Later, Sudden Storm and Soaring Heart were parked on a cloud over Ponytown. “Is Rapid Transit always like he was during lunch?” Sudden Storm asked.
“To be honest, yes and no. He is a very pleasant pony to know, and gets along with most anypony he meets. He DOES have a phobia of addressing groups, being the center of every pony’s attention, so he hides that by being almost clownish. He’s so paranoid about fitting in, wanting to belong to groups, it can be tough to live with.
“One thing to note is that you really should not get him angry. He will defend what he feels is his, be it friends or family, with everything he can muster. What’s unusual is that he has come up with his best spells when he is either angry or frightened, and can’t really explain how he did it after.” Soaring Heart explained.
“He struck me as being kind, polite and funny, yet also scared out of his wits. The only time I saw him calm during lunch is when the kids got their presents, and when he was talking about the distilling units.” Sudden Storm said.
“When he’s sure of what’s going on or what he’s talking about, he’s calm. Otherwise, he’s fearful of putting a hoof wrong.” Soaring Heart said wryly. “I told him he didn’t have to worry.”
“He didn’t, and neither do you. Friends are good to have, and his subway talent enables us to be friends together, rather than over a radio.”
“Why do you think I named him Rapid Transit?” Soaring Heart said with a smile.
“So, you named him. I can see why. What do you have to offer us, Madam Ambassador?”
“Just the opportunity to be friends with you. You know more about controlling weather than I do. Something I would like to learn more about. Books are one way to learn, but I like having someone show me ways that work.” Soaring Heart told the Mayor.
“Let’s get to work, shall we?” Sudden Storm said. For the next couple of hours, Sudden Storm demonstrated then drilled Soaring Heart on cloud control techniques she had learned on her own.
Down in the back room of the former Wal-Mart, Artie was pacing around, with Swift Quill, Rich and Greg in attendance. “Now, from what I gather, this find-it spell does not require intimate knowledge of the storage area, but it helps. What you DO need is a clear image of what you’re looking for. Best is to actually have a sample on hand, even an empty carton. You can define the search for the specific brand, or a generic type. Like when I search for coffee, I can search for Tim Horton brand, or any ground coffee, or coffee beans, or espresso roast, or all of the above.
“If you don’t know exactly what you’re looking for, the spell may not work, due to lack of adequate definition.” he said as he looked at the pile of goods. “One of you, ask me to find something, anything that is back here.”
“A necklace with a fake diamond crystal in the front, teardrop shape, on a gold-looking chain.” Swift Quill provided.
“Okay. Pay attention, maybe you can figure out how I do this. I think I know what you are tawkin about.” Artie focused on the words, his horn lit up, then flared. A silvery flash lit up the room like a flashbulb, then faded.
“Right. This way.” He walked over to a pile of boxes, then started shifting them in a deliberate manner, like he knew exactly what he was looking for, which he was. Within thirty seconds, he held up a white jewelry box. “There’s this one here, five more in the pile, and six more in another direction. Once anypony touches this with a hoof, I’ll forget where the others are.”
“Before you do, where are the others that are not in this pile?” Greg asked.
Artie put the box down on the floor. “I’ll show you.” He led the group to another part of the store room. Pointing with his horn, he said, “Four boxes down from the top, three boxes to the right, a brown box with six white boxes inside, all alike. Someone else dig them up, okay?”
Rich did, moving the other boxes aside with his blue glow until he uncovered the box. He pulled the box out and opened it, revealing the six white boxes. Carefully, he opened a white box, revealing the necklace described. “Well, I’m impressed.” he said.
Artie’s ears twitched. “Parlez-vous Francais?” he asked, it coming out more like ‘parley-voo frawn-SAY’.
Rich grimaced at Artie’s horrible pronunciation. “Oui.” he replied.
“Good! If I ever need to go to Montreal, you’re coming along. I got me one spot up there.” Artie said in his usual blunt manner, this time rankling Rich some. “Now, since you done seen what I can do, anyone else wanna try?”
Swift Quill held up a hoof. “Can you try casting the spell again, but slower this time? We’ll do our best to ‘listen’ to the casting.”
