Extra A/N:
Sorry for the delay in the post, but the chapter is much better now than it was fourteen hours ago.

**Baltimare, Equestria**
**005 Summer CC**
**Truth Seeker**

I don’t normally wake up in the middle of an activity. Usually, I’m laid down on a bed or the ground or in some ditch. This might be the first time coming back to awares having just won some sort of competition given the cheering crowd.

I’m in the middle of a wide circle of ponies in the middle of a street. There is a noticeably large number of ponicemares, fireponies, and even more civilians. I briefly remember putting some powdered salt in a little line and sucking it up into her nasal cavity just before the contest began.

Yeah, I picked a bad week to quit sniffing salt.

I only recall a few images of the match, but I feel it in my body. The burn in my muscles; the sweat foamed up under my detective coat, soaking my mane and neck, dripping down my face; the dryness in my throat; the adrenaline tickling my insides; and the thumping in my chest: I feel alive.

How long has it been? The rush… it’s not like I risked my life, but there is that feeling one gets when running long-distance. Endorphines: that’s what this feeling is.

I'm really out of shape.

Last time I had one from cardiovascular exercise was so much more potent. Well, that’s if I don’t count those snuggle sessions with Remmy. Predawn Remissions, that soliciter thestral -solicitral, theliciter?- fluffy lawyer has been quite enthusiastic.

I don’t remember how long it has been, but I think it’s been a while since we first met. I would have thought she’d move on already -leave me like everypony else- but she hasn’t. Actually, she’s-

-Ugh. Thinking about her is making my mouth want water, and I’m dehydrated. I look around and croak out, “Water?”

Somepony hoofs me a bottle, and I throw it back. After a few gulps, I notice something is off... this is actual water. Ugh, I guess beggars can't be choosers; so, I drink as much as I can get. I wish it was stronger water, but it is cold and refreshing. So, that's nice.

Chief Inspector Subtle Hint is here and making a congratulatory speech before the crowd about my spectacular performance protecting the ponice departments’ reputation to an enthusiastic audience. What did I even do?

Some ponicemare near me says, "Take it easy, Seeker. After spinning around so much and so fast, it's understandable that you need a moment to reorient yourself." Reorient? Spin? She makes it sound like we had some unadulterated dance-off.

Then, Fire Chief Spicy Tail, appears in front of my face and begrudgingly praises me in the most angry way, “Let’s make one thing clear, Seeker: I do not like you one bit, but -by Harmony- I respect you.” I don't expect that, but now I know it was in fact a dance-off.

Spicy Tail never forgave me after I swept Apple Sauce off her hooves and out of hers at one of the Mayor's Balls way back when. I don't remember which one of the Mayor's Balls it was; there are so many. I still don't know why the Mayor holds all of those Balls one after another instead of spreading them out through the year. She's always increasing them, too: more and bigger. How can one pony take so many Balls? It doesn't make any sense! You can't have that many of Balls right next to each other; it causes friction. Things just don't work right; way too much can go wrong. Don't even get me started on that one time a bunch of them got twisted.

Spicy keeps trying to prove she's the better dancer by challenging me whenever we cross paths. I have no idea what the score is; but by the looks of her face, it doesn't seem to be in her favor.

But I know she's not upset because she lost Apple Sauce. Well... she probably was, but who knows how long ago that was. I can see it so clearly right now. How did I not see it before? Spicy Tail is angry at herself and is lonely, and she's just lashing out at me; because I'm an easy target. She's not wrong.

In my clarity, I am suddenly aware of the ponies in the crowd around us. Ponies don't mind getting close, but there is more nuzzling than I think I should expect. Now that I think about it, I've seen a noticeable increase in affection around town. It is not estrus season, though. Maybe that's making the Fire Chief upset?

"Hey, Spicy Tail!" I say to her while she's still in my muzzle finishing her angry compliment. I should apologize. I didn't do take Apple Sauce to be mean to Spicy. She was just really pretty, and I didn't know she had a date that night. Some mares are like that, and Saucy happened to be one of them.

