Drill Bit wasn’t a fan of corruption, nepotism or any other buzzword one would use to describe when they saw a government run by flawed ponies. Such a thing was a fact of life and he was an honest pony, working an honest life.

But even he had to admit, having a friend in high places had benefits.

Only an hour after Cazrel had left and he found himself standing outside an oak door with frosted glass, Work Office Administrator Ballpoint’s nameplate spelled out on the top.

“Well, time to see what the blueblood’s made of.”

Taking a deep breath, Drill knocked on the door and after confirmation, pushed through.

To his credit, Ballpoint’s office wasn’t some opulent gold decorated throne room. Compared to Drill’s old Forepony office it was fancy sure, but not decadent.

Oak bookshelves and towering stacks of file cabinets lined the walls, his desk and chairs likewise polished to a shine and a large window with its blinds half-closed gave the room whatever natural light the sun still shined.

The paper white unicorn himself cleaned his round-rimmed glasses before returning to his new guest.

“Drill Bit?”

“Hello Administrator,” He forced a smile. “May I have a seat?”

“O-Of course, I’m sorry I…wasn’t aware you’d be visiting me today.” Ballpoint also seemed a little panicked which was odd given the context.

“Yeah,” Drill replied as he sat down, “Well I can assure it’s for an issue that can’t wait. It’s about a colt that lost his wing. I was hoping I could adopt him.”

“Well that’s easy enough, why would you have to come to me about it?” Ballpoint chuckled.

“Because I was given a week’s wait and the faster I can get him out of Ironside Row the better.”

The unicorn’s smile waived and he returned to his papers, flicking through too many to count with a reading speed that would’ve made a librarian blush.

“Celestia knows what actual coffee would do to him.”

In less then a minute he paused and looked back at him, his expression uneasy. “I can arrange something, speaking of which I do believe we’ve found a spot for you.”

Drill raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”

“Blackrock Row Coal Mine, I believe your experience and knowledge of geology would prove irreplaceable down there.”

A soft sigh escaped Drill’s throat as his smile left him.

“Uh yeah no thanks, I’ve seen enough accidents to know where that’ll go. Never mind breathing in coal dust everyday.” He scorned, of all the ponies to lose his composure in front of, he knew for a fact Ballpoint wasn’t one of them. Noble bureaucrat or not this one pony decided his fate.

Still, he knew what kind of life that would entail and it wasn’t one he was ready to jump back into, especially with today’s standards. Too much mineral dust and not enough masks, ten or more hour shifts and the ever present threat of accidents doing him in.

So with a cough in his hoof to clear his throat, he continued. “With all due respect sir, I was hoping I could transfer to the Hothouses with the kid, it’d be safer and I could keep an eye on him.”

Ballpoint didn’t seem to agree, his smile straining and eye twitching at the idea.

“Administrator, Mr. Drill Bit, and while I no doubt see the value in keeping the young boy safe, I believe it would be better if you took this job and he remained at the plant.”

Drill’s own eyebrow twitched.

“Well I have a doctorate which technically makes me a doctor,” He shot back, “But I do strongly believe it would be wise if I could watch over him within a safe environment. You can’t imagine the trauma going back there is causing him. And Celestia forbids he potentially get into another accident.”

Ballpoint’s smile had turned flat, his patience starting to wane.

“You need to understand it wouldn’t just be me your inconveniencing, I’d have to pull ponies from other places and besides, no job is ever one-hundred percent safe, accidents can happen anywhere.”

Drill rolled his shoulders and prepared to speak, but just as the first syllable left his vocal cords, Ballpoint cut him off, further stirring the boiling pot.

“It’s up to the administrative staff directing those under them to ensure workplace safety.” He lowered his tone. The unicorn then slowed his speech, speaking clearly and hardening his gaze at him. “To echo myself, better training on those safety standards would prevent those kinds of accidents, like what happened at the Ore Plant.”

“Buck this, no way he’s going to help.”

“I’ve heard enough.” Drill spoke as he climbed from his seat, and in less then a moment his hoof was twisting the door handle.

“Mr. Drill Bit? Where are you going?!”

The stallion turned back to Ballpoint, any semblance of forced emotion gone, leaving only a hard glare.

“To the top.”

Drill Bit and Cazrel stood side by side in front of a door. It didn’t bear any likeness to the fancy oak wood and frosted glass of Ballpoint’s nor was it some ramshackle set of boards with a few nails and hinges.

Instead, it looked like any other door in Canterlot, sturdy and well built but with one notable exception.

The two armed guards standing outside with their rifles to their sides, occasionally catching a glance at the newcomers.

Cazrel arched his head down, a tinge of nervousness evident as he twiddled his thumbs. “You sure about this DB?”

Drill looked up at him and nodded. He might’ve been better at hiding it but Drill was faring no better. “Yeah, worst comes to pass. I get another three days in jail, no biggie…” He then turned back to the door. “No biggie…”

Another long moment of silence passed as they waited, accompanied by the sounds of a muffled conversation playing out in the room beyond.

Drill broke the silence.

“Thanks by the way, for giving me this chance.”

“No problem, I just hope he’s in a good mood today.”

Not a second too soon the doorknob twisted and a pegasus walked out, having finished their talk. Drill took another deep breath and went inside while Cazrel waited.

The room wasn’t all that impressive or over the top, a generic meeting room with a large table and lots of chairs. But that wasn’t important, rather it was who Drill now shared the room with.

A crimson red coated unicorn with a dark grey mane and bright, scarlet eyes met his. Clad in a red and black military uniform without his overcoat or officer’s cap which instead sat on a chair. An oppressive aura of authority radiated from the stallion like a potent calone or powerful heater.

