//------------------------------//
// Chapter 70 
// Story: Don't Bug Me 
// by Starscribe 
//------------------------------//

Amie could not return with Tailslide to walk the entire route back to Stella Lacus. Sending him with the food delivery team might as well be a requirement to strap flares to his back and show every step. But there was one step he insisted on taking, one so dangerous that Amie couldn't let him go alone. 

"I'm going to tell the agent I'm leaving," he said. "The forge won't miss me—and I won't miss them. But that pony should know. I'm not running away; I'm not foalnapped. I'm going because I choose to."

Amie tried to persuade him not to for ten minutes at least, rehearsing all the reasons for danger that he already knew. No matter what she said, Tailslide just wouldn't listen. He had made up his mind. "I don't care how right you are. I'm doing it anyway."

So, she followed him through the city, all the way to the "Office of Internal Security" that hadn't been there during her last visit. It wasn't on the base, but instead was built by the police station. Amie had barely even interacted with Agate's uniformed constables, except to exchange the occasional polite greeting. She got the feeling they resented having their city under martial protection.

Regardless, the office was already lit, even in the early morning hours before proper sunrise. A secretary sat at their desk, and lights streamed in from rooms beyond.

"You probably shouldn't go in with me," Tailslide said, when they reached the doors. "She's not stupid. She'll know who you must be."

Amie spread her wings. "She might arrest you too. If that happens, I want to stay close to you."

The pegasus groaned, then held the door open for her. 

The waiting secretary barely seemed to see them there. He shuffled several stacks of papers, then took another bite from his morning doughnut.

"Is your boss here?" Tailslide asked, politely. "I need to have a quick word with her."

Finally, he looked up. He nodded, then levitated the open box of doughnuts in their direction. "Hungry? She's in her office. Just make it quick, I know she's seeing someone at eight."

Tailslide took one with a grateful nod. Amie did too, mostly by reflex. Then she took her first bite and slowed. Her real body was demanding food again, to nourish so many eggs. But this one carried no young.

Even so, the taste was far less awful than she expected. Instead of warm dough, she tasted pride in quality, satisfaction from hard work. Under all that, she could just barely taste the flavors she remembered, the ones she missed so dearly. Sugar sweetness, warmth on her tongue.

"Thanks." She nodded in gratitude, waving to the secretary as they passed. The door was already open, and a familiar pony sat at her desk.

Sweetie Drops looked... deflated. There were bags under her eyes, her mane was disheveled, and she smelled like a pony who had spent more time working than cleaning up afterwards. Her wall bore a map of the city, covered in little pins and red lines. To Amie's chagrin, many of those pins clustered in the warehouse district. The Rent-a-Friend didn't have more than the other buildings around it—but the other parts of the city had almost nothing.

Sweetie Drops was narrowing in on her target. Would she have been so efficient if Amie hadn't given her bugs away? Pachu'a was right. And we're about to give her more reason to hunt for us.

The mare looked up as they entered, then saw Tailslide. She settled back into her seat, looking even more overwhelmed than before. "You're back. Reconsidered my offer?" Her eyes slid over Amie, settled on the doughnut she was eating, then moved past her again. "You shouldn't bring other ponies into this. Unless she knows something I need to hear."

Eating. That's how I escaped her suspicion when we first met. She doesn't think we can do that.

Tailslide dropped onto his haunches across from her. "She's just here for moral support. I needed to tell you: I'm taking a trip, and I might not be back for a while. If there's anything else you need from me, now's the time to get it."

She groaned, digging through her desk for a second until she found what she was looking for: a pad of paper. She settled it down in front of her, producing a quill and ink. "Contact address?"

"Changeling Isolation Zone," he said, pointing out the open window. "I don't know how their address system works."

"1 Prospector Drive, just off the I-5," Amie said, without thinking. As soon as she had, she wished she hadn't.

Sweetie's eyes fixed on her with sudden, furious intensity. She settled one hoof onto the table in front of her, so hard the wood groaned and flexed under the pressure. "Why would you do that, pony? Did you forget the Canterlot invasion? What we found in the occupied parts of the city?"

He shook his head sharply. "I didn't forget. I've given my testimony a hundred times—these changelings are different. They've never hurt me, never extracted love, never harmed any pony they met. I'm going to demonstrate that in a way nopony can ignore."

Sweetie Drops stood up, looking between them. "This is her, isn't it? The queen, Amie Blythe."

Amie opened her wings, keeping her posture as relaxed as she could. She didn't think this mare would attack and kill any prisoner she had. But if the “worker” died, that meant one family back on Earth who would never see their kid again.

"Not quite. I'm a messenger. I could show you, but you've got an open window. I don't want to cause a panic." 

The mare rolled her eyes. "Because your kind care so much about the well-being of ponies. Clearly."

Amie shrugged. "Amie didn't have to say anything. You didn't know what she was, you'd never know."

The mare glared back. "That's what you say? Not the part where her drones had me alone and helpless?"

"No. That part was... a failure. She wanted to talk, not threaten you. She's not proud of how that went."

Tailslide glanced between them, puffing out his chest. Amie could read his growing anxiety without magic. He was terrified for what might happen, afraid that someone might get attacked. But who?

"The best hopes of peace are vain, changeling. Fools strive for harmony, without success. The princess has a blade poised above your queen. It will soon fall and spell the doom of your race. It cannot be prevented."

Amie froze. In an instant, Sweetie's despondent state became clear. If the pony realized that Amie wasn't evil, but was powerless to help...

