//------------------------------// // Chapter 9: (Special) Talent For Trouble // Story: Faithful and Strong // by Golden Scribe //------------------------------// “Children.” Hornblower said flatly. “Yes, sir. I think they’re siblings of some of the ponies Princess Celestia sent over. Applejack assured me that she’d make sure they didn’t get into any trouble while they were on board.” Hornblower pinched the bridge of his nose. Just when he thought he might get a little peace around here… And yet, the ship was technically out of service, which eliminated his primary excuse to keep them from coming aboard. Not to mention the nagging doubt in his head that told him that Twilight was sending reports to the Princess, keeping her informed of the Lydia’s actions. Even if there was a good reason for it, turning away children might be enough to provoke the monarch. It seemed that his hands were tied. Lowering his hand, he looked back at Bush, hoping he made his disapproval quite clear. “They may come aboard, Mr. Bush. But I expect Applejack to keep her word that they’ll be supervised at all times.” “She strikes me as someone who keeps her promises,” Bush said, “I’ll send one of the powder monkeys over to the inn to let them know. Applejack will probably pay you a visit to determine the best time to give them a tour.” Hornblower made a vague noise and dismissed him, waiting until the door was closed before standing up and pacing the room. What on earth had he done to deserve this? He followed orders to the best of his ability, he treated his friends and family with respect, and he did his utmost to be moral. Perhaps it was never enough, but to be stranded in this situation seemed like an egregious punishment for a relatively minor crime. The one consolation was that it would all be over soon. In two weeks, they would be out on the open sea again, able to leave all this behind them. Even though the crew seemed to be enjoying themselves here, Hornblower had no doubt they would keep their silence when they got back to England. After a few months, he was sure he’d never hear any mention of Equestria or its inhabitants again. He’d just have to cling to that thought to get him through these last few days. Sighing, Hornblower retreated to his seachest, where he rooted around for his copy of The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. As long as his ship was on leave, he had the right to spend that time however he liked. *** Most of the day passed without incident. He heard giggling through his door that suggested that the young ponies were having their tour, and the occasional snatch of song or click of hooves on wood, but mostly, the decks were silent. It was comforting, in a way, and allowed Hornblower to relax, at least a little. It was only in the evening when things were shot to hell. Hornblower was back at his desk, filling out the daily report, when he heard a rap at his door. “Come in.” Bush entered his cabin once again, and Hornblower’s back stiffened at once when he caught sight of the expression on his first lieutenant’s face. It was a combination of puzzled and concerned, and it suggested that something out of the ordinary had occurred. “What is it, Mr. Bush?” “Well, sir, a group of the men decided that they needed a bath after all the repairs they’ve done, so they waited until the ponies had dispersed for the night before going into the ocean for a swim. As they were splashing around, they noticed something…odd.” “Yes?” Hornblower’s tone was sharp enough to cut glass. Bush’s cheeks reddened slightly. “They…they seem to have sprouted cutie marks.” “What?” Hornblower was torn between disbelief and horror. “On their hips, one on each side, just like the ponies,” Bush confirmed, “And as far as we can tell, they serve the same purpose; to reveal each man’s unique talent. Simmonds has a bayonet, Owen has a knife carving a block of wood, Hall has a set of ratlines, and Dawson’s looks oddly like a paintbrush. Since Hall’s one of the best climbers we have, it seems to line up with what we know about cutie marks.” “And you’re positive this isn’t the men playing some sort of prank?” Bush nodded. “Dawson looked astounded when he reported it to me, and it seemed genuine. Plus, they wouldn’t have had the time to draw on marks that detailed, and the seawater would have washed it away besides. Not to mention…” Bush turned redder, “That after they told me, I went into my cabin and had a look in the mirror. I’ve got them too.” Hornblower gaped at him. Bush rubbed nervously at his hip. “It’s a sealed envelope, unquestionably made to look like a set of orders. I wouldn’t be surprised if you have a set yourself.” “Has any of the crew felt anything unusual? A pain in their hips, a desire to eat hay, a feeling of shrinking?” “Not to my knowledge. And Hankey hasn’t reported any visits to the surgery. Do you think we’re…” “There’s only one way to find out. Send a man to the inn and fetch Twilight Sparkle. Tell her she needs to come here immediately. Send her to my cabin as soon as she arrives.” “Aye, sir!” Bush saluted and disappeared out the door. Hornblower took a deep breath, hoping to calm his heartrate. Logically, it seemed ridiculous that exposure to the ponies would cause humans to turn into ponies themselves. Even the worst diseases never caused symptoms that dramatic. And he’d been told that other ships had spent time here, and apparently had suffered no ill effects. But then, they had only spent a few days there, whereas the Lydia had been here for over a week. Most likely, the men hadn’t eaten or drank most of the food here, which might be part of the transformation process. It’s what allowed Circe to turn Odysseus’ men into pigs, after all. Hornblower shook his head. Now he really was being ridiculous. What he was predicting came straight out of myths and fairy tales, and even if he was surrounded by talking horses that could fly and do magic, he refused to believe that the world had gone completely mad. If there was something at work here, it probably had some basis in the location of the island, not on the inhabitants. While there was a slim possibility that Princess Celestia had been lying to him, he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe it. Everyone in Equestria seemed too open and friendly to be practicing deceit on such a massive scale. Still, he needed to weigh every option, and that’s why he needed to speak to Twilight. He didn’t have long to wait. Someone pounded on the lower half of the door, and he opened it to reveal Twilight and a dazed looking