A lavender glow cascaded over the metal door towards the bow as Zaid opened it to the engine room. Waving steam from his face, he trotted in, squinting.
"Blondie?" he called out. "Yoohoo! Hey blondie, you there?"
There was no reply.
With a curious shuffle, the stallion trotted over a mess of spilled wrenches and tools and shuffled past the cage with the glowing tome inside. "Yeesh, it's like a demonic dance hall in here. Even a pony snorting parasprite blood wouldn't get a buzz from this place." He chuckled to himself as he at last stood behind a mare's figure hunched before a workbench. "Heheh... yeah, okay. You got me there. You can't snort parasprite blood. That kind of crud is best injected."
Props didn't look at him. Her ears flicked from either side of her drooping mane.
"Uhm... Blondie? That was a joke." Zaid nudged her. "You know... the stuff you giggle explosively at?"
"Mmmmmph..." Props stirred, turning her shoulder to him. "Go away, Zaidy..."
Zaid's eyebrow raised. "Kind of hard to 'go away' on a ship that's small enough for a dragon to barf up." He shrugged. "What's the dealio, sexio? Ebon says that salad's being served. Don't you wanna feed that buxom, curvaceous brain of yours?"
"Nnngh... I've got engine work to do."
"Uh, yeah..." Zaid fidgeted, glancing at all of the neglected tools lying around. "I can see that."
"It's okay if you wanna bite my head off."
"Pffft. Why would I wanna do that?" Zaid yanked a stool over and plopped down. "I just wanted to talk!"
"I thought you just wanted to tell me that salad's up..."
"Yeah, well, now I want to talk." Zaid smirked. "Hey. Come on. Look at me."
At last, the mare tilted her head towards him. Her goggles were fogged up, so the stallion reached over and lifted them up, revealing a pair of tearing eyes.
"Yeah..." Zaid sighed. "There's a lot of that going around." He nevertheless gave a weary smile. "I've always been of the belief that hugs are a lot more contagious. Wanna give it a test?"
"Why w-would you want to?" Props sniffled. "Aren't you mad at me?"
"Mad at you?!"
"Because..." The mare bit her lip. "Because it's all my fault..."
Zaid could only raise an eyebrow at that.
"I... I could have worked harder..." Props wiped her cheek. "I could h-have gotten the skystone working sooner! If... if I d-did... then we could have flown faster than Rainbow Dash. We c-could have gotten there. Could... could have stopped him..."
"Eughhhhh..." Zaid clenched his eyes shut and groaned. "For the love of monkey bait, not you too." He reopened his eyes and caressed her cheek. "Listen to me. You'd better jump off that train before it leaves the station, girl, because it ain't gonna take you nowhere good."
"But... but all those ponies... and... and th-the poor foals..."
"Shhhh... c'mere, you..." Zaid wrapped his forelimbs around her. The mare sobbed quietly into his chest as he stroked her blonde mane. "Y'know, I've been through a lot of tough places, and I've seen ugly things. A lot more than I'd like to talk about, because if there's anything I hate more in life, it's being a downer pony."
"But... b-but how's th-that possible...?" She shook and shivered, the ends of her hooves curling against his coat. "You're s-such a happy stallion! And y-you're so p-positive all the time..."
"And you're not?" Zaid smirked. He parted the hug so that they could stare eye-to-eye. "I've been homeless on over a dozen occasions. The only reason I've managed to keep going from one place to another is because long ago I realized that the home isn't what makes me, but the hope that I hang onto, the ponies I like to share it with."
"I've... I've never s-seen anything as horrible as I h-have just now..." Props bit her lip. "We did everything we could for Kera and her family. How can we help them now? How can we h-help them in the future when bad things can happen without any warning?"
"Look, I've butted heads with death a bunch of times," Zaid said. "Death has a lot going for it. It's cold, it's powerful, and it's merciless. But life always trumps it. Cuz even when the warm things of this world get snuffed out, nothing can change the fact that—for even a brief fart in cosmic time—they had will." He smirked. "What happened back in Lerris sucked terribly, and most ponies on board this ship are probably gonna be playing the crying game, blaming themselves or each other or what crap. But you and I?" He shook his head. "We're not those kinds of ponies. We gotta show these dudes that we play by another rulebook, because—believe it or not—all is not shot to crap. We will find hope again, and when that time comes, our friends are gonna need the likes of us to lean on."