The Fire Chief turns to me, and we look at each other in front of everypony. Close enough that I don't have to speak loudly for me to hear, I open my mouth to begin my apology, "I just-"

But then all that adrenaline and spinning and all that water I drank, finally find their orientation and move in a single direction: her muzzle.

**District 6, Southeast, Baltimare Ponice Department, Baltimare, Equestria**
**005 Summer CC**
**Detective Truth Seeker**

I briefly leave the station and stand outside. I put one of the little hay sticks up to my horn. My magic lights the hay-cig, and I take a comforting drag on the magical grass. It's a paperwork day today: updates on the colt case; that pie-throwing party pony; finding the monkey and the banana and the connection between those two and the stuffed bear.

A few more ponies walk by acting ‘lovey dovey.’ Their sides are touching; every few steps, they naturally drift apart and then give a gentle bump to reconnect. I wonder when I’ll see Rem again.

Worst part about this job is the paperwork. Sometimes, it just piles up, and even I have to deal with it eventually. When I got back to the station this morning after all that fire brigade dancing mess, there were a few more witness statements waiting for me.

Ponies saw the cordoned area by the docks. It is natural that they will talk with each other and make rumours, and eventually some ponies will trickle in to the precinct to offer a statement. 'I think I saw this,' or, 'my friend saw that.'

Everything has to be documented and investigated. Ponies don’t falsely testify against their neighbors as a general rule and is frowned upon heavily, but different perspectives and misunderstandings are different animals. Part of a ponicemare’s job is to verify and validate. That’s just how it is.

Luckily, I have a few low-ranked ponicemares assigned to me to do those tedious things for me, but they can't do paperwork that is specifically tasked for me. Certain things require my signature. Something tells me that Cinnamon Light and Trussed Pardon are not the types of ponies to learn how to reproduce my writing flawlessly.

I also have a special document I've been working on which only I can do, and today is as good as any day to do it since I am at the station.

My hay-cig is down to a nub. "Ugh~" These things never last long enough. I looked into it a while back. It is not possible to create an infinite hay-cig or an infinite anything. Even the Sun isn’t an inexhaustible source, and one would be caught immediately if attempting to tap into that.

There is a type of magic which can appear create matter from seemingly nothing by converting the molecules of the air, but the magic-to-mass ratio would expend far more of the former to produce the latter. It’s just too inefficient to rearrange all those protons for a consumable item.

It's better to use a little magic to encourage the source plant to grow and process it more naturally.

Of the comprehensive catalogue of spells, few are necessary for everyday life. Most unicorns get by with a little levitation and a narrow scope of household utility spells. The bulk of the thaumatic catalogue is kept well-regulated; the vetting process to learn those things is thorough. It’s possible this has stalled the progress of the species, but there aren’t any nations on the planet that are overly dependent on magical advancement.

It's not a paradise without some dangers, but things are nice. That doesn’t sound so bad, I guess.

There is nothing happening outside today; I suppose that makes it a normal day. Well, I guess it’s time to get back to it. I press the tiny flame out and drop the remains in a receptacle. The Chief has a few around the Station for me that won’t accidentally combust. Awfully nice of her.

I’m getting too pensive.

There is a somewhat special statement I have to document today. The city sanitation engineer, one of several little smoozes employed by the city to go around and eat yucky things on the ground or wherever they can reach, is here and claims to have seen a green pegasus colt near Docks 4-5 east of Pier 7 on the day in question.

We only know it was there due to the residue on the ground in a nearby alley which means it might have information that the other witnesses were not able to provide.

But I can’t understand a thing it says. So, I asked it to hang around while I went on break and forget about the problem for a little while. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything happening in the streets to give me a satisfactory reason to ditch the whole scene.

Walking back into the station, SGT Rocky Road, my old partner is at the front desk. She's putting up some decorations and laughing to herself about some joke only she knows. A few empty pie tins poke out of one of her reception desk drawers.