Worse still, The moment his eyes were upon him Drill felt as though a lead weight was dumped onto his shoulders. Made all the harsher by the captain’s persistent, unforgiving frown.

“This is it, make a good impression.”

“Captain Iron Might, my name is Drill Bit. Have you heard of me?”

The stallion panned his gaze across him, as if to judge if he was worth speaking to but after a moment he answered. His voice was low and somewhat gravelly but if he held any disdain for him, his expression showed none of it.

“Yes, you’re the forepony who saved that kid.”

“Mhm, and tried starting a petition but uh…” Drill rubbed his forehead, immediately regretting that he’d brought it up. “It…didn’t go anywhere.”

Iron Might didn’t seem to care much about the petition and merely snorted. “Right, well cut to the chase.”

“I’ve been wanting to adopt him and get us both a transfer to the Hothouses, after such a traumatic injury It would be best if he worked somewhere safe with somepony he can trust.”

“And what’s been stopping you?”

“Administrator Ballpoint Pen, sir.”

Iron Might tore his steel gaze away and idly looked around, pacing the table lost in thought. With an aura of bright red energy he levitated his cap up and inspected it.

Drill almost held his breath at his answer, he worded it well enough didn’t he?

“Here’s the problem, this isn’t the Equestria we know anymore,” he started, almost sounding rehearsed at this point.

“No, apparently not.”

“We don’t do these things to be evil, Drill, we do them because we’re pragmatic, and nopony’s going to care about morals when we’re all buried under ten hooves of snow.” Iron then fixed his glare back at Drill, which while may not have been intentional, was hard enough to bore a hole through his forehead. “And those Diamidians aren’t helping, bucking cannibals.”

“So you’re agreeing with him?” Drill said with a hint of a sneer, though it was hard to argue with his logic.

“In short, yes. This is a new age and everypony has to play their part, lest we freeze, burn or worse. We can worry about classrooms when we can stop worrying about slave collars.”

Drill felt a rise within him, the familiar flames of anger flaring up once more as he lowered his head. His limbs stiffened and his breathing quickened.

“No, this isn’t right.”

The captain raised an eyebrow as Drill lifted his head up again, clear anger boiling over his face as days of pent up frustration elevated his voice.

“I have tried time, after time, after time again to do the right thing and you know what I get for it? I get starved, exposed to the elements, cast aside by a system that treats bucking children as expendable labour. We’re not cogs sir, we’re ponies!”

Iron rolled his shoulders not saying anything, his piercing stare battling against Drill’s dogged determination.

“At this point I don’t care if it’s “for a greater good” or because “that’s just how things are now.” I had to contend with that kind of bucked up logic while working on the Generator and now both my wife and his parents are dead because of it, so I’m going to do what’s right if it bucking kills me!”

The air inside the room settled into near silence, Drill’s breathing being the sole outlier as Iron continued staring at him.

“Are you willing to hold yourself to that son?”

Finally a lease, Drill slowed his breathing and returned to a more neutral state before replying.

“Yes sir, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Another moment’s silence passed as Iron darted his eyes over the stallion. “Very well, I’ll see to it you’re properly transferred, but I don’t want to hear another word about this, understood?”

“Yes, sir…”

Iron nodded and gestured towards the door. Without another word Drill Bit took his leave and closed it behind him, taking a deep breath in, holding it, and letting it go.

“So…how’d it go?”

For the first time in seemingly ages, Drill Bit walked the streets of New Canterlot with a smile.

Between cutting through all the bureaucratic red tape and not being thrown in jail again, things were starting to look up. Whether or not the Captain would deliver on his promise was still to be seen but with any luck he’d hear back shortly.

What would it be like working at a Hothouse? He may have been an earth pony but he only ever tried growing potatoes in his back garden and even then that was more for a joke when he was young.

“Never too old to learn new skills I suppose, I hope the rumours about farmers being fed better are true. It’s been forever since I've had a fresh carrot.”

Before all that though he had to make some preparations. A new bed for Comet, buy some furniture, maybe even a nightlight and some story books if they had them. Nopony ever knew for certain what new item would crop in the surplus store next so saving what little money they earned was always encouraged.

It certainly helped that food didn’t require money, only a stamp and a ration book.

But before all that he’d need to cut through the city centre…where the Generator stood.

Many a memory lay with that damn machine. If Drill could’ve chosen a room that didn’t have a view of it, he would’ve taken it in a heartbeat, but such a thing was outside his control.

It wasn’t that he hated technology itself, it was more the overuse of it that made his skin crawl. The Generator was a marvel of modern engineering and a monument to what ponykind could achieve, yet at the same time the sounds it made graded against his ears.

The churning of metal pipes and pistons, cogs and gears, exchanges and outtakes. It was an array of machinery too complex for a single pony to understand. Like a living body all on its own right nevermind the city it sustained.

“Well, maybe Fire Heart would understand it, she wrote all the books.”

Drill was thankful then he wouldn’t have to stand by it for very long as the public space surrounding the Generator was fairly open. A team of ponies were busy shovelling coal into its belly with a wagon pulled up ready to deliver more, but little else impeded him.

He’d just have to scamper on by and be on his way…

Or at least that’s what he thought.

A few ponies were standing around looking up at something off to Drill’s right, some half confused, some half concerned.

Out of curiosity he sparred a glance and when he did his heart stopped.

Up high above clinging to one of the Generator’s external frames…

…Was Comet Trail.

Author's Note

Captain Iron Might was in charge of the 3rd Company of the Mount Canterhorn Infantry Brigade, sent to maintain order at what would become New Canterlot's Generator during construction. But when the site administrator went missing during the Great Storm, there was no clear leader for the city and so Iron Might stepped up.

Whether the administrator's disappearance was accidental or orchestrated is still a hot topic.