• Published 22nd Mar 2022
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Don't Bug Me - Starscribe



Amie was prepared for a difficult season as a camp counselor. She wasn't prepared for her entire summer camp vanishing from Earth, and reappearing in a strange new world. Now they're bugs, in a world that seems to hate them. Survival not guaranteed.

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Chapter 13

They walked for hours, long enough that the ground became rockier and the trees scarcer. Amie wasn’t sure Tailslide would have been able to keep going, except that they found a road. That made their progress less direct, but the grade much more manageable.

He might be an alien horse-thing, but Tailslide soon reminded her of one of her boys—unwilling to admit when he was in too much pain to continue and needed a break.

Fortunately for him, she could read his emotions, and knew exactly when to stop. She pushed them just fast enough to always find a shady spot to rest.

The sun was already starting to wane in the sky by the time she could see the first outline of the city in the distance. There were mine entrances here, and terraced homes made of plain stone bricks. Not only that, but there were people here.

Not humans, as some part of her had already known. Otherwise, she would’ve expected animal control the night before, or maybe forest rangers. There would be no familiar faces in this group, or even familiar species. But they were still a long way out.

“Homestretch, Tailslide,” she said. “Keep it up. We’re almost there.”

He couldn’t meet her eyes anymore. His expression was glazed, and steps halting. Still, he kept moving. Maybe just by rote, but he moved. “Almost there.”

She kept him going. It didn't matter how exhausted she had become, or how grim his odds of survival. One way or another, she was going to save this stupid horse’s life.

As she approached the streets of the city proper, the locals started noticing them. They flowed over, at least half a dozen concerned citizens.

None of them were dressed in what she would consider “human” attire. Some wore jackets, or saddlebags, but not a single pair of proper pants. She was much too exhausted to care.

“What happened?” asked an older female, one without wings but plenty of lines on her face. She had a pair of thick spectacles. Behind them were harsh, discerning eyes. “Thought folks weren’t to go down that road no more.”

“True,” Amie said. She turned slowly, so Tailslide’s injured leg faced her. “I did my best to patch him up, but I’m not a surgeon. Does your town have a doctor?”

By the time she finished asking, someone else brought over a wooden cart. There were no cars here, and the cart required a pony hitched to it to pull it. But she didn’t care—when they arrived, they helped Tailslide up into it. Then they waited, expecting her to follow.

Guess Wes can wait a few more minutes. She climbed up beside him, into the empty part of the cart. The crowd kept talking—muttered questions about who they were, and what they were doing here. She caught very little of it, other than a single poignant question about how they hadn’t been “eaten by changelings.”

“Back to work, ya’ll,” called the same female who had spoken to her, waving an angry hoof at the crowd. “I’ll see they get the care they need. You’ll hear about what this is soon as I know. Now give us some space!”

They scattered, retreating like scolded children. Except that every single one of them would’ve been bigger than she was. Her stolen body was taller than the real one.

“My name’s Stern Hoof—supervisor for the FlimFlam Regional Excavation and Mineral Extraction Company,” she said. When the cart started moving, she alone walked beside it. She seemed to know where they were going, anyway. Not to a giant guillotine, or hangman’s tree in town square anyway.

The buildings resembled many of the accents—an old west boomtown. They were cheap and full of holes, rattling in anything more than a stiff breeze. There was more care paid to the arrangement of the ore tracks and heavy metal carts rolling down them than the actual road. “Who are you?”

She looked down at her companion, but Tailslide had his eyes closed again. “This is Tailslide,” she said. “I’m Amie.”

“Anemone,” Stern repeated, incorrectly. “Well Windflower, welcome to Motherlode. Forgive me for soundin’ a mite nosy, but if I ask I can pass the word on, and you won’t get every working mare in the city repeating the same questions.”

She nodded weakly. Now that she was finally sitting down, she could start to feel the exhaustion that should’ve overwhelmed her. We made it. Her struggling the night before, fighting up the mountain—it would be worth it, so long as this soldier survived. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know, but I’ll feel better when Tailslide has someone wiser than me to poke at his leg. I think he might be infected. I’m positive I got the lead out, but his leg was also submerged in a river. No telling what got in.”

Stern nodded. “Course, young mare. We’ll get your coltfriend to a doctor, then we can talk.”

They walked in silence for the next few minutes, while Amie pondered over the meaning of that word. “Coltfriend?” she finally repeated.

“Course.” Stern gave her a wink. “I’ve seen that look in a mare’s eyes before. Wasn’t always as rusty as the rail.”

Amie would’ve laughed it off, if she had the energy. She kept her mouth closed instead—if the aliens supplied their own explanation, she wouldn’t have to invent one.

She used what energy she had left to remain alert for her brother. Wes had certainly reached the town by now. He couldn’t continue all night without sleep, but he also didn’t have to drag a barely-living soldier up every step.

Though she searched for that bright orange reflective coat, she saw no sign. At least he wasn’t locked in a cage or hanging from a tree somewhere.

Eventually they arrived at one building not much different from those around it—except for the large red cross outside, along with text proclaiming it to be the “Field Hospital—Motherlode Mineral Extraction.”

Her eyes lingered on those words. There was something strange about the lettering, or maybe the font? But then she was helping unload Tailslide from the back, and such insignificant questions faded from her mind.

The interior reminded her a little more of the era she imagined with the other structures, right down to the somewhat-hurried young man working alone in the clinic, which stank faintly of tobacco as she stepped inside.

I sure hope these people know about germ theory Tailslide, or you’re screwed.

The young man working the clinic didn’t just have a jacket—he also had a horn, similar to the ones on every bug in Stella Lacus. Only his was straight, curling to a point instead of gnarled and pierced by holes.

