• Published 13th Oct 2015
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Utaan - Imploding Colon



Rainbow Dash endures many trials to reach the edge of the world.

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When It's Finally Feeding Time

“And just like that? He went off to Mudtop?”

“He came. Dropped off the monster. Then left us.”

“Verlaxion's Sleet! What is Skagra even thinking?”

“I don't know. But so long as that Rainbow Rogue is on board, I'm locking my doors. I don't care what hour nibbles are being served. I don't want to risk dying and my foals becoming seafoam filth.”

“You and me both, sister.”


“Did you even see the beast?”

“Pffft. Barely. Saxon and the rest were all over it. I couldn't even catch a glimpse during the whole march to the brig.”

“They're keeping that thing in the Southern Struts?”

“Yeah! And it took at least two dozen dredgers with shark prods to hold it at bay!”

“Hah! They were lucky! I heard the monster took out a third of Monket's crew! Left them bleeding and lame all across his deck!”

“Your point?”

“Point is... if that thing wanted to attack Skagra's dudes, it would have torn them to bits within seconds!”

“Oh, terrific. And now Skagra's got it locked up in our hold.”

“I know, right?”

“The second I hear the hulls cracking, I'm jumping overboard! Muck be damned!”

“Hahaha!”


“What are they even feeding that thing?”

“Fish. Rice. The usual.”

“To a monster like that?”

“That's what I overhead Dredger Nixkit say.”

“Pffft. If they were smart, they'd chop up some of the slaves from Monket's ship and toss it down into the Southern Strut's hold!”

“Heh... that would put them to good use.”

“Seriously, though. What's the creature even doing here? Don't we have enough problems as it is with the harvest?”

“Hrmmff... the way I figure, Skagra thinks he can make some bits off of this. Give Red Barge a long-lasting edge over White and South.”

“Yeesh. Things have definitely changed ever since the Syndicate fell under. You think he's aiming to become the new Northern Hoof?”

“Hah! More like Muck Hoof!”

“Boy, that'll catch on.”


Swab could not stop sweating.

He huddled, scrunched up in a claustrophobic crawlspace lined with rusted metal. A lantern lingered at his side, illuminating rising curtains of steam from the webbed grates below.

With gnashing teeth, he fought and struggled to twist a series of stubborn valves directly in front of his dripping muzzle.

“Grnnngkkkt... mrfrnnnghht!”

His tiny hooves gripped a rusted wrench. It took much effort and strain, but he was finally... finally able to twist a dial. A fine trickle of sediment fell loose, and now the thing turned with an audible squeak.

He exhaled, wiping his brow. Then, placing his wrench down, he fumbled around until he grabbed a canister of oil. With help from a rag, he squirted the oil into the joints of the valve and rubbed it smoothly around the circumference. He tried turning it again, and it spun smoothly.

His work was done.

The little colt dumped his items into a work bag, flung it around his neck, then gripped the lantern with his teeth. He wormed down the length of the narrow, metal crawlspace, wincing from the scalding heat of the metal along the way. It was a torturous, ten minute shimmy, but at last he reached the very end of the steam-filled corridor. Standing up, he twirled a valve, then opened a trap door into blisteringly bright sunlight.


The humid air of the seven seas was like an ice-cold kiss to the colt's muzzle. He crawled out of the hole, then rolled sideways across the western strut's upper deck. Lying there in limp silence, he breathed in and out, reveling in the coolness that the surface world brought. All around him, an array of brass pipework lingered, hissing steam at the various joints.

At last, after five limp minutes of listening to seagulls cry and engine rudders churn, Swab sat up. He reached over, slapped the steamy trap door shut, then locked it in place with a twist of the valve. He extinguished the lantern, slung it over his scarred flank along with the work bag, and stood up on wobbly limbs.


Several minutes and two struts later, Swab's trot came to a nervous crawl.

He blinked, squinting ahead.

Just in front of him in the setting sunlight, several orphan fillies and colts were spreading apart, trotting away from where the guard Saxon stood, hoofing out bags of plain white rice. Swab watched as he gave away the last bag, then started packing up his cart of supplies.

Swab's muzzle hung open. He shivered. Hard.

Swallowing a lump down his throat, Swab trotted forward... then galloped. “Hey... h-hey! Wait!” He scuffled to a stop in front of Saxon. “I'm here! I'm here for my nibbles!”

