Chapter 2
- Chapter 2 -
Red stalked through the tunnels of the den and away from the common area, leaving Ace and Quint to their own devices. His headache was back, but he was certain it wasn’t from the unicorn horn that had been so forcefully stabbed into his skull nearly one thousand two hundred and fifty stormfronts ago. He knew he was on edge, could feel the fur on the back of his neck bristle, and didn’t care. Now wasn’t the time for reason—it was the time for fury.
He arrived at the mines far below the surface. The mines were extensive: a huge underground warren of tunnels that were connected together by the Hub. The Hub was a mass of activity and machinery, filled with a cacophony of voices and the hum of mechanized labor. A refinery for ore ran through the middle and dogs swarmed around it, heating massive crucibles of iron, copper and other metal amalgamations. Blacksmiths worked tirelessly to hammer out tools and devices and pour liquid metal into complex molds. Around the edges of this refinery other dogs worked diligently, sorting through precious gemstones and other minerals. Jewelcrafters polished and cut valuable stones into amazing shapes, creating rubies that shone, diamonds that gleamed, and sapphires that held only the deepest of blue hues. Red could not help but pause for a moment, marveling in the industry that surrounded his pack.
He was thrown from his brief reverie as he heard the bark of an authoritative voice. “Shale! Keep the smiths focused. I see them drifting. Koda, check down-tunnel to see how the miners are doing. We need another load of ore before the next rotation.”
He followed the voice through the cavern, his focus and anger returning with every step. He found the speaker in the center of a group of the militia. The voice belonged to Watchdog Topaz, and she looked very, very busy. She gripped a ream of papers covered with notations in her grey-dappled paws, flipping through them as she referred to each of the different work stations. Red felt a brief moment of hesitation as he approached the Watchdog, but before he could reconsider Topaz looked up from her notes, her green eyes meeting his yellow one. “Red? Not very often I see you down this deep. What do you need?”
Red exhaled, and allowed his anger to bolster his confidence and conviction. “Watchdog, I request council with you and the Beta.”
Topaz’s ears flattened back at the bold request. “Does it have to be now, Red? The miners are getting behind schedule. They’re still a bit spooked after that gaggle of unlucky dogs broke into a chamber filled with Trolls yesterday. The only dog that survived that mishap, ironically, was Lucky.”
Red smirked. “Doesn’t Lucky only have one ear and half a tail?”
Topaz scowled at Red’s little joke. “The doctors say that he’ll only have three legs after they’re done sewing him back together.”
He winced. “I’m sorry to impose, Watchdog Topaz, but this is important. I’d like an audience immediately, if possible.”
Topaz exhaled slowly, handing the stack of notes off to a nearby aide. “What’s this about, Red? You’re usually a good dog. Something’s got your hackles raised though, I can smell it.” She rubbed at her eyes, yawning.
“I need to speak with you and the Beta about taking a leave of absence.”
Her ears stood in startled surprise, and her eyes widened, locking onto Red. “A leave of absence? That’s... pretty serious. You know that we need your expertise above ground, Red. You bring in the trade craft and keep the merchants happy and their ships running. To put it mildly, you’re invaluable to our operation.”
He frowned, allowing some of the anger to show in his posture. “These are extenuating circumstances, I’m afraid. My request still stands.”
The Watchdog’s hackles raised slightly. “I could order you to drop whatever’s got you in a huff, you know.” Topaz’s eyes grew dangerous, as she took a step forward. “I’m your Alpha, and my word will be obeyed.”
Red knew better than to challenge her, taking a step back and lowering his head submissively. “You won’t, though.”
Topaz snarled, bending slightly to bring her nose right in Red’s face. “Won’t I? You think you know me, dog?”
He dropped to his knees, bearing his throat to Topaz, at her mercy. “You value me, and I’ve never asked for any favors. I’ve earned my keep in your pack, Watchdog. I bring in my share of the meat, and never take more than I’m due.”
She snarled in his face for a moment longer, green eyes fixated on his own yellow