"Oh, hey, Truthy!" She calls to me as I almost successfully snuck past her. She's just as bubbly and cheerful as always -poor, unfortunate soul that she is.

I look at her and nod, "Sergeant," and then resume my way to the slime creature at my desk.

She calls to me, "Oh? Truthy! Hi~ have a wonderful day. You can come talk with me any time you want to. We can have some fun~!"

I can only sigh. She's utterly corrupted and lost. If only I could have saved her before it was too late yet one more failure in my life -staring at me, laughing, mocking.

The sanitation department employee is sitting in a chair by my desk. Legends say the creatures are world enders, but those same tales say one has to be even larger than a mountain for something like that. I’ve never seen one this large, either; although, this one isn’t much larger than a foal.

Despite its size, it is not likely young. It has a full-time job for the city, after all.

As I move back around my desk and sit down, I apologize, “Sorry about that. Now, where were we?”

“Glug glug glug,” it says.
<<“I was trying to introduce myself, but then you excused yourself.”>>

Ugh, it sounds like it’s gargling. Before I can resume this, the smooze sets a few papers on my desk with its little arms.

Baltimare General
Patient Name: Jellibelle
Date of Admittance: 093 Spring CC
Cutie Mark: N/A
Tribe / Colors: smooze; light red, translucent
Symptoms: Patient exhibited physical stressors and dehydration typical with blunt force upon plasmoid membranes and loss of gelatin.
Treatment: Rehydration, rest

Huh. This could be an important clue. It confirms the evidences that a young colt pegasus on the day and locations in question came into contact with a slime in that alley. Now, if I can only get some more details out of it.

“Jellibelle?” I ask the gooey creature.

It nods, “Glug glug glug.”
<<“That’s my name. It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.”>>

“Um,” I have no idea what it’s saying, “Do you mind if I make a copy of this?”

It smiles, “Glug glug glug.”
<<“You can keep that, if you like.”>>

Right. Maybe there is a way to bridge this, “Do you know how to write?”

It replies, “Glug glug glug.”
<<“I can.”>>

“Here.” I hoof over some paper and a writing utensil, “Please fill out a statement about what happened, and I will look at it after I make this copy.”

It shrugs, “Glug glug glug.”
<<“Okay.”>>

The little smooze, Jellibelle, stretches its arms out to dip the quill in some ink and taps the extra before bringing it back to the paper. Looks like it knows what it's doing.

I grab a few other documents from my desk. One is a report that came in this morning about some plants that have been popping up around the city. They don't seem malignant but a few of the locations concurs with those in the Colt Case; however, a few do not.

The other document is my own: a request to publicize the Colt Case. It has to go through the Chief, then the district councilmare, and finally the Mayor. Unfortunately, if the slime can't help us narrow down the identity of the colt or where he went, its testimony only serves to bolster the existing evidence. Without a defined lead, I need to do something to make one.

I'll make some copies of these. Well, I'll have the clerk make some copies. I think Punslinger is on duty today.

I'm sure the Chief won't like more reasons to interact with the councilmare, but I'm confident she will back me up on this. As for the mayor...

I open the center drawer just a little which shows some tickets. The Mayor sure loves her Balls.

**District 6, Southeast, Baltimare Ponice Department, Baltimare, Equestria**
**005 Summer CC**
**Predawn Remissions**

Seeker’s office: I've gotten to know it a little more this week. When she didn't return the other night, after our first snuggle time, she wandered into my office. The next day, I didn't see her, and I got worried; and Open Mic suggested I take some initiative.

Truth is much more willing to come over when I pick her up from work. It turns out, she has a pretty bad sense of direction and just couldn't find my apartment.

However, today is not a normal pick-up. Oh, no. I have big plans: I'm going to ask her out -like for a real date. And on this date, I'm going to ask her something important.

I want our friendship to be more than just a physical one. Although, I really do like our compatibility with that. I'm especially fond of the strange spell she uses when we snuggle.