“No you're not,” Saxon slurred. He hummed to himself as he packed his things up. “Now, if you were here ten minutes ago when I called everypony—”

“But it's not even sundown!” Swab stammered. His eyes feverishly crawled all over Saxon's cart of empty containers. “Digiff doesn't hoof out nibbles for another two hours—”

“Yeah, well, Digiff is busy guarding the Rainbow Rogue!” Saxon spat. “Which should be my job, but nooooooooo. Skagra had to give it to a dredger! What... am I not snazzy enough?” His nostrils fumed as he piled more empty things into his cart, muttering to himself. “I mean, I know I crawled out of the seafoam hold only two years ago, but come on!”

“But... b-but...” Swab gulped, shifting from side to side. “I-I grabbed trinkets last night! I-I was promised nibbles!”

“And just where were you when the call went out, huh?”

“I... I-I...” Swab stifled a whimper, his head hanging down. “... … …I was fixing a rusted valve in the western engine compartments...”

“Hah! What rotten luck, huh?” Saxon chuckled, his yellow'd teeth showing. “Boy am I glad I became a guard, not a dredger! I'll live longer! Haha!”

“But... but...”

“Try again next time, kid.” Saxon shuffled off, shoving the cart along with him. “We've all been there. Heheheh...”

Swab stretched a hoof out... but let it fall. He sighed, his bag slumping behind him as he stood in abject silence.

The quiet didn't last long. A series of chuckles bled into the red air, followed by the stalking bodies of Whony and several other colts. They cradled their bags of rice, making a purposeful show of eating it in close proximity to the one-eared foal.

“Awwwwww... what's the matter, Swab?”

“Gonna cry to your parents, sea foam?”

“Heheh... yeah! Cuz they're way out in the ocean, right? On some neverending scouting trip?”

“Pffft... gimme a break...”

“Better start swimming!” Whony said, trotting up and leering down at Swab. “Assuming... of course... you've got the muscles for it still!”

“Hahaha!”

Swab closed his eyes. He exhaled.

“Hey...” Whony's stupid grin morphed into a brief frown. “Laugh!” He shoved Swab's shoulder. “Come on! Chuckle! I told a joke, ya shitty sack of sorry!

“… … …” Swab's eyes opened. He stared up at Whony... past him. “Some of us have to work for our nibbles, Whony.” He readjusted his bag and shuffled ahead. “Not everypony can enjoy the scraps from Quint's table.”

Whony blinked.

As for the colts behind him: “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh!

“Oooohooohoooo!”

“Seafoam's got froth of his own!” Another colt nudged Whony's shoulder. “You gonna sit there and bloat, ya mucker?”

“Hahaha! Drowning in his own muck! Look at him!”

Whony said nothing. His jaw clenched as he glared at Swab from afar.


Swab stumbled more than once on his way into the orphans' hold.

His vision was strained, fading. A day's worth of labor and steam had taken its toll on him.

His stomach had gone past the point of grumbling. Now it tore his insides into savage knots, and it hurt just to stand upright.

Nevertheless, with persistent steps, the colt made his way for the mattress that waited for him in the far corner of the below-deck compartment.

In the light of burning oil drums, he spotted several foals all huddled around, nibbling ravenously on their meals of rice... gobbling up each kernel before other children could touch them.

Quint's table was abuzz with voices, all murmuring in a frenzied hush:

“But if she takes that glowing jewel off her neck, then what?”

“She turns into a monster. Plain and simple.”

“Who do you think she'll attack first?”

“Pffft. Isn't it obvious? Us!”

“Why us?”

“We're smaller and easier to catch, muck-for-brains.”

“But there's hardly enough meat on us! I'd say she'll trap the dredgers Skagra's hired to watch over her, then take out the guards.”

“Or what if she went down into the harvest chambers? Plenty of muscle down there!”

“Pfft... for as long as it lasts.”

“I dunno. What do you think, Quint?”

Quint took a deep breath, folding his forelimbs where he sat. “... … … I don't think she's gonna be attacking anypony soon.”

“Huh?”

“What makes you say that?”

“Isn't it obvious?” Quint glanced sharply across the flickering barrelight. “She sliced and diced a bunch of ponies on Monket's ship. But none of them died. Why? 'Cuz the slaving bastard was quick to put that glowing ruby thingy back on her neck. So you know what that means...?”

“She hasn't fed.”

“Right. And a monster with no meal in its belly can't attack anypony to begin with. Even if it's to feed some more.”

“You... you think Skagra will be that stupid?”

