//------------------------------//
// Chapter 71 
// Story: Don't Bug Me 
// by Starscribe 
//------------------------------//

Albrecht’s words hit her harder than any attack could've. From the instant she'd decided to move against him, she imagined all the terrible ways for it to end. She had suffered sieges, poisonings, campers armed with sharp sticks rushing in under some hideous threat.

Instead, the old camp director stood right in front of her, helpless. Maybe he had a radio in that bag, but he wouldn't reach it before Amie did. Fortunate for him that she wasn't the bug he claimed her to be. "Surrender," she repeated. "You're sure about that? You... understand what that would mean?"

He nodded weakly. "Of course, child. Hide behind your new abilities all you wish. I fought with all the strength I had to protect the children of Stella Lacus. You may judge my failures, but you were not in my position. You will soon learn the difficulty I faced, when the burden is yours to carry."

Amie considered sending him right back out again. But no matter how frustrating the director could be, this was still her best chance for a peaceful surrender. There would not be another like it. "Come in then. Let's discuss your terms."

She didn't take him into the mine, despite his obvious interest in what her bugs were building. Instead, she had her guards block the way, directing him up the steps to her private office. She switched on the lights as she came in, then shut the door behind them with her magic. 

More than a few curious bugs drifted closer to listen through the door. She couldn't count on perfect privacy no matter how much she wanted it. 

"I know I'm in no place to make demands," he said. "I have only my own cooperation to give. You hold many of our weapons now, and all the adults trained to use them. By walking in here, I know there's nothing I can do to compel you. But I suspect you won't kill me. If what I hear about your powers are true, you have had that ability for some time now. You did not, which leads me to believe you are sincere. You believe you can do a better job than I have. You will have your chance to prove that."

Amie watched him carefully. She could force her way into his mind—or try, if she wanted. Yet she had never offered food to the director. That act cemented her contact with the bugs, with enduring strength that was very difficult to replicate. She might not be able to look into his mind even if she wanted to.

She felt his sincerity, anyway. He resented her, maybe even hated her. But she didn't find aggression, or any signs of fermenting violence. "I think I adapted faster than you did. I think I learned the truth about the Transit, and how to survive our circumstances. I think your hesitation killed kids. This camp is on the edge of starvation, when it doesn't have to be."

He settled onto his haunches, then dug into his saddlebags. She'd underestimated Albrecht—he could use magic. He could levitate, anyway. He lifted out a stack of papers, holding it towards her. When he spoke, all that anger was replaced with something else—pain. "You think I made that choice callously? That I threw away anyone I didn't think I could use? I didn't care?"

Amie took the pages from him. There weren't many—they were letters, a single typed page. Each one began more or less the same: "Dear Mr. and Ms. Coulter, I know this is the last news any parent wants to receive..."

She skimmed one. The letter expressed condolences and asked forgiveness for the death of a camper. Each one had photographs, taken during the camp, then after. The last picture on each one was a grave. Amie flicked to the next one. Though the contents were fundamentally the same, it wasn't a duplicate letter. Each one had memories and testimony from the individual child's counselors and friends. They described the bravery of each child, the contributions they each made despite their young age.

"There are seven dead so far—not counting those who died following you. I deserve judgment for these deaths—I expect my God to find me wanting when I come before His bar. If others fall, it will not be because of me. How will you write the letters to their parents, when more campers die? When winter comes, will you do better than I did? Will you stop them from starving?"

Amie settled his letters onto her desk, beside all her other plans. "Yes, director. And I'd like your help to do it. We can't rely on charity to keep our bugs fed; we're going to have to hunt for ourselves. Some of the older campers are brave enough, but I would be much happier with adults to supervise. These campers are adaptable—but they're teenagers."

"Hunt," he repeated. "I've had the adults helping with food since the beginning. Trapping game, fishing, and the larger stuff. But one mountain can't feed so many."

"Not that kind of hunting," she said. "But first, I want a list of all your guards. I want the ones you think are reasonable, who will accept your surrender. Then tell me the ones who you think are going to lose it and hurt people. I don't want to waste resources keeping prisoners." 

She levitated something off her desk, for him to see. It was a map of Equestria, or at least the nearest few hundred miles. She'd highlighted rail routes, the biggest cities, and little towns, along with everything she remembered about each scrawled in the margins. 

