing. She only felt the embarrassment from her, then the other bug nodded. She fell silent.

"This is not the place, Mother. Maybe you should get something to eat. We'll open one of these beds for your brother to rest."

She nodded. "Get me if there's any sign of trouble. But a midnight train like this—I don't know why there would be."

She removed her own little satchel from inside the relief saddlebag, then waved to her brother. She walked alone down shut doors of other private cars, feeling the gentle rocking of the train under her hooves. It was soothing, enough that she wanted to rest too. It would be nice to have somewhere dark to curl up, somewhere that the air wasn't so dry. Kaya had the right idea about where to put a throne.

Not that Amie needed a throne. She didn't want to be in charge at all, didn't want to be queen of anything.

Each cabin had a little mirror running along the door, giving her an uninterrupted look at her own reflection. Wes was right—it was starting to show. 

It was a week ago! Amie really had to sit down with that book and figure out what other knowledge the queen had hidden in it for her. How long before she was... ready? I'm not ready I don't want this I'm not ready.

It should've been someone else. Amie wasn't the oldest or the smartest or the bravest—she'd just been the one willing to take some risks and protect her brother.

She reached the dining car, and sure enough there was already another group inside. Amie held the door open, then froze in her tracks, staring. She recognized one of these ponies. An off-yellow mare, with purple and pink curls in her mane and tail and candy for her cutie mark. 

There were several low tables arranged around an open cooking area, where a single stallion slaved over a few steaming pots and pans. There were three others, the mare she knew and two she didn't, all sitting together.

Unfortunately for Amie, they saw her. The mare looked up first, then her eyes settled on her. General disinterested tiredness changed instantly to curiosity, with just a flicker of suspicion.

"Miss?"

No escape now. Amie stepped through the door, putting on her best smile. It still probably came off as exhausted. "I think the conductor... said I'd be coming," she said, moving for the table furthest from the ponies.

"You shouldn't eat alone, ma'am," said the mare. "Powers, get her a seat."

He stood quickly, and half-lifted a hoof to salute before the mare shot him an angry look, and he put it down. He pulled out the remaining seat, holding it towards Amie. "Miss?"

Amie turned over any polite way to decline she could think of—but her mind stayed blank. With every second she hesitated, the mare's suspicion grew.

"Thanks," Amie said, settling into the offered chair. "I appreciate it—but it's not a big deal. I can still get around fine. It's not my first time."

That last part was by far the hardest to manage with any sincerity—but there was a whole cabin of ponies who were disguised as her kids right then. Even if specific details didn't make it through the train, they probably saw the big family all getting on together.

"I'm Sweetie Drops," said the one Amie knew, extending a hoof. "This is my friend Dim Practical, and the... intern, Ardent Powers. He's learning."

Amie extended a hoof towards her, then the others in turn. "I'm—" She'd just written her fake name for the ticket. "True Silver. Just Silver's fine—feel weird with ponies calling me 'true.'”

That got a chuckle from Ardent. Sweetie Drops relaxed, settling back into her seat. All three of these ponies had heavy saddlebags with them, hanging over some empty chairs nearby. They were about as full as the ones Amie's group had brought. What the hell are you doing back here?

"Your meal," said a voice from nearby, settling a tray down between them. "Did the best with what we had on hoof after hours. Some flower surprise. Dessert's in the fridge cooling down as we speak, should be ready when you are. I have seconds for Ms. Silver when her plate is empty. Feel no need to ask, I know how mares can be with these things. No one leaves my kitchen hungry, even at midnight."

Amie grinned back at him, a little of her energy returning. "Careful with promises like that, chef. I haven't eaten a meal that filled me up in four months.”