She creates a magical cylindrical construct that makes it as though we each have a stallion while we snuggle even though there are no stallions present. Instead, we are affectionately connected by the construct, and somehow our most tender flowings exchange like some unicorns sparkling each other. It’s strangely invigorating.

Seeker calls this spell, 'The Double-Headed Serpent,' but I’ve never heard of such a spell before; and I've had to study the names of many back in law school. In general, magical constructs are a restricted spell. However, if Seeker made the spell or received permissions to learn it, then there isn’t anything wrong legally.

Most homemade spells involve a decent amount of accidents, and that's how they're discovered. But if she created a stable one on her own, then nopony would be particularly wise about its existence. With the way she uses the spell to intensify special somepony snuggling, Predawn can’t think of a reason to complain. As long as it is safe, then the law won't have a particular issue with it. It’s a rather benign way to use such complicated magic.

In theory, a unicorn could alter a safe spell like Light I without consequence by changing the color, because the base spell utilizes a pony's natural magic to flavor the spell. Most ponies don't have any need to alter it, but I did read an article about certain instances where different colored lights are necessary. A darkroom, for example, needs red light so that the images won't be ruined by the intensity of other colors.

A pony could purchase specialized light crystals for this as well, but a unicorn would not have to by altering Light I.

So, if I were to guess, it might be a variation of Minor Conjure I, "Astral Shape," but that construct is not robust enough to maintain itself during a snuggle session. That is unless Truth made her own. Given what I have seen of her, it is a possibility.

I doesn’t know for certain if Seeker considers us to be special someponies; but given the potency of our private activities, I thinks it’s an unsaid truth. That is what I plan to talk about tonight. I want a more significant friendship with Seeker than one just built on snuggling and to make our relationship official. I'm sure it will happen tonight!

A friendship that consists of only snuggling like having a cake that’s only frosting -nice in theory and at first… until you go for the second and third bites.

***Meanwhile, in Canterlot***
"Ugh!"
“What is it, Auntie?”
“Cadence… I- I think somepony somewhere just blasphemed cake.”
“…Seriously? I don’t think that’s- how do you even-?”
“-Please. Not right now, my niece. I just- I need to sit down for a bit... You know, I might feel so much better if somepony were to join me in my -our- Play Room~ where we definitely totally have lots of fun things to do~ wink, wink, hint, hint.”
“You said, 'wink,' out loud instead of… You’re lucky you’re cute, Auntie.”
“Oh, please. I’m adorable. Now, let’s go, you fuddy duddy old filly. Close the books! I’m going to have you giggling up a storm before the day is out. Tag! You’re it!”
“What? Hey!”
***Back in Baltimare***

That’s why I wants to spend more time with her: walking, talking, sharing, going on dates, getting to know each other -the whole deal. My chest flutters, and my stomach spins when I thinks about her; and I have been thinking about her a lot.

Inside the station, SGT Rocky Road is at the front desk.

When she sees me, her smile grows, "Ooh, Remmy! Hi. Seeker's here, at her desk."

I smile back, "Thank you, sergeant," and continue into the building towards the desks. They're all in one big room. The only pony with her own office is the station Chief. It's almost time to ask her out. There are butterflies in my stomach, and they are very awake.

And there she is, barking orders like the mare she is, "Light! Pardon!"

Two nature-ponies come at her call, and one says, "You're forgiven, Detective."

For a moment, one of Truth's eyes twitch, but she collects herself and continues, "I want you both to go to these places," and hoofs them both some documents. "You'll notice that you have been to some of them on the Colt Case. Others are new. I want to to look for some plants growing there that look new or like they don't belong. Take some photographs and samples. We're going to send those off to forensics to add to the evidence list if they are related incidents."

One with several browns and tans in her coat and mane says, "Sure thing, Detective."

Truth tells them both, "Good. Let me know what you find after you're done."

The other mare who has a muted yellow coat and a deep pink mane acknowledges her immediate superior, "See you later, Detective."