"Why?" Tailslide asked, flaring both wings to either side. He stuck one out directly in front of her, protective. As though it would make a difference against an Alicorn. "After everything you've seen..."

The mare turned away from them both, staring out the open window. "It was not my choice. Commander Path... his report was more convincing. They considered recalling me completely, said my judgment was impaired—but they need somepony here to track down any infiltrators once their queen is dead."

She flicked her tail towards the door, dismissive. "I won't stop you, Tailslide. Go and be with her. You'll only be watching her die."

"How?" Tailslide demanded. He stormed over to the window, glowering. "You know this is wrong. There must be something we can do to stop it. Some petition to send to the princess..."

"The spell is cast already. A knife that flies in dreams and pierces the heart of every guilty soul. Even the changelings need to sleep eventually—when she does, she will perish."

True sleep... had Amie ever done that? Her brother did every night and hadn't been attacked by mysterious magic. So the princess's weapon wasn't an indiscriminate killer. The other bugs didn't have to worry—but she did. 

Amie had only one dream since the transit—the time she met a mournful demigod, after her first night with Tailslide. Weeks had passed since then—when would it happen again?

"Unless she doesn't," Amie said. She backed towards the door. Both of her wings were open too, but not protectively like the stallion in front of her. She was ready to flee. Foolish of course, she still didn't know how to fly. "Amie isn't trying to colonize your world, she's trying to get back to her own. Your knife won't cross worlds."

The mare didn't turn around. "Ponies are supposed to be better than this. The Council of Lords are so eager for revenge... their knife finds the wrong neck. The queen told me the truth about one thing... she is our only chance for peace."





Amie was late returning to her true body. None of the campers would know—and she wouldn't tell them.

Beth and Wes are on it. Ivy has our way back. I just have to hold on until then. 

She put out her lantern, then stumbled out into the growing hive. Tailslide's devotion refreshed her magic, but part of her still felt as drained as Sweetie Drops. Her bugs treated the ponies of Equestria with respect, harming none. Instead of mutual understanding, they sent an assassin. 

Maybe Kaya is right. Pachu'a, all of them. Peace is impossible.

"Amie!" Someone pounded on the door, smacking it so loud it splintered. "He's coming, Amie! You need to get out here now!"

He. Only one person could bring such terror. Even if he flew straight there, Tailslide wouldn't reach her this quickly. Director Albrecht was on his way.

Amie closed her eyes, focusing her magic into the most difficult transformation she had ever performed. If the cruelty of Equestria wanted her dead so badly, then maybe she should abandon its rules completely. She still remembered what she was supposed to look like, still had a lifetime of memories to rely on.

The magic faltered, fading before she even started changing. Amie pushed anyway, forcing more power into the transformation than she had ever used before.

She got taller, leaner, more familiar. She couldn't hope it would work, that faded almost instantly. Her wings grew feathers, instead of vanishing completely. Her horn got sharper, and her fur remained.

She opened her eyes again a few seconds later, frustrated. Blonde mane blocked her vision, the same color as her hair should've been—but still a mane. She brushed it aside with magic and found that worked too. Her wings extended to either side, flaring with her annoyance. She still had wings! Amie had become an Alicorn!

"Amie, please! We need you!" 

She sighed, then levitated the door open. Several bugs clustered in the hallway—scouts she had left outside to watch for danger, and a few who had appointed themselves her guards. They looked briefly confused by her appearance, but any significance was lost on them. How could they know what it meant for ponies?

"Amie, good. Thought you were hurt or something. It's Albrecht—his truck is almost here! There could be soldiers inside!"

"Get more guards down to the holding cell—make sure his secret police don't hear about this. I don't want to fight from both sides at once."

She broke into a trot, passing through the hall. She walked down the stairs, into the gift shop. The other bugs scampered after her. A handful of “workers” appeared from the dark hallways nearby, sensing her distress. She could have ordered them back, but she didn't.

"Get ready to collapse the entrance. If they attack me, you can seal it. Send a message over the intranet. The hunters in Agate might be able to help."

"You're going out there?" one kid asked—Amie didn't know his name yet. But he was brave enough to carry a bow, even when it looked like they would be attacked soon. "Why?"

"He's not our biggest enemy," she answered. She gestured back at the entrance, urgent. "Get inside, but don't do anything unless you hear me call out."

It would be wiser to use one of these workers for such a dangerous mission—Amie no longer felt wise. She walked alone through the gift shop, then peeked through dirty glass out into the parking lot.

Albrecht clambered out of a pickup truck. There was no one in the passenger seat. He wore only a satchel over his shoulder—no obvious weapons, or vests of explosives. More importantly, no army of soldiers followed nearby. Amie felt only fear from him—no fermenting betrayal, no pleasure at some clever plan about to come to fruition.

Amie levitated the door open. She remained inside the building, just in case. If there was some marksman hidden, the least she could do was minimize the number of viable angles to kill her. "Director Albrecht. I didn't expect to see you here."

He turned, then started walking. "Amie. You must be her—how often will you change your appearance?" 

"It's me." She held still, blocking the entrance with her wings. "What do you want?"

The Transit concealed this man's age. He could've been another of the young counselors, if she judged on appearance alone. But his shoulders sagged in a way theirs didn't, borne down by the weight of responsibility. 

He remained silent, until he was standing in the doorway, facing her. "To turn over Stella Lacus, of course. I surrender."