“Sounds like a plan. What should I dig up this time?”
Greg went to another pile and rooted through it. He pulled out something and brought it to Artie. “Do we have any more of these specifically?” he asked, referring to the candle he had handed over.
“Let’s find out.” Artie stared at the candle and focused. Again, his horn flared, the other three unicorns watching and feeling the spell go off. Of the three, the only one who showed understanding was Greg, the one with the least training.
“By George, said John, I think Paul lost his Ringo…” Greg breathed, impressed by what he had just learned.
“Well, ya beetle it out?” Artie asked.
“I think so…” Greg said. “Somebody, find something for me to look for, please.”
Rich went over to a pile and dug something out, Greg careful not to look in that direction. “Here, find this.” he said, passing Greg a small stuffed teddy bear. “Same size, different color. Find the closest one.”
Greg looked the teddy bear over, then closed his eyes. His horn flared, and his eyes suddenly snapped open. “I see…” he said, dropping that bear and walking to the pile next to the one Rich had dug in, and quickly pulled out a bear, white instead of brown, the same size as the first. “It worked…”
“Yes, but how?” Swift Quill asked. “I sensed the spell, but it didn’t feel quite right, like it… echoed…” she trailed off lamely, trying to explain what she sensed.
“That’s because it’s not A spell, but more than one spell working in concert.” Rich said. “There’s the identifying part, the seeking part, and the reporting part. I managed to figure that out, but what I can’t figure out is how you got the parts to work together, Rapid Transit.”
“Please, it’s R.T., or if you really want to make it easy on you, Artie. I respect formality in its place, but this aint it.
“How I got to work them together, well, all I can say is damned if I know. I wanted coffee because I had run out, I had a warehouse that has over three MILLION items in it, and I had spent two hours soichin for it. Finally, I just got pissed off enough to scream, WHERE’S THE FRICKIN COFFEE!
“Right then and there, I knew where the ground coffee was. All of it, in the warehouse. Since then, I figured out how to work it, not how it works. That’s a whole different kettle of fish. One piece of advice, though… don’t ask for a whole inventory. It aint woith da headache, trust me.”
“I’m still going to figure out how you manage the spell, Artie.” Swift Quill said.
“Hey, knock yourself out, Swifty. The one unicorn in Alexandria who could probably figger it out is also the one unicorn I wouldn’t give the time of day to if he asked. Not that he will, because he hates me as much as I hate him.” Artie said with more than a little heat.
“Why do you hate him so much?” Rich asked.
“Because he was rude to me and Soaring Heart on the phone when we first called in, and he hasn’t apologized for it yet! If he ever does, I might be cordial to the nerdy bastard, but now, I try to be civil with him, until he pisses me off.”
“How long does that take?” Swift Quill asked.
“About fifteen nanoseconds after we make eye contact. On a good day, thirty. There are some ponies who just rub me the wrong way, and he’s one a’dem.” RT practically snorted.
“Hey, why don’t we break for a cup of coffee or something?” Greg suggested.
“That’s a good idea. Have you tried coffee with fresh milk recently?” Swift Quill asked Artie quickly.
“Are you tryin to bribe me, sister? If you is, it woiked. Now, let’s get some coffee!” Artie said, his demeanor changing from extremely angry to exceptionally kind in about fifteen milliseconds. “You leads me through dis maze, okay?”
Later, Rapid Transit sat with the mechanics of the group and started sketching out his ideas about the distillation units. “If we get one, and it breaks down, youse ponies will be up the polluted tributary with no means of locomotion. I know they can be cranky sons of bitches, so I propose we get at least two, if not three.”
“Just how big are these distillation units?” Morgan asked.
“If I’m remembering right, about the size of a big desk for the main unit. That’s a Two-K machine. Nice thing about putting them in here is that we have lotsa elbow room to work with. On a sub, we barely had space to turn around without smacking into something. Don’t even ask about the berthing spaces.” Artie answered.
“What about the berthing spaces?” Karin asked.