Props stared blankly at her.
"So, you think you can stop blaming yourself? Because guilt's a really ugly color on you, girl," he said with a wink.
Props squinted. She rubbed her cheek again and giggled slightly. "'Monkey bait.' Heh... heehee... that's a good one."
Zaid shrugged. "I come up with the best stuff when I don't plan ahead." He blinked. "Er... well... m-most of the time."
She smiled at him, sniffling.
He stood up, patted her shoulder, and leaned in. "Salaaaaaaaaaaad," he whispered in her ear, then trotted away under the lavender glow.
Once he was gone, Props gazed over at the workbench on the other side of the room. A communication array sat within the tender glow of the ship's engine core. On quiet hooves, Props trotted over until she sat before the machine. She twirled a lever on one side and brought a mic to her muzzle. As the apparatus sparked to life, she swallowed hard and spoke into it.
"Hello... can anypony hear me? It's Props... Props of the Noble Jury..."
Silence—nothing but static and whining noises.
"Uncle Prowse...?" Props sniffled, a tear running down her cheek. "If you're out there... if y-you're still in one piece, please hear me out..." She clenched her jaw tight and sat up with a resolute glare. "It's your niece, Props, and I haven't given up on you." She dried her cheek again and forced a devilish smirk. "I haven't given up on anything."
Alone in the infirmary, Pilate's bandaged body sat up straight. He leaned upon the edge of his mattress, staring off into nothingness.
Occasionally, the swaying of the Noble Jury jostled his mane.
He breathed evenly, his gray eyes wet but not tearing. He brought a hoof up, feeling the cluster of bandages around the nape of his neck, where the O.A.S.I.S. tech used to reside.
With a deep breath, he retreated for the umpteenth time to the bed, curling up in darkness and listening for nothing, his thoughts spinning circles in his lonesome head.
Inside her quarters, Belle finished brushing Kera's mane. She put the instrument away and gently pushed Kera towards the bed.
The filly did not resist. Like a limp doll, she plopped on her side, staring steadily into the shadows beyond the mattress.
Belle spent a few minutes just gazing at her. At last, she dimmed the lantern and crawled into bed. Once under the covers, she wrapped her motherly arms around the little foal.
Kera said nothing, her body silently molding with the motions of the adult mare embracing her from behind.
Belle felt Kera's heartbeat. She reached up to caress the girl's bangs one last time. Then quietly, she leaned in and kissed the filly on her neck. Her muzzle stayed there, scrunching up as gentle weeping sounds came from Belle's lips. She fought the trembles, hugging Kera tighter in the darkness as the ship swayed delicately around them.
On board the top deck of the Jury, Eagle Eye stood at one of the masts, sharpening his sword with a rough stone. He paused, glancing silently towards the stern.
Josho and Ebon Mane stood in separate places, staring out over the thickening sheets of ice that filled the waters beyond the shore below.
Biting his lip, Eagle glanced the other way.
Floydien sat alone in the cockpit, staring ever eastward.
Nopony said a word to anypony. The air was nothing but frost and flakes of quietly falling snow.
Eagle's face twisted in confusion, disbelief, and then a sheet of dull ennui. He sighed, returning to his blade, murmuring something to himself that somehow kept his eyes dry.
A hundred meters ahead of the Noble Jury, Rainbow Dash flew east. She stretched her wings wide, twirling every now and then to break up errant patches of cloud that stood in the vessel's wake. Bit by bit, she cleared the path before the airship, allowing sunlight to shine through to the glittery patches of iced water below.
Her body shivered, pelted with frost from every cloud she selflessly plowed through.
At one point, she stared back, squinting at the Noble Jury with chattering teeth. For a brief moment, her eyes wandered northwest, as if hoping to see the mountain pass where a lonesome pair of tracks led through.
She could see nothing through the hazy horizon of snow.
Rainbow's muscles shook harder. At any moment, she could easily have rubbed her pendant and warmed herself with the element's glow. She instead kept her forelimbs stretched forward as she glided towards the white horizon. She sniffled once, and her eyes afforded a single tear, but the sunlight dried all the rest as she flew faster, leading the Noble Jury over the cold sea, leaving a bitter continent behind.
One week later...
Inside a decrepit two-story shack warmed by three iron stoves, several burly ponies in thick wintry gear gathered around a splintery wooden bar, dipping their grimy muzzles deep into mugs of whiskey and ale.