Seeker watches the two officers leave, but her eyes fall on to me. She blinks like she wasn't expecting me and then gets up and quickly walks over to me like she has a purpose.

As she reaches me, I start to say, "Truth, I-" but she spins me around to where my back is facing the ground, but she's holding me. As I'm suspended, she pulls me into a long, deep kiss in front of the entire ponice department.

Everypony seems to stop what they're doing and are seemingly shocked into silence at Truth's public display, and I'm suddenly very aware that my belly is exposed.

She ends the kiss, and I'm out of breath like I just finished a long run. While she has me in her forelegs, she tells me, "I missed you all day," and gently lets me back onto my hooves.

As I'm trying to calm my heart, I huff out a few words, "Dinner," and, "date."

"Yeah, that sounds good," she nods. "I'm hungry and in the mood now. So, Let's get out of here."

I agree and put my wing over her back, and she leans into me as we leave the station.

Before we exit, I can hear the Chief Inspector telling the whole department they ought to follow Seeker’s golden example, "Nopony is as marely as that mare, and everypony ought to live their lives trying to be!"

The butterflies in my tummy are not slowing down. Okay, Predawn Remission, you can do this. Make her your mare tonight.

**Baltimare, Equestria**
**005 Summer CC**
**Terracotta**

“Terracotta?” The famous changeling himself, the one who the Queen favours, Kevin, asked as he emerged from some place unseen having arrived right on time for the scheduled briefing. It's one of our secure locations, but he still snuck in past all of our security. Someling would have told me if he arrived, and none did.

I straighten and answer, “Yes, sir.”

He wonders, “Do you prefer: Terry or Terra?” He just showed us that our best guards and detection protocols were elementary to him, and he pretends like it isn't even worth mentioning.

I don't really know what to say, “Uh~” Noling has ever called me anything else before.

He rubs his chin with a hoof saying, “‘Terra’ sounds prettier and stronger. I’m going to go with that.”

The carapace on my cheeks start to feel noticeably warm, but I should change the subject back to the purpose of this gathering, “I t- think you swapped out with me smoothly. None of the ponies seemed to notice anything. It’s a little surprising.”

He raises an eyebrow, “How so?”

“Well," I answer, "she’s a strange pony. She almost always… what are the words you used last time? ‘Drunk,’ and, ‘high,’ and… uh…?”

He waves it off, “You don’t need to know those words like, <> I doubt there's a hoofful of those on the entire planet; so, there's not really a need to waste the brain-space, but I know you know what the word, ‘drunk,’ means.”

I shift on my hooves pensively, “In an academic sense, yes, in the way that the concept of, ‘love-drunk,’ is a term that involves the word. Everyling thinks that state of being could exist, but has anyling ever experienced it?”

He tilts his head at me, “They didn’t talk about ponies’ vices in your specialty training back at the Hive?”

I shrug, “Briefly. But this pony doesn’t even fit that mold. They way she uses those things is more than that.”

Kevin nods, “She’s probably trying to numb herself.”

“‘Numb herself?’” I ask, "Why would somepony do that?"

He conjectures, “I’d wager something in her life was particularly poignant, and she doesn’t want to remember or feel anything about it anymore.”

In silence, I soberly absorb this information. Ponies are extremely happy and loving creatures. It is the reason why they are the most desired and abundant food source in all the lands. They also have an uncanny ability to recover from stresses that would leave lasting imprints on other creatures -changelings included. It sounds almost unbelievable that a pony alive in this era has gone through such tribulations that it would cause such a drastic desire to flee from one's own mind.

After allowing me a moment, he continues to explain, “Changelings have hard lives. You know that emotions are food for us, but they’re not food for ponies." I nod while he talks, "Our emotions are not food for either us or them; so, there isn’t an exact parallel, but pony emotions affect ponies differently than changeling emotions affect changelings… Sorry if I’m rambling.”

I now shake me head, “No, sir, it’s okay. I’ve never heard a changeling being philosophical before.”