There was very little. Most, like Motherlode, had just a line or two. But studying to be Ivy's friend had taught her plenty about Equestria's government that she retained. "I need to get hunters out there—not one team, but a dozen. They need to learn their powers, learn the local customs, and come up with a plan... and we don't have a lot of time to teach them."

She moved closer to him, folding the map closed as she did so. In her Alicorn shape, she was taller than Albrecht by almost a head, radiating power in a way he did not. "This is your camp—you know what its people can do. Give me teams of three or four. I'd like an adult on each one, or at least a counselor."

"A dozen hunting teams?" he asked, indignant. "Amie, it can't be done. There are barely a dozen people who can shoot straight in all of Stella Lacus. Half of those aren't what I would call 'stable' enough to be unsupervised for long periods."

She smiled. "Fortunately, that isn't the skill we need. In fact, we'll be better off sending bugs who don't know the first thing about violence. We're looking for people who can be good friends. Social, adaptable, and outgoing."

The director walked past her, inspecting her dark office. He eyed the boarded-up window, and the single working electric light overhead. But whatever he was feeling, he hid it too well for Amie to extract.

"You project the confidence of youth," he finally said. "It may be that you're correct. Perhaps your decisions will save this camp. But many have suffered at the hands of those who were certain they did the right thing."

She nodded. "I'm not saying you're wrong, Mr. Albrecht. Whatever happens, I'm sure I'll be the first one to suffer the consequences. Equestria already knows about me, and they've made me the target of their wrath. You may be taking back your position before we make it back to Earth. I hope I've shared everything I learned before that happened. And... that Wes is far away from here."

She nudged him with a wing, then levitated the door open. "Please come with me, Mr. Albrecht. There are some people I'd like you to meet. Then we have a radio broadcast to make together."





It all happened about how she imagined after that. For better or worse, her confidence had won Albrecht’s surrender. Amie released half of his old guards that afternoon, keeping the others trapped until she had more time. 

Amie could deal with them eventually, if she was the only one who brought them food. A queen could only offer it so many times before other bugs saw what was already obvious.

There was no war for Camp Stella Lacus. Whatever fears she had conjured, Albrecht’s police were still humans underneath. Humans driven to desperation, fear, and fervent devotion—but not so far that they would murder their way through children.

Amie rode back with Albrecht a few hours later, now using another of her “workers” for the task. She trusted this one adversary—but not the whole camp, shortly after their abrupt change of leadership. If ever someone would make an attempt on her life, it would be then.

But there was no attack. Not during the drive, or after when Albrecht gathered all those in his former leadership council into his office for one final meeting. She felt plenty of anger from the group, ample resentment—but for every angry, bitter member of the staff, there were five more who radiated their relief. 

Albrecht kept them alive through painful rationing and brutal security—Amie brought food and promised more.

"There's one thing I don't understand," said Counselor Poole. "About this whole thing. Why the hell do you want our campers living in an abandoned mine? I know the tents aren’t cut out for snow, but we do have real buildings. If you're in charge now, can't you just bring everybody back? Set up housing in the MPR or something."

Several staff members murmured their agreement. "I don't want to live in a cave."

"We still have running water up here."

Amie waited for them all to finish, listening to every objection. If their leaders had them, then even more campers would feel the same way. 

"We're sticking with it for now, and I have two reasons." Amie stood up, pacing slowly past the desk. "Only one of them matters for this meeting: there's an army massing at the base of our mountain. Sometime soon, they may decide it's time to invade and wipe us out. They have airships, magical artillery, and a military tradition going back centuries. If we're scattered, Camp Stella Lacus will be massacred."

Dead silence. None of them dared question her—they had no reason to, when they could easily sense her sincerity.

"The old mine has more than enough space to house everyone—and we're adapted to live underground. You can climb walls, dig through rock, navigate in total darkness—we're built to live down there. More importantly, it has a well, and only one entrance. If we had to, we could hold it with the guns we have. Long enough to force them to the negotiating table, I hope."

"You knew this... for all these months..." Nurse Sobol said. After what Amie had done to heal the injured bugs, this nurse was one of her staunchest allies. For all Amie knew, she was the one who had persuaded Albrecht in the first place. "And we continued in ignorance."

Amie nodded. "I know much more, and I don't know how long I have to teach you all. But if you thought I was turning myself into a magical dictator—sorry. I still need you. Everyone still works. Difference is, everyone eats."

She levitated something down onto the desk between them—her plans for the camp, as much as she had time to put together so far. "Here's how we're going to start. I need everyone with construction or contractor experience to report..."