“Our Top Dredger? Pffft. No way. But... he does seem to be working with stupid ponies as of late.”

“I heard he and Monket are trying to bag us some bits from a jerkbag in the mainland!”

“Yeah! The fat cat! What's his name... Chandler?”

“That's what Swab said.”

“I don't know. But one thing's for sure.” Quint glanced at the others. “All of the seven seas are banking on finding this Rainbow Rogue... and Skagra's got her. Far as we should know, he's ruling the entire ocean just by having her in the southern strut's brig.”

“Yeesh. Should we feel special?”

“I think we should feel like a target.”

“Say... where's Whony?”

“Who knows.”

“Pffft. More like who cares.”

“Snkkkt—hahahaha!”

“Heh heh heh...”

By this time, Swab had limped his way towards the far end of the room. He tripped once, teetering to the left. One of many fillies seated on a bunk shoved him back. “Excuse you,” she grunted while the others rolled their eyes.

Sitting on the far edge of the mattress, Croche squirmed. Her sunken eyes lifted up, drooping. She gazed after Swab and his shuffling hooves.

Fwoomp! With a slight grunt, Swab landed on his target. One trembling hoof after another, he crawled over his mattress until he lay in the middle of the thing. He rolled up, facing the ceiling, then clutched his belly. His eyes closed as he tried to shake up the sweat and trembles of the day.

That's when a small set of hooves shuffled up.

“Here...”

Swab's forehead tensed.

“Look...”

Swab's eyes squinted over. He looked to his side.

Croche stood next to the mattress. She held a tiny half-bag of rice in her outstretched hooves. “I... I only ate half of it.” She gulped. “I wouldn't have earned my nibbles from last night if it weren't for you.”

Swab blinked. His weak eyes fell on the bag. Holding his breath, he shuffled to the side, then reached his hoof out.

Suddenly, though, he lingered. His gaze fell on the bunk full of snickering fillies... murmuring to one another as they gawked at him. In the far distance, several colts laughed, and Swab could feel Quint's hard gaze.

With a sigh, Swab retracted his hoof. He leaned back into the center of his mattress. “Keep it.”

Croche blinked. “Huh?”

“You're the tiniest filly who can still walk. You need food in your belly more than I do,” Swab muttered, gazing back at the ceiling. “Keep it. Eat up every kernel before somepony else does.”

“Look, don't be stupid.” Croche frowned. “At this rate, you're only going to—”

Did you hear me or didn't you?!” Swab suddenly snarled, his teeth showing.

Croche leaned back, her pale pink figure full of trembles.

“Keep it all to yourself and eat it!” Swab growled. “Don't begin to give stuff away or else...” Almost instantly, the hard edge in his voice faded. He sniffled, looking away. “...or else you'll end up like m-me.”

Croche bit her lip. She pensively hugged the remaining rice to herself.

Swab turned away from her, curling up on the mattress. Once he heard her hooves shuffling off, he closed his eyes before they could tear up. Hugging himself, he faced the darkness, waiting for the first of many torturous hours to pass.


“Swift Song...”

He was drowning.

How he could sense his own tears against the salty waves, the colt could never guess. But there was no time for anything but swimming.

Limbs thrashing, he fought and struggled against the brine.

A smog-filled sky lingered overhead. Red Barge was nowhere in sight.

“Swift Song... … ...”

“Mrmmff... Momma!” He sputtered as he wrestled against the tide. The waves rolled up and down. In the distance, he could spot the skiff. Two bodies stood against the starboard railing, searching in the wrong direction. “Pappa! I'm r-right here!” He bobbed up and down as he struggled to swim.

“Where are you, Swift Song? Our labors are over. Where did you go?”

“Don't... snkkkt... d-don't sail off! Please!” He panted and panted. As hard as he swam, he couldn't move from that one single spot in the ocean. “Don't set sail! I'm... I-I'm almost...”

“He's given up on us...” The boat turned about, its rudder flickering like a lamp at the dark end of a rusted corridor. “I should have known.”

“No! No! I'm right here!” Swab sobbed, legs kicking. “I j-just... can't swim fast enough! I didn't earn my nibbles! I didn't... didn't...”

The air turned cold. A gray overcast spread against the smog, showering flakes of snow all over the churning waters.

“... … ...I didn't accept her g-gift,” Swab stammered. “The rice... oh Verlaxion... oh Verlaxion please...”

The boat skimmed off, churning bright white seafoam.

