"What do you mean the comms are down! They haven't worked since we got here!" Reginald explained to the Toppats he'd assigned to repairing the engine. It had been a week since they'd gotten everything they needed to repair the airship. "I don't care if you all can't stand to be off your phones for more than five minutes, we need to get the airship fixed!"
A week and Reginald wondered if he'd survive to see the ship take to the skies or keel over from stress. He did his best to respect his clanmates, he really did. But it was moments like these where remembered that most of them were idiots. He sighed at the confused expressions of the crew. "We'll fix the comms after we fix the engine."
Murmurs of agreement filled the room and the crew got back to work. Reginald climbed up the ladder out of the engine room and navigated his way to the bridge.
"Sir?"
He turned around to see Mist Veil walk towards him, trying to carch him on his way past. The pegasus pushed her glasses back up from where they slid down her nose.
"Yes? What is it?" he asked.
"Um, it's about the prisoner in the brig..."
"The prisoner in the brig?" it took him a moment to remember that yes, there was someone in the brig still, a security guard or something. "Oh... Him, what about him?"
"I just wanted to ask why we're keeping him locked up." Mist said.
"I... You know I can't recall..." Reginald wracked his brain but the reason, whatever it was, didn't come to mind. He looked at the mare, she had the look. The one he'd seen when she got an idea. And in the short amount of time he'd known her, an idea usually meant one of two things.
She either thought of something useful, like how she'd introduced them to the marvel of food preservation spells a few days ago.
Or it was such a nice thing to do that he wondered how she became a mercenary in the first place, like the pile of bits sitting in the vault.
"What is it Mist?"
"Can I look after the prisoner?"
"Explain." he ordered.
"I thought maybe I could convince him to join. Talk to him and... Stuff." Mist said as her left wing played with a loose strand of her mane.
It was a sound idea in theory, but not one Reginald trusted her with. Mist was eager to prove herself, true, but it didn't mean he was going to put blind faith in her abilities. The clan's future relied too much on her already and it was an incessant, nagging thought that Reginald hated. All it would take is Mist flying off and alerting her government of the airship's location before they finished repairs and any chance for the clan to survive would be dead in the water. He'd pulled this clan out of the wreckage when he became the leader all those years ago, reinstated the clan's old policies on trust and honor, and Reginald would be damned if he lost it all now because of one mare.
"No," he said curtly. "We can't risk him informing the authorities."
Mist nodded. "Fair enough, I'll be in my room if you need me."
Reginald watched her leave, he contemplated giving her something to do, a test, something to see if his concerns were valid, but he saw her daily for writing lessons and he knew from the security feed in the living quarters hallway that she only left her room to eat or follow orders. Her willingness to do whatever he or his Right Hand Man asked of her was... Unsettling. And then there was her health, he'd seen the way she barely moved in her seat during meetings, the instinctual reaction of a hoof flying to her chest in response to pain, and most days it was as if she was fine.
But Reginald would catch her looking envious at the crew's lunches, or staring out a window at the sky as her wings hung limply down her back. There was no way she was faking her condition. It meant the mare relied on the clan, he could kick her out and she'd be left with no one to help her.
Mist said it herself, no one wanted anything to do with her and it wasn't because of her choice of career.
The Toppat Chief felt a headache coming on as he walked into the bridge.
The new windshield was already in place and the repairs to the rest of the front was underway. Reginald saw his Right Hand Man looking out at the vast landscape, pensive.
Reginald stood beside him. "You know, Mist was asking about the prisoner in the brig..."
Right sighed. "She gettin' too nosy?"
"Not nosy per se... but aggravating, I don't like how much of a do-gooder she is. With how much of a key factor she is for our plans, I'm worried she'll bring this all crashing down on our heads." Reginald expressed his concern and Right made a noise in agreement.
"You need her put in her place," his second-in-command said thoughtfully. "Make sure she knows the future of the clan comes first."
"Precisely," Reginald nodded. "Although, I'm not sure how to go about it, appearing approachable and cordial with her has gotten us this far..."
Right looked over at him, as if the answer was obvious. "She's an ex-merc, jus' draw up a contract an' hire her until she earns her hat."
"You can't be serious? Surely it's not that simple." Reginald pointed out.
"We've seen her type before, a bootlicker tryin' to secure a good spot because it's the best, or only, option they 'ave. Can't get more simple that that," Right shrugged, calm as ever. "O'course you could threaten her, get her too scared to try anythin' but I dunno how that'll go in the long run. Could make her double down on those bad habits of hers."
"You have a point, we need to be delicate."
"Not we, You." Right stated and Reginald was stunned.
"I beg your pardon?"