crewman Benskin. “I teleported over as soon as I got your message!” she said, looking up at Hornblower in concern, “What’s happened?” Hornblower ushered her inside and closed the door firmly. “I’ve just heard from Lieutenant Bush that my men are developing marks that seem to be similar to your cutie marks. Do you have any idea what could be causing this?” Twilight’s eyes widened. “No. I’ve never heard of this before. It’s really sort of fascinating, actually. There are so many variables that could lead to this happening…” “Miss Sparkle!” Hornblower interrupted firmly, “This is causing a certain amount of consternation among my crew. If there is any possibility that this is just the start of other unpleasant changes, I need to know about it, and possibly leave here before any more damage can be done. If you don’t know anything about this, perhaps Princess Celestia does. I would be very much obliged if you could send her a letter tonight, asking her if she’s ever heard of something like this.” Twilight nodded. “Of course! I’ll have Spike draft the letter as soon as I get back to the inn. I’ll have him write ‘Urgent’ on the outside of the scroll. That way, we should get an answer by tomorrow afternoon at the latest.” “Thank you, Miss Sparkle. Please, come round to tell me her response as soon as you receive it. It would be a weight off my crew’s shoulders.” “Absolutely. I mean, aye-aye, sir!” Twilight said, before disappearing from the room in a puff of pink sparkles. Hornblower blinked for a moment, then sighed again. Well, at least it meant she was taking this seriously. With Twilight looking into this, there was nothing more Hornblower could do except wait. Quickly finishing up his reports, he elected to prepare for bed. It would allow his thoughts to settle, and then perhaps he would be able to approach Celestia’s response with a clear head. As his hands moved to remove his trousers, he glanced over at the mirror, then down at his still-covered hip. “No,” he said firmly, “What does it matter what my talent is? The needs of my crew come first.” Hastily changing into his nightshirt, he blew out the candle and climbed into his cot, resisting the urge to give the mirror a second glance. *** “Captain!” Hornblower turned around at once the second he heard Twilight’s voice. She was running up the gangplank, levitating a sheet of paper above her head. “The Princess wrote back?” Hornblower said, hoping to keep his voice even. “She did,” Twilight said, depositing the letter into his hand, “Here, look for yourself.” Hornblower scanned the letter quickly, saw the relevant information, and had to touch the railing to steady himself as the tension uncoiled from his shoulders. Returning to the top of the letter, he gave it a proper read; Dear Twilight (and Captain Hornblower), I certainly understand your concerns regarding the unexpected appearance of cutie marks amongst the crew of the Lydia. Rest assured that while the fear was groundless, the concern certainly was not. While most humans do not stay in Equestria long enough to develop cutie marks, there are records of a few humans who stayed long enough for them to appear. Other than the cutie marks, though, they showed no other change. While there is no definitive explanation for their appearance, the assumption seems to be that prolonged exposure to the magic that suffuses Equestria causes the cutie marks to appear, assuming one has lived long enough to find their special talent. I would assume that, once the Lydia has left Equestrian waters, the marks will fade and eventually disappear. I wish you the best of luck in installing the new cannons. Sincerely, Princess Celestia. “Mr. Bush!” Hornblower called over his shoulder. When Bush appeared, Hornblower handed him the letter. “Pass the word amongst the men. There doesn’t seem to be anything to fear about the…latest development.” “Aye, sir.” Bush said, the relief evident in his voice as he moved off. Hornblower turned his attention back to Twilight. “Thank you for your prompt action, Miss Sparkle. My crew will be able to pass the rest of their leave in peace now.” Twilight smiled. “I’m glad to hear it. I know exactly how it feels to be too worried to focus.” She made her way back down the gangplank. “My friends and I will be back to help you install the new cannons! Until then, see you around town!” “Unlikely.” Hornblower said quietly, but nodded and waved her off. Now that his fears had been put to rest, he felt embarrassed at having caused such a fuss. For all he knew, he’d been the only one worried about turning into a pony, and had caused undue stress among his crew. At least no harm had been done. Pushing the embarrassment to the back of his mind, Hornblower moved down the deck, wanting to take a tour of the ship to make sure everything was still in order. The rest of the day passed pleasantly enough. Hornblower took dinner with his lieutenants and managed to talk three of them into a game of whist. As much as he hated to admit it, having a short respite from the various battles was very much appreciated. It was good for morale, if nothing else. As night fell, Hornblower dismissed the lieutenants and nodded his thanks to Polwheal as he lay out Hornblower’s nightclothes. Once he was alone in the cabin, he glanced at the mirror again. He knew he should just ignore it—no one would see it, after all, and with luck, it would cease to matter in a few weeks—but the vague curiosity was nagging at him, and he knew that there was only one way it could be satisfied. Cursing his weak resolve, he went up to the mirror and pulled down his trousers inch by inch until his entire hip had been exposed. It wasn’t anywhere near as bad as he’d been expecting. He’d had the vague concern that Pinkie had been right that his cutie mark was a horn of some sort, suiting his name but not his character. Instead, it was a pair of silver dividers, spread wide enough for the points to touch either side of his hip, and a mix of numbers and symbols placed between them, representing a mathematical formula of some sort. It made sense; he’d always had a head for numbers. It was a fairly subtle mark, all things considered, and in other circumstances, he might even have been proud of it. As it was, at least he was unlikely to turn red if, for some reason, his men caught a glimpse of it. Curiosity satisfied, Hornblower turned away from the mirror and finished dressing for bed. The knowledge that all was well and that he wouldn’t need to speak to any of the ponies for a few days was enough to ensure a sound sleep tonight.