He scrunches his face briefly as though thinking, 'I don’t know if that qualifies as philosophical but whatever,' and then asks me, “Did you do the preliminary investigation that I asked?”

“Yes~ I have it here," I say and procure a folder from under my elytra, "along with something on the other ponies in that ponice office.”

He receives my work with a, “Thank you.”

I tell him, “We usually don’t document these types of things-”

“-I know," he cuts me off, "it’s not normal, but this is not a normal situation. We have to be very thorough; we can’t make mistakes with this one.”

I nod, but I am still confused. He probably sees my lack of certainty about the whole situation. It is difficult to find the right information when you don't know what is sought or which might be the most useful.

After looking at some of the documents, he says, “You have her time listed for her service as a ponicemare and her age listed, but these don’t seem to add up right. Was she hired as a filly?”

What? I copied the information from their files exactly. I don't know why there would be an error.

I stutter as I respond, “Uh, no… at least, I don’t think so.”

Kevin changes the subject, “Her parents- did you investigate them at all?”

I'm having a hard time following this briefing of his, “Her parents? She never talks about them-”

He cuts me off, “-I didn’t ask that.”

“N- no," I say with shame. Clicks and clacks, I must have mucked this assignment up all kinds of ways, "I didn’t look into her family herd. Why do you ask? Unless a pony is living with them or in regular contact-”

Again, he doesn't wait for me to finish, “-I know what the protocols are. I introduced many of the updates.” He doesn't sound upset, but he must be. Wait. Updates? How old is Kevin?’

“The reason I ask," he says, "is because these names look fake.”

Now I'm really confused, “What do you mean? I used the information from the ponice files exactly. Besides, they look like normal pony names to me.”

He holds up the document so I can see it, “Fact Acquirer, Knowledge Enterprise. F-A-K-E. Also, they both mean the same thing: truth and seeker. That’s just her name written in different ways.”

What? “That," I need an excuse for my grievous error, "could just be a coincidence, and ponies do tend to name progeny with those types of conventions.”

He goes back to looking through my written report and keeps the same serene tone, “I don’t believe in coincidences." It's as though he's entirely sure of the outcome and is only going through the motions to achieve the ending, "and I don’t think the powers of this world believe in them either. Where does she live?”

I answer, “The detective pony has an address, but I’ve never been able to find out what it is.”

“What do you mean?” He asks, "Did you verify the address written here?"

I resign with a shrugs, “She never goes home. She sleeps wherever. Whenever. Inside, outside. Sometimes she just wanders into ponies’ houses and passes out; nopony ever seems too upset about it. Sometimes she sleeps in the middle of a road, on a bench, or a ditch. It's like the whole town just gives her a pass. Lately, she’s been staying with a some lawmare when the bat picks her up from work but only when she gets picked up apart from the first time on the 2nd of Summer. Otherwise, she just wanders around till she drops and tends to find her way into businesses that noling thought existed. Following her around has actually increased our resource network considerably.”

He thinks to himself out loud, "Only major change in her activities is the marefriend." To me he asks, “But you know she has an actual place of residence? You're sure of it?”

I confirm, “She’s mentioned having something a few times. I think it is a long-term storage unit or a cart in a secure long-term space.”

Tapping the papers, he concludes, “After reading this, I’d say it’s probably both: a cart locked in a long-term storage unit. I want you to task a team to look for this.”

“Yes, sir.” I turns to a shadow nearby and signal my best, “Tarsomere.”

She steps out of a shadow with an almost warrior-like countenance, “Yes, ma’am.”

Kevin just stares at her, “… You’re a ‘Tarry,’ too?”

Too? I can't help but shudder when he says that. Didn't he call me, 'Terra,' because it sounds 'pretty and strong'? He decided against Terry. I'm not able to completely hold in the wounded feelings in my voice and whisper, “I thought you wanted to call me, ‘Terra,’ not, ‘Terry.’” Why do I care so much about this all of a sudden?