"You're the one with doubts Reg, you're the one who 'as to talk it out with the girl, not me."
Reginald frowned, it was true he was the more sociable of the two of them, but if Right was adamant about what needed to be done then...
He voiced his conclusion. "You don't believe she could betray the clan, do you?" he asked.
"No, she's too honest, too respectful fot that. Would sooner 'urt herself than sell us out. Nearly did, too." Right said.
That wasn't what he expected to hear. "She did? When?"
"Saw her the morning after we got back from Las Pegasus, the girl was moving slower than usual an' looked like death. I reckon she jus' pushed past the pain for your lesson with her that day." Right explained and Reginald thought back to that day in particular, for he had noticed she'd been more subdued.
"She said she was still tired from the mission."
Right nodded. "She does that, makes it seem like she's fine when she's not," he gave Reginald a knowing look. "Told you she's a self-sacrificing idiot... Still, if your that worried about her pullin' a fast one us, then take her on a mission. Go to that village an' get a feel for how the locals see her. You've been meaning to do that anyway 'aven't you?"
"I have been meaning to scope out the village. I trust you'll hold down the fort while I'm away?"
Right smirked. "Sure thing, Boss."
Flying like this, as if riding some majestic steed in a fantasy epic, was exhilarating. Reginald was mesmerized by Mist's steady wing beats, the glimpse of her former strength as muscles moved and stretched to keep them in the air.
"Will you be alright?" he asked, his paranoia a small, niggling thought in the back of mind almost drowned out by the sense of freedom and wonderment he felt.
She could fly higher and knock him off, not that it would work, he had a parachute in his hat if the worst happened, but the thought was still there.
He was pulled from his thoughts by Mist's reply. "Yes, you're lighter than Right Hand Man and it's only a ten minute flight."
"What can you tell me about the village?" Reginald asked.
"Florenway is home to about a few hundred ponies, primarily earth ponies and unicorns," she explained. "The nearby mountains are dotted with herbs and the climate here makes farming a breeze, the village specializes in growing crops and herbs, which are exported to other parts of the kingdom."
She sounded resigned, defeated. "It's why I moved out here, I needed access to the right medication while being far enough away from my old stomping grounds that no one would find me."
He had assumed as much. "I take it you made a few enemies during your time as Bluebird?"
"No, but I was well-known by the public, I was wanted by the law, and a few of the bigwigs in the criminal world wanted to recruit me for my skill," the mare said. "I couldn't risk joining another crew at the time, I wasn't fit to do my job. Hay, I'm not fit to do my job now but I've improved... a bit."
"Really?"
"Well, yeah... I've had days where I could barely eat or sleep, where every little movement sent a spike of burning pain up my oesophagus, and flying to the village left my fatigued..." Mist sounded animated, frustrated. Reginald had never heard her be this lively. The mare wilted slightly, as if she made a mistake. "Sorry Sir, you have enough on your plate as it is. The village is just up ahead."
They landed smoothly, Mist waiting patiently for him to get off before swapping her flight goggles for her glasses and adjusting her saddlebags. Reginald looked around the village entrance, a simple dirt path with a handful of ponies milling about. A few of them were looking at Mist with disgust as the pegasus plodded down the path.
"I go by Bluebell while I'm here, a former weather pony too sick to work," Mist said as Reginald walked beside her on her left side. "My special talent's close enough to a weather-based one I can get away with it."
At the mention of her special talent, Reginald glanced down at the symbol on her flank. A white feather with beams of light coming of it, each of which was a different colour. Though the mark itself was as washed-out as the rest of her. His curiosity was piqued.
"What is your special talent?"
Mist stopped, clearly taking a moment to process the question. "Sir, you don't just ask a pony that, or look directly at their cutie mark unless it's for identification."
So, it was something private? A significant detail to be shared among close friends? Reginald filed the thought away for later, Mist looked rather uncomfortable about it.
"Forget I asked, so where to?" he steered the conversation on to a new topic.
"I need to go to the apothecary to pick up my meds," she replied, pointing to a large building by a rather modest plaza with a fountain in the center. "The plaza has the apothecary, an inn that doubles as the local watering hole, the town hall and the guardhouse."
"I'll wait for you outside, maybe question the locals." Reginald said as they reached the apothecary, Mist nodded and went inside.
It was as if her presence was a deterrent, for it wasn't long before Reginald was approached by an elderly mare.
He smiled cordially. "Hello."
"Hello, I couldn't help but notice you with young Lillian there, friend of hers?" the mare asked.
Reginald wondered what was going on. A case of mistaken identity or something more worrying? "I believe you are mistaken, my friend's name is Bluebell."