“Please, Verlaxion... forgive me for my sins...” Swab whimpered, shaking his head. “Don't take them away from me because I didn't take the rice. Don't take—”

SWOOOOSH! The ocean exploded. A pair of red eyes burned at the crest of a wide, gaping maw. Leaving a wake of rainbow streams, an enormous beast surged straight for the boat. A burning jewel pulsed at its neck.

“No!” Swab hollered, eyes bulging. “Verlaxion! Don't! Please—!”

At last, his parents turned to look at him. He saw their smiles from miles away. The beady glint in their eyes.

The beast descended upon them, devouring both faces in a deluge of color and madness. A spectral tail lifted, then came crashing straight down. The resulting impact sent a wave of steam straight at Swab, full of pale corpses rolling through rice and oil.

When it reached Swab, it melted the meat right off his bones. He didn't know whether to scream or cry.

“Swift Song...”

“Swift Song...!”

Swab!


“Mmmfnnghhh!” He sat up, sweating bullets, eyes wide. “Gaaaugh!”

A colt jolted back, wincing. “Verlaxion's Sleet, Swab! What the Hell is wrong with you?”

Swab stared at the colt. It was one of Quint's buddies. “Who... what...” He gulped. “The monster...?”

“Look, stop rambling and get your worthless flank out of bed,” the colt said. “You wanna earn some nibbles or don't you?”

“N-nibbles?” Swab's one good ear flicked. Almost instantly, he was reacquainted with the painful knot in his belly. He clutched himself, shuddering. “But... h-how?”

“Digiff's pulling a nightshift. Another engine panel went bad in the west strut's crawlspaces. He's promised extra nibbles to the first ten ponies willing to go down there and give it some grease! That means us!” The colt scampered off, waving. “Come on! Hurry!”

“Wait... Wait!” Swab tried hopping out of bed. He fell on his chin. “Oooof!” Swallowing the pain, he hobbled limply after the colt. “But... b-but I thought Digiff was guarding the Rainbow Rogue—”

“Yeah, well, now he's not! Come! Come quick!”

“R-right! Sure thing!” Swab galloped as quickly as he could.

He rushed past the fillies' bunk. A “slumbering” Croche stirred slightly, then peeped one eye open. She glanced after the galloping pair, shuddered, then turned away from the torchlight.


Starlight peered through a break in the smoggy clouds overhead.

Swab panted and panted as he hopped over and ducked under various pipes and metal lattices. At last, the colt led him two struts deep into the western edge of Red Barge.

“Will you get a move on?!” the colt hissed, shimmying ahead.

“Wait! Not so fast!” Swab winced. The swift gallop only exacerbated his hunger pains, until a brand new numbness draped over him. “I mean it! If I lose you, I won't... I won't...”

“Here we are! Just like I promised!” the colt's voice whispered from ahead.

Swab cleared a final line of pipes. He shuffled to a stop, panting.

An empty deck stood before him in the pale starlight. There was no sign of Digiff.

“Wait...” Swab gulped, glancing left. “Where...?” He glanced right. “Where is—?”

“Rrrrrrgh!” Whony spun around from behind a metal bulkhead and slammed two hooves deep into Swab's empty gut.

“Oooomf!” Swab teared up, clutching his chest as he teetered over. Th-thwump!

Whony stood over him, seething.

The colt that led Swab there inched out of hiding, along with a half-dozen other orphans.

“Just like you always say, Whony.” The one colt grinned. “Head as dense as cotton.”

“Only thing worth naming him after.” Whony spat. He leaned in, then yanked Swab up by his one remaining ear.

“Ow ow ow owwwww...” Swab winced.

“'Scraps from Quint's table,' huh, seafoam?” Whony slammed Swab's face against the deck and snarled: “I'll give you scraps, ya plot nosing little smartass!” He kicked the colt several times in the flank, grunting. “Nopony. Makes. A fool. Of ME!

“Gnnnghhhh...” Swab curled up, grimacing in pain. “Mmmmf... m-mommaaa...”

“Bloated!” Whony's voice rang in the grimy air. “All bloated, ya stupid idiot!” He grabbed the smaller colt by his scrawny little tail. “Just like you're going to be when I'm done with you!”

“Yeah, Whony!”

“You teach that little muckheap!”

“Wooo!”

“Come on, shitstain...” Whony spat, dragging Swab along. He grinned viciously into the filthy night. “...it's feeding time.”

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