//------------------------------//
// Chapter 78 
// Story: Don't Bug Me 
// by Starscribe 
//------------------------------//

Amie barely saw what happened next. Terrified ponies, an ambulance wagon, and dozens of guards swarming in from all sides. Rick's bloody form vanished behind a wall of armor, while others shoved her into a metal car.

Beth's presence was almost as thoroughly removed from her view as the workers she usually used, so withdrawn that she felt nothing from her anymore. She saw the spear, felt the magic just as Amie had—and now faded into despair. But while she could retreat, the queen farcasting into her body had no such recourse.

Amie tried, and not just out of fear or pain. The bugs of Agate needed warning—Ivy had betrayed them! It wouldn't be long before someone discovered the connection to the Rent-a-Friend, and soldiers appeared to search the place. If only Amie could reach the worker she kept there for that reason, she could warn them to flee. The manacles around her hooves prevented that. She would have to trust to Marcus to keep the hunters safe, if it came to that.

Time meant little in the armored car. Ponies stared, soldiers marched, and castle walls rose up around her. Eventually they reached a ramp, and descended underground. Then they stopped, and more soldiers escorted her through stone tunnels and shadowy spaces.

"Not like them," one guard observed, prodding at her with the butt of a spear. "They fought like animals last time. She's not clawing her legs off to attack us."

Amie looked up, then met the soldier's eyes. An orange pegasus, with streaks of blue mane emerging from his helmet. "Tell Princess Luna that Amie Blythe is here. Please."

"Amie," he repeated, backing away. "What kind of name is that?"

"Back to your post, soldier." That was the same officer. Amie wasn't sure if he was the one who stabbed Rick, it was impossible to tell what was happening through the chaos. Could she even blame the ponies for reacting so violently? The bug had attacked them, not the other way around.

I promised to get you all home. I said I would protect you, and I failed. Worst of all, Amie couldn't whisper to herself that this wasn't her fault, couldn't claim that powers beyond her control had struck while she wasn't there to protect them. These bugs were only here because they followed her orders. Rick would never see his family again now. If events continued as grimly as they were, Beth might not either.

She had no energy left to fight. Amie watched the passages they took, memorizing every turn and twist. She could do that much, carefully tracking the path in case she had a chance to escape. There was something about being underground that made space very easy to remember.

Eventually they came to a large, open room, with a vaulted ceiling and a heavy metal door. A ring of carved runes encircled the center, which contained all she might expect from a cell. The stone floor had been carved into a cot, along with a simple open privy and a faucet steadily dripping water into a trough. Yet there were no walls or doors around it, just the marks.

"Inside," the officer ordered, pointing. "If you continue to cooperate, the magister may choose to remove your restraints. I... can't believe I'm giving you instructions. A changeling. We actually took one prisoner."

Amie advanced into the indicated spot, then turned to face him. As she expected, the soldier didn't follow her in. That meant he wasn't close enough to smack her again. "I don't belong to the tribe that invaded your city. We don't want to fight Equestria, we just want to go home."

He laughed, removing his helmet and holding it in a gentle magical glow. "Don't want to fight? What do you call what just happened?"

She could make no argument, of course. Rick's attack had spoiled the peaceful surrender strategy she employed. But at least Beth was still alive. If they removed her restraints, Amie could start working on a rescue plan. Somehow. "He loved her. At his age, I—I should've realized. This is all my fault."

She had realized that the two cared for each other, of course. But puppy love and heroic self-sacrifice were far, far apart.

"We can agree on one thing." He touched one hoof against the wall, and the ground began to glow, burning a steady purple. "This barrier is not kind to the guilty we hold here. Stay away from the walls, and it won't hurt you. The magister is already on his way."

He turned, marching back out the way he'd come. In the halls beyond, cheering and celebration shook the castle. Amie needed no magic to sense their triumph. These ponies thought they were heroes—thought they'd just stopped an invasion before it began. Rick probably thought he was a hero too.

Amie had no guidepost to judge the passage of time. She squirmed against her restraints, trying to wiggle a hoof free. They squeezed firmly, just as the straps along her back. In her solitude, she did take some time to inspect the other contents of the room, arranged along the walls. 

Many shelves and boxes stacked there, carrying various arcane implements. Whether those metal tools were instruments of torture, or magical sensors, she couldn't know. 

The cell itself was plenty big enough to walk around in. The space was warm, and the water tasted clean. But under all the smells of damp stone and mildew, the lingering metallic tang of blood never quite faded.

Finally, the heavy iron door opened again. A unicorn strode in, dressed very differently from the armored soldiers. He wore a simple black robe, with white and gold stitching decorating its length. His mane was cut short, and a black patch covered one eye.

He slammed the door shut behind him, then lowered a bar into place there, locking it securely. His horn flashed once, faint purple the same shade as the glowing diagrams surrounding her. When the light faded, so did all the sound of pony voices from outside. She heard no more marching hooves, no more cheers, or celebratory conversations. 

There was only this one pony, approaching slowly. He stopped just past the barrier, lighting his horn to a steady glow. "I would welcome you to Canterlot, but I think we both know it could've been under better circumstances. I find myself disappointed in the cleverness of your scheme."

"Because it wasn't a scheme." Amie looked up, meeting the pony's single green eye. "I came to see a pony I thought was my friend. She had some magical research for me. I was going to write down what she learned and leave, that's all."

The magister settled onto his haunches, expression flat and unreadable. But now that Amie needed her emotional senses most, enchantment took them from her.

"I believe you. What I do not believe is how your tribe could be so monumentally, unimaginably stupid. Centuries since the Orange bugs arrived on this planet—I would expect the Homeworld to advance at least a little in all that time. Yet here you sit in chains, captured by the scheme of a child."

The defense Amie had been preparing choked back in her throat, fading to incoherent muttering. It wasn't that the unicorn had switched languages, it was all perfectly clear. She'd never known a pony to use those words, let alone understand any of what he implied.

"You're... Kaya sent you to rescue me?" Amie guessed. "But you were already here..."

The “unicorn” broke into cruel, bitter laughter. He backed away from the cage. "I don't belong to her tribe, prisoner. If you think those who sent me would reward your failure with assistance, you're sorely mistaken."

He stood, advancing on her. He stepped over the glowing diagram, which lit up as he moved, without other visible effect. He loomed over her, as any adult pony would over a young bug. "Welcome to Equus. If your queen can see this, I hope she learns this lesson, and learns it quickly. There is no mercy here—no kindness, no compassion. When we were brought here, the transition stripped us of some invisible, essential element universal to all men.

"The barbarians who infest this planet possess it, yet we do not. Two paths exist before us, both chosen in equal measure. Those bugs without ambition—Kaya, and her brood, choose to remain in secrecy, surrounded by rich harvests of glamour. If you wished to follow that path, you are doing it wrong. Your nest is known to them, their army marshals to exterminate you."

He held down on her wings with magical force, pressing her into a sitting position before him. Then he shoved, turning her to one side, inspecting the colored fin down her back. "The other path—the wiser path—is dominion. The Empress empowered her legions to do this thing, and establish their sovereignty. Retain control with your citizen army, and harvest the necessary joy from the population. Barbarians are so easy to entertain, with a little bread and a performance."

Amie shifted her manacles, fighting against the metal there. It did little good—but then something slipped, and the straps around her wings tumbled away. They opened involuntarily, buzzing with energy. "I ask though I already know. You are green, not blue. Chrysalis did not send you in another foolish attempt at conquest. A sad thing—our most ancient cousins, twisted by madness. Nothing of civilization remains in them. But I do see some of it in you, just as I have in the photographs of your war camp. The Homeworld does move."

If he's a changeling, he can feel my emotions. The magister lacked her physical restraints, or the magical handicap they imposed. Amie would need to keep calm, as logical as the strictest Vulcan. Her brother could handle the roleplaying—she wasn't sure she could.

"The invader didn't send me. I came from the United States—Camp Stella Lacus."

The unicorn stiffened, circling around to face her again. "Intellegis?"

She nodded once, though it wasn't quite true. "Si?"

"Cīvis Rōmānus?"

That wasn't Spanish. Amie did recognize it, but never by quite that pronunciation. Now if only she had paid more attention in Latin during senior year. Rick would know. Too bad they stabbed him. "Ita!"

The unicorn backed away, passing as easily over the barrier as he entered. Gone was the satisfaction from his face, or even the curiosity. "Mē paenitet." He turned away, pacing rapidly to a shelf covered in heavy bottles. He levitated several up into the air, accelerating with every step. 

"Don't belong here," he finally said, stopping beside the barrier. "The Equestrians will interrogate you. Communicate my regrets to your queen, if you can."

"You left my manacles on," Amie said, shuffling over to the barrier. "They suppress my magic, I'm sure you know. I can't communicate anything." 

"Vērō." Something clicked, and they fell away from her forelegs. Her back legs remained trapped, dragging the other chains along behind them. He levitated both heavy bottles across the barrier, and turned them over, pouring them out onto the stone.

Amie recoiled reflexively, shielding her face with one wing. None touched her, but the smell did. Harsh, chemical. Oil. Judging by the shelves, there were gallons of it stored here.

"Now, listen. Diutissime exspectavimus. Ignosce mortem civis tui. Nesciebamus te esse Romanum. Si bello superstes, nuncium mittemus."

The queen of green bugs got the message—but that didn't mean Amie understood it. A word or two stuck out, something about death, and “Roman.” But past that, fear and ignorance obscured any meaning she might have otherwise extracted.

"The only mercy I can give is protecting you from interrogation. The princess would extract all that you know, she cannot be resisted." He yanked with magic, and several more jugs of liquid floated off the shelf. He tossed a few into the circle, while just dropping others all around it, shattering them and filling the room with oil.

"You can't!" Amie hopped up onto the stone bench, trailing chain behind her. "The queen has a plan to deal with the princess! Don't do this!"

The unicorn hardly seemed like he was listening anymore. His feelings came muted and pale, like every other bug she knew. There was enough to sense his determination, his certainty. He removed a candle from a drawer, then ignited it with a little flash of magic. He sliced away at the bottom with a dagger, so only a tiny fraction of wick remained. He set it down beside a large puddle of oil.

"I haven't forgotten about the other captive. I will ensure the surgeons do not save him." His horn flashed, one last burst of searing purple—leaving Amie alone with the candle, and a room filled with oil.