"Is that what she's calling herself?" the mare looked sympathetic. "I know this will be a bit of a shock, but your friend isn't who she says she is," the old mare shook her head. "I moved here from Canterlot a few months back and I couldn't believe my eyes, that my friend's granddaughter was all the way out here, nopony has seen her in years."
This was certainly an interesting piece of information. A runaway, it made sense with her clear disdain during her brief mention of her family. "Really? She never told me much about her family."
"A shame, she ran away from Canterlot after her grandparents took her in, out of goodwill after her mother passed. Heir to the House of Winters and one day she just up and leaves, taking some of her grandmother's jewelry with her," the mare was displeased. "A good-for-nothing layabout and thief that doesn't even take part in the community."
Reginald was puzzled. "Well she is rather ill-"
"Well she can't be that sick if she flew you here, we have so few weather ponies out here she shouldn't be making up excuses to avoid work. That mare is just like her mother, abandoning her family to live her own life," the mare ranted and sighed. "If you are her friend then maybe you can talk some sense into her. Convince Lillian Meadows to go pay her family a visit. She won't listen to me."
It was then that Mist walked out the apothecary, the slightest look of annoyance upon seeing the elderly mare quickly hidden by a mask of indifference.
Reginald walked up to the pegasus, all smiles. "Bluebell! I was just having a rather interesting conversation, care to join me?"
The old mare waved him off, almost in a hurry to leave. "Don't let me keep you, have a nice day."
Mist sighed as they walked. He looked over at her, itching to confirm the truth of what he'd been told, and shot her a sly grin. "Lillian Meadows, eh?"
The pegasus looked irritated, but remained silent. Reginald raised a brow, this wasn't something he could just ignore if the information was valid. He spoke to her more sternly. "Something you're not telling me, Mist?"
Mist, instead of flinching like he expected, frowned as her voice oozed sass. "Let me guess, Lillian's a lying, ungrateful pony just like her mother. Oh I'm sorry, I don't want to live as an extension of my family's assets, or act like someone I'm not because my self-centered, two-faced, hypocrite of a grandmother didn't give a flying feather about me until my special talent could be used to further her standing in society. I left because I'm not a rutting trophy to be gawked at, ordered around or married off!"
Reginald was impressed by the self-righteous fury that rolled off her in waves, she was normally so calm the outburst took him by surprise. It also eased his own doubts about her for the time being, it was clear she'd sooner isolate herself again than try to return to polite society.
Mist stared at nothing, letting her mind wander while Reginald stopped to chat to another pony. They'd been walking around for the better part of an hour, her boss spinning a yarn about being a part of an airship enthusiast club that hired her for weather management and navigation. She glanced over to see, not for the first time, her boss being pulled aside by a concerned villager wanting to warn him about her behavior and troubled past, and Mist stared at the ground as she tried to ignore the worry worming its way into her thoughts.
Would she be kicked out before even getting her hat? Or would she be tossed in the brig, kept as resource of information and money until they no longer had a use for her? She tried to put it out of mind, tried to think about something, anything else. It wasn't working, she was working herself up, and her internal struggle to not let the stress get the best of her only added on to the whirlpool of emotions she was caught in. Her throat felt tight.
She couldn't break now.
"Are you alright?" Reginald asked, walking over and studying her. "Do you need to sit down?"
"I'm fine," she lied, her voice far more calm and steady than she felt. "Can't really stand around for too long anyway, wanna take a break for lunch?"
"Do you recommend anywhere in particular?"
Mist led him to her usual bakery, they weren't far from it anyway. "I'd suggest a sandwich or the ELT, egg, lettuce, and tomato sandwich. Doesn't have hay or flowers in it, and I don't know if the amount of sugar used in the baked goods here is safe for you or not," she explained as they walked inside the homey building. "Ponies need sugar as a regular part of their diet, so baked treats, confectioneries, and desserts are staple foods."
"And what are you having?" Reginald asked as he browsed the modest selection of sandwiches on offer inside a glass display.
"Probably just a slice of carrot cake," she shrugged. "It's one of the few things I can eat here that doesn't trigger my wheat intolerance."
She watched her boss look around the store, as if he was realizing just how limited her options were compared to everyone else. The conversation paused as they bought their food and took a seat at one of the outdoor tables.
"What can you eat?" Reginald asked her.
Mist looked up, stabbing her fork into her cake. "This, fruit, vegetables, rice, rye bread, and eggs. Still have to avoid fatty, greasy or spicy foods because otherwise I'll have a crook gut and stomach acid up my oesophagus. I stuck to sandwiches, carrot cake and rice crackers because I just don't have the energy to make anything. A shame, I miss being able to cook."
"I'll be sure to keep that in mind, you don't have to keep buying your own food you know. We have a cafeteria on the ship for a reason." Reginald stated.