He looks at me and says lightly, “I do.” For some reason, I let out a sigh of relief.

But then Tarsomere asks, “D- does, ‘Tarry,’ sound pretty and strong, too?” You~ He complimented me first.

He turns to her and replies, “Y~es. Yes, it does.” He doesn't sound quite as convinced as he was with me, and I feel relieved until she smiles at his answer. Almost gently now, he tells Tarry, "You’ll need some lings to pick locks and others as lookout. You might need one who can detect security spells and alarms.”

She answers crisply, “Yes, sir. I know just the ones.”

He nods, “Good luck, Tarry," and she blushes as she leaves.

Tarsomere, that dirty bug... I want to be praised, too...

While I'm lost in myself, he returns to my report, “… There are too many irregularities in this report.” Oh. Instead of praise, I get criticized!?

Kevin, why are you angry all of a sudden? What made this change? What did I do? “I- I’m sorry! I did the best-”

He holds up a hoof, and I stop immediately, “-It’s not your fault, Terra.” W- what? “It’s this pony. Something strange is going on.” I start to breathe again. I guess I was holding my breath, but he continues, “I mean, it’s already a strange pony given the circumstances, but all of this looks like some sort of cover-up.”

“Cover up?” I'm not sure where this is going anymore. I'm so exhausted. Stallions.

Kevin verifies, “Yeah~ and the fact she’s hunting that specific colt makes this even more concerning.” How does he know about that colt? Looking up and at me, “Make sure you emphasize that when you report back to Her for me.”

'Report back to her.' Ah. I'm being taken off this assignment. I'll be at Her mercy which likely means one thing, “Yes, sir. For a moment there, I almost thought I was a goner.” Ah-! I clap my forehooves over my mouth. Oh, buck; oh, buck. Why can’t I keep my stupid mouth shut!? Why did I say that? Of course, I'm a goner.

There is not enough food to tolerate failures, after all.

Kevin stops. He just stops, looks at me seriously, and lets the silence settle. Why is he so marely in his approach to things? Stallions in leadership roles -even amongst Changelings- tend to come off more angry, shrill, and bossy. Everything's an emotional rollercoaster with them; but Kevin has always been calm, collected, and decisive. Maybe I'm the one who has been emotional.

He says with an eerie peacefulness, “Terra, I have never encountered a ‘ling that I cannot work with. Even the densest drones and most ornery warriors have their uses, and you have far more mental faculties than they do. I will never waste life that I’m given responsibility for, and you're mine. I can only send messages like these these with the most capable of changelings. I expect you to report back to me after delivering these updates to her Majesty. ”

Report back to him? He doesn't intend to replace me? Can it be true?

I also heard rumors that he never assigns changelings to dangerous missions, but I never thought it was real. Instead, he takes those assignments on himself; so, he’s definitely not squirmish when it comes those things. What changeling could rise through the ranks and gain Her favour without stepping on a few 'lings on the way?

Why, though? We all know that we live and… and die at the Queen’s pleasure. We’re all taught that we’re disposable and interchangeable even though there are clear delineations between certain classes -drone, infiltrator, warrior, etc. Why would he go out of his way to place value on everyling? On anyling? If I had made such a blunder in front of any other captain or -Hive forbid- the Queen herself, I really would have been a goner. It makes no sense.

I’ve never heard of him nesting with anyling before, either. Maybe I have a shot here.

He's waiting patiently. Oh, right: delivering his updates, “Do you have anything to add to my report before I complete the hoof-off?”

He nods and says, “Tell her, ‘I’ve locked on target and begun pursuit,’ ‘I’d like you to return as a consultant,’ and," he pauses for a moment before adding, "'I miss her.’”

Author's Note

William M. Buttlicker.

Hand-off -> hoof-off

Just a heads up, there is something coming up at my job which might alter my publication schedule. It would likely manifest as a weekend update instead of Friday morning, but it’s not confirmed yet. I’ll make the announcement if that happens.