One sat in a corner, sharpening a dagger while he gave the rest dirty glances. Two huddled beside one of the stoves, muttering and bartering over a crate full of multicolored herbs in glass jars. Halfway up a teetering staircase, a stallion with gray whiskers drunkenly flirted with a mare in a raggedy, brightly-colored dress. Both laughed and reeled in a wicked stupor.
The bartender of the place grumbled, crouching down on his knees as he employed a thick rag and a third bucket of sudsy material in his futile attempt to wash bloodstains from a patch of floorboard.
The mixed reverie and muddled conversations continued until the rickety door to the shack flew open, causing a flurry of cold air to rush in. Everypony instantly shivered, rubbing their forelimbs and grumbling.
This persisted for half a minute until the bartender stood up with a frown. "Hey! Close the damn door!" He gritted his teeth. "You know the rules around here! Keep out the elements or you get nothing from the fountain!"
Before he could finish his breath, the bruised and battered body of a stallion flew inside and smashed through a table, causing two inebriated ponies to fall back, gasping. Everypony's heads turned towards the center of the shack.
The stallion who was thrown inside groaned, turning over as his body shivered. He coughed, sputtered, and spat up blood. "Help... me... sh-she's a... a Nagun-damned lunatic..."
Just then, a series of heavy hoofsteps thudded one after another. Everypony looked to see a stocky, cloaked figure enter the room, dragging in powdery bits of snow. The figure pivoted about, glaring at everypony. At last, a hoof pointed at the stallion on the ground.
"This stallion is part of a group known as the Frostbite Five... which, after I found out just yesterday what its two cowardly members like to do to the enslaved foals they smuggle through this land... could just as well now be called the Thick-Headed Three."
The ponies flinched, gasping as the figure turned about with a flurry of snowflakes.
"I know that the group's leader works here. And I'm sure he would like to find out how many of his buddies' organs I fed to them until they had the nerve to point me here."
"Why you..." The stallion in the corner twirled his dagger and stood up, scowling. "Damn you to the frozen wastes!" He gripped the blade in his teeth, spun around, and launched it murderously at the stranger's neck.
Clank! The blade embedded into the side of the figure's cloak. The pony stared aside, a pair of copper lenses glistening from under the hood.
The leader of the Frostbite Five stumbled back, gasping.
With a grunt, Roarke shredded the cloak, yanking the fabric off her in one toss. Her body was exposed to the stovelight, along with the tight metal bars framing her every limb. Without wasting another second, she spun and bucked a table with both hooves. The pneumatic joints activated with gusts of steam, propelling the wooden furniture across the shack with the force of an anvil.
Crack! The stallion found himself plowed violently into the wall, causing the whole wobbly building to shift on its foundation.
Some ponies shriek. Two stallions—fueled by whiskey and anger—dove at Roarke's side.
She brought one hoof up without looking, knocked three teeth out of one stallion, then flicked the fetlock of the other limb, producing a metal grappling arm that grabbed the second attacker by his neck. Barely breaking a sweat, she spun her body and dragged the choking pony through two chairs before flinging him over the bar counter and into a wall of shattering bottles.
Every other pony in the place instantly backed away—all save for the Frostbite Five leader. Bruised and bleeding, he scampered in a vain attempt to exit out the snow-pelted entrance.
Roarke fired a pair of steam thrusters in the metal frame at her flank. In a single second, she had crossed the distance of the room, slamming the stallion into the wall. She flicked her right forelimb, produced a thin blade, and skewered the stallion's shoulder, pinning him in place.
"Aaaaaaaughhh-grkkkkt!" The grimy pony teared up, sneering in pain. His wincing eyes gazed at her. "You... you freak! H-how much do you want?! The g-gang's got a stockpile! Tons of gold and silver! Grkkkt... it can all be yours!"
"Didn't you hear me, breeder?!" Roarke hissed into his face. "I came here for one thing. Information. Now..." She twisted the blade slightly, causing him to yelp in pain. "Before I get angry, tell me everything you know about your friends, the Lounge."
"Nnngh... wh-why...?" He stammered, staring crookedly at her. "What's it to you?"
"Because my friends are passing through their territory as we speak," Roarke said. Her lenses pistoned out. "And I aim to protect them, no matter the cost."