Mist focused on her food, holding her fork in her left wing. "I just don't want to be a bother, I have to follow a meal plan to manage my condition, and I don't want to inconvenience anyone by going to the kitchen outside of mealtimes anymore than I already do."
They ate quietly, Mist zoning out as she ate, and Reginald content to let her do so. Having something to do, to focus on, helped ease her state of mind back into something approaching normalcy. Mist was still stressed, but emotionally drained as she now was the mare wanted nothing more than to get her errands done and spend the rest of the day lying on her bed and...
Mist remembered she needed to buy herself a new radio, her old one destroyed along with the rest of her house. She'd been so busy learning how to write in English, teach her boss Ponish, and try her hardest to not get lost navigating the airship (Right had started following her around after he found her the first few times she got lost trying to get to the cafeteria) that she'd forgotten she had very few possessions and ever fewer ways to pass the time.
She had money after all, she may as well use it, and it wasn't like she was well enough for casual flights over the countryside anymore.
Mist was lying on her back on her bed, orchestral music quietly playing from the radio that now sat on top of the chest of drawers at the foot of her bed. Her quiet afternoon ended when someone knocked on her door. She hefted herself up and walked to answer the door, it opened with a mechanical hiss.
The Right Hand Man looked down at her. "You 'ad tea yet?"
"No."
"I was gonna grab a bite to eat before the rest of the crew rush in, want to join me?" Right asked. "Need to talk to you 'bout something anyway."
Well, Mist was hungry enough to actually eat something, and four O'clock in the afternoon wasn't that early for her. "Yeah, Thanks for the invitation Sir."
Right led her down the hall with an eye roll. "You don't 'ave to be so formal with me girl, jus' don't give me any sass an' don't be an idiot."
"You're my superior, Sir. That would be disrespectful." Mist said.
"True, but I don't work with folks looking to kiss my arse to get in the boss' good graces," Right stated. "Bein' respectful is treating your fellow Toppats like they're people an' not actin' like the smallest mistake will send you packing, you 'aven't messed up yet an' I can tell you don't plan to."
"I wouldn't want to bother-"
"S'no bother, we'll be working together in the future, the Chief's idea," Right said as they reached the cafeteria and headed into the attached kitchen. "You'll be our eyes an' ears when we start gettin' into the swing of things. You an' me will be the one's getting whatever information we need for Reg to start planning heists an' other missions."
Mist dug out her tin of rice crackers from within a cabinet, turning around to see Right pulling out a sandwich from the fridge. She followed him out to one of the many empty tables in the cafeteria and voiced her thoughts. "An undercover reconnaissance team? Be nice to work with someone again."
"You 'ad a teammate then?"
Mist nodded as she sat down next to him. "My partner in crime, had to cut ties with her when I quit, too dangerous."
"Too dangerous to keep associating with her?" Right guessed and she nodded, offering him a cracker.
"Red Dawn is her codename, she's one of the most powerful unicorns I've ever met, we became a well-known duo over time and knew it'd be too risky to stay in contact once my health started deteriorating," Mist said. "If we ever swing by Manehatten, I wouldn't mind paying her a visit. Bet she wouldn't turn down a chance to work with me again."
Right nodded. "It's never easy finding people that work well with you," he looked thoughtful. "I 'eard you were asking 'bout the prisoner in the brig the other day..."
"I was curious, the boss said no, so I didn't ask again after that." Mist stated and munched on a cracker.
The man wasn't angry, nor disappointed, merely passively observing. He shrugged. "Gotta admit, it's a good idea, convincing 'im to join but with everything goin' on with fixing the ship, we don't need the risk of 'im escaping. 'Specially not after the way he was brought 'ere to begin with."
Right Hand Man was disgusted as he recounted the tale. "It was a few days before we got 'ere. He was a mall cop, a few of the crew 'ad one too many drinks and thought it'd funny to bring 'im to the ship an' rough 'im up a bit. I was the one who found 'em. Toppats don't target innocents, stealin' is one thing, fightin' police tryin' to take you down is one thing, but we don' go around beatin' up innocent bystanders who haven't done anythin' to us."
Right sighed. "Threw the poor bloke into the brig, and scared the living daylights out of the idiots who attacked 'im. Was gonna tell the Chief but then all of this happened."
"Are you alright?" Mist asked, concerned.
"Don't worry 'bout it, once we're in the air, I'll tell Reg the full story an' see what happens. He's not goin' to be happy, hates it when someone ignores what it means to be a Toppat, we're not thugs, we're better than that," Right shrugged. "You jus' keep your 'ead down an' rest up. You'll get a chance to earn your hat soon enough."