Artie took on a pained look, like he had bitten into a particularly potent lemon. “I told you not to ask me about them, Karin.” he said in a pained voice, which made the four around the table laugh.
“You mentioned something about holding tanks?” Jeff asked.
“Yeah. You’re going to need a big holding tank inside for the fresh water output, some sort of pump assembly to get the water to your field out there, and most importantly, two big metal holding tanks outside to pump lake water into, suspended some in the air.”
“Why up in the air?” Serge asked.
“Think about it. How cold did it get here during the winter? Below freezing?”
“Well below.” Serge said before Morgan jumped in.
“I get it! Build it up high so we can build a fire underneath it to melt any ice that forms inside!” she said, her eyes wide.
Artie grinned. “I love it when the students can anticipate the teacher. Yes, you got it right. During the winter, you have a lower demand for water, so you won’t need to run the distillers as often. If we site the tanks right, you can shovel snow off the roof into the tanks, melt it, distill it, and hey presto, fresh water!”
“We may want two tanks inside, one for the field and one for household use, filling either as needed.” Jeff contributed.
“Jeez, ya don’t need me, does ya?” Artie said with a bit of a laugh. “All I gots ta do is find the distiller units for ya, we gets them here, do some jiggery-pokery for the power, then you builds the inside and outside plumbin.
“You know your needs better than I do, so I’ll leave the full how and where inside to youse folk. I’ll be happy to pitch in and gives ya a helpin hoof or two. Heck, maybe I can learn somethin from ya.”
“Just how good a mechanic are you, R.T.?” Serge asked.
“Me? I ain’t. I know enough to do strategic planning and figuring, the tactical I’ll leave to those better than I am. Why do you think I cleaned parking lots for two decades, then started working at Amazon for five years? I could barely work on cars.” Artie explained. That confession did more to cement Serge’s opinion, as well as swaying Morgan some away from the visiting DOWNSTATE New York pony.
“You pointed the way, R.T. We’ll take it the rest of the distance.” Morgan said with a little distaste.
“Hey, don’t be too hard on him, Morgan. He did think of something that we didn’t. At least they care enough to try, right?” Jeff said from his end of the table.
“Yeah, but he ain’t a gold-plated savior, either. I bet he’s even a Giants fan.” Morgan muttered
“No, Jets fan. Been a fan since Joe Willie was QB. At least the Jets DID win a Super Bowl, unlike the Bills.” Artie retorted.
“I preferred hockey over football.” Morgan said with a glare.
“The only good player I ever heard coming out of Buffalo was Miroslav Satan (pronounced zha-TAN, for those who like jumping to conclusions). Been a Rangers fan since I was a kid.”
“RANGERS? How could anyone back the Rangers?” Morgan shouted, jumping to her hooves and snorting. Artie stared back, his nostrils dilating, ready to snap back.
“Ponies, let’s break for a while, okay?” Jeff said quickly, interrupting the imminent war of words.
“Good idea.” Serge snorted.
Later that night, Sudden Storm was up in her radio porch, sorting through the flash drives she had been given. She whistled in surprise as she checked the one labeled ‘loose’. “Over seven thousand songs on here, all sorted by genre and artist. When did he find the time to put this all here?” she wondered aloud as she ran through the titles.
“About half of them, he already had. All sorted and organized. The rest, he put Coppertop on the job.” Soaring Heart said from the bottom of the steps.
Sudden Storm jumped a little at the unfamiliar voice. “You startled me! Come on up!” she called down quietly. Soaring Heart carefully climbed the steps. “Where’s Artie?”
“Sound asleep downstairs, Laddie curled up next to him. He didn’t get much sleep last night, fretting about today. Like the gift?”
“I’ve just started checking. With these, I can program the station for weeks in advance and not worry about it.” Stormy said with a little amazement.
“Each playlist is between fifty and fifty-eight minutes in length, and he did make a thousand of them, each one different, but each one in the same genre. You should find about ten hours of holiday music there, along with classical, big band, fifties, sixties, seventies, eighties, comedy, country, and modern. He had Coppertop do the modern stuff.”
“He did say he didn’t like the modern music.” Stormy observed.
“It’s the truth. The only modern music he likes is country, and not much of it. Frankly, being from London, I don’t understand much of the country music, but it does make him happy.” Soaring Heart told her hostess.
“He really does want to help us out, right?” Stormy asked.
“Oh, yes. He’s more than willing to do all he can to make your lives that much better. His water distiller idea has merit. I just hope you and he can make it happen.”
“Making the pipes, tanks and other plumbing, we can do. We do need the distillers. I hope he’s right in finding them.”
“I hope so too, Stormy. So does he. He does have an alternate plan, in case all else fails.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“Telegating to the submarine base he worked at, finding if there are any subs there, and taking theirs. He does not want to do that, because of the news from that direction, but if he has to, he will.”
Stormy whistled in appreciation. “He’s real dedicated to the idea of helping us.”
“That he is, and that’s what he will do, starting in the morning. Speaking of which, I’m heading for bed. IF I can get into it, that is.”
“He sprawls out a lot?”
“He and Laddie both. I can get Laddie to move. Vanna stays with Coppertop.”
“Get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be busy.” Stormy suggested.
“You get some sleep, too, Madame Mayor.”
Stormy glared at Soaring Heart, then snorted before smiling. “Will do, Madame Ambassador.”
Milton, Ontario, about an hour later…
Attila looked at his radio as different music started playing from the Ponytown station. After the song, something old that he did not know, he heard Sudden Storm say “That’s right, ponies, Ponytown has some new music, thanks to our new company from Alexandria. Thanks to Rapid Transit’s gift, we can remain on air twenty-four seven without being boring, repeating the same tunes over and over again.
“I’ll still pop on at noon and six with live updates, plus breaking news when applicable. I’m off to bed now, but I’ll keep things going through the night. Until tomorrow!”
As a song he recognized came over the radio, his assistant Nebulous Nimbus came in to where Attila was sheltering. “Bad news, boss. That pegasus bitch we captured back in Detroit, she managed to buck Samson and run off. We just found him. Doesn’t look good.” the red and yellow unicorn with the blue and purple frizzy mane reported.
The big black earth pony stallion just looked at his aide. “Will he be able to keep up with us tomorrow?” Attila asked.
“Doubtful, boss.” Nebulous Nimbus said. “I’m not sure he will live through the night. I was a paramedic, not a doctor.”
Attila sighed. Samson is one of the two ponies in his band who could use firearms, Attila himself being the other. “If he can’t keep up, he stays behind. Our objective is unchanged. Ponytown will be mine.” he stated, not as a hope, but as a fact of life that will not be changed. “Four more days before we get there.”
“Make it five, boss. We need to do more scavenging. We can still make progress, but foraging needs to be a priority if we are to arrive in peak condition.”
Attila thought about his band’s condition before nodding. A former Detroit gang leader before the Event, he did know that conditioning was essential if he intended to take Ponytown as his own. “Good point, Neb. How about training?”
“We have ten effective fighters. The pegasi won’t be much good in a fight, even if they knew how to fly, which they don’t. The two remaining captives won’t be any good in a fight, either. Should I dispatch a team to catch up with the pegasus bitch and off her? Samson said he did bust her up some before he got bucked.”
“No, Neb, let her go. As good a brawler Samson is, no need to waste troops searching for a crip at night. Too much of a chance of losing more effectives. Tinker have my weapons set?”
“Yes, he has, boss. He’s asleep now. We have two automatic pistols and a rifle adapted for your use, and two hundred rounds for each gun. He’ll want to see you in the morning for another harness fitting.” Neb reported.
“Okay. Go eat and get some sleep yourself, Neb. You’re more important now, with Samson down. I’m going to doze some myself.” Attila said.
“Got it, boss. See you in the morning.” Neb said before leaving the shelter.
Attila sprawled on a pile of blankets, listening to the radio. As he dropped off to sleep, he couldn’t help but think, “Soon, Ponytown. Soon you will be mine, and I can truly be a conqueror, like I deserve to be.”