He used it the same way, though. When they arrived, he just levitated Tailslide right out of the cart, and onto a gurney. “Another mining accident?” he began, looking bored. Then he saw Tailslide’s leg, and stopped.

His mouth hung open. “Buck me—what happened to him?”

“An explosion,” Amie answered. “Half a dozen pieces of hot lead went straight into his leg. One clipped an artery. I stitched him back together, but—”

“A pegasus did this?” He wheeled the stretcher through the building, into an old-style operating theater. There was literally a large glass window, and raised benches for viewing in the next room.

But the smell of alcohol overpowered the tobacco smoke, so maybe she could trust him. Guy doesn’t really have a choice at this point.

“Yeah?” She shrugged, and found her wings echoed the gesture just as when she’d been a bug. It was a lot slower with all that weight to move, though. “I have a few years of medical training. First aid at scouts, few semesters of nursing school, and three months as an EMT.”

She lowered her voice. “I know I’m not qualified. But he was bleeding out. A tourniquet would’ve cost him his leg.”

He levitated over a looking glass from a shelf, inspecting her work. Finally he settled it back down. “You’re not miners. This is military-level work. All those words you just used—you’re a guardsmare. So is he.”

Stern Hoof watched quietly from the hall. She hadn’t interfered, and remained far enough back that she might’ve missed her. If Amie couldn’t sense her emotions, that was. Mostly curiosity, mingled with a wisp of suspicion.

From the doctor, she felt only amazement. That tasted pretty good. “Yes,” she said. “There was—something happened at the border. An explosion, that’s what you need to know.”

“An explosion.” He paced over to a cabinet, removing several vials from within. They were labeled, though what they said didn’t make sense to her. “Regrow patchy mane” didn’t seem like much of a drug, or “heal broken bone.” At least it was idiot-proof. “This patient has lost a lot of blood, and it does look like an infection. If he’s working with the guard, we’ll… use the regenerative instead. That alright, Stern?”

She waved a dismissive hoof. “I’ll pass the bill to the guard, Sawbones. Spare nothing to ensure he survives.”

“Right.” He levitated several vials back into the cabinet, producing a metal key instead. He unlocked the drawer beneath, withdrawing two vials from inside velvet padding. Both were glowing, bright enough to see even while he lifted them. “I would like some space to work, Miss—”

“Anemone,” Stern said. “We’ll have some tea while you work. The soldier is in good hands, Windflower. I’ve seen Sawbones work miracles.”

Even if he couldn’t, there was little more she could do. She leaned over, resting her hoof beside Tailslide’s shoulder. He didn’t open his eyes this time. “I’ve never lost one of my kids before,” she whispered. “Don’t you be the first. Hold on.”

Then she turned, hurrying from the room. Passing through that door was a kind of threshold—she had done everything for Tailslide she could. His survival depended on another now. She could focus on her brother.

But Stern didn’t let her leave. They walked into a neighboring room, and the female made her tea. No, the “mare.” That particular artifact of horse-vocabulary had caught on, along with stallions, colts, and probably fillies too. She called the crowd ‘everypony.’

Amie had already stolen a body. She would need to steal their language too, if she didn’t want to give herself away.

The tea tasted a little better than she expected. It was herbal, something she’d never tasted before. But she felt another sensation as she drank it—the instant bloated, “junk food” feeling that came from eating something that wasn’t good for her.

Changing doesn’t let me eat things I couldn’t before. Need to remember that. She sipped at her cup only slowly. It took little to let her true exhaustion show.

“That answered many of my questions,” Stern said. “But I hope you understand—a mare on the border, she has a responsibility. I need to know what’s really over there. I need to know if Motherlode is in danger. Do I organize an evacuation?”

Amie glanced to the door, but there was no one else watching. The last thing she needed right now was starting a fake panic in a country she knew nothing about. “About the… changelings, you mean?” Amie asked. She kept her voice low, as though this entire conversation might get her into trouble.

Stern Hoof nodded once. “They attacked your coltfriend, didn’t they?”

“We—” How could she answer, without angering the locals against Camp Stella Lacus? But she couldn’t just lie, or else the injuries wouldn’t make sense.

She deliberated a second. She felt no greater suspicion rising from this old mare—maybe she expected Amie to need to carefully consider her reply.

“The changelings living over there don’t have an army. They don’t want to invade Motherlode. They’re—confused, mostly. They don’t know how their mountain got here. They don’t know what Motherlode is. They’ve never even seen a pony before.”

From the mare’s reaction, she had guessed the word “pony” correctly. “They saw you,” she said. “What happened on our border?”

Amie lowered her voice even more, barely a whisper now. “None that saw us survived, Miss Stern. It’s my hope that we sent a clear message, warning the changelings in Camp Stella Lacus that they’re not welcome outside their mountain.”

“Camp Stella Lacus,” the horse repeated, stumbling over the words. “I suspect you aren’t supposed to share so much with me, guardsmare.” She rose. “I have duties elsewhere, but I will arrange a place for you two to spend the evening, and supplies until a telegram can reach the guard post at Agate.”

Amie stood as well, nodding after her. “Thank you. There’s one more thing—” There was no easy way to ask this next part, at least no way she could think of. “Before we were attacked, I was looking for a—not a changeling. Something different. Bright orange, about this tall. Friendly, maybe a little shy. Not a pony though.”

It all came out in a stumbling mess, but she managed.

Stern stopped, looking thoughtful. “I think I may’ve heard something. I’ll ask around town, get back to you tomorrow morning.”

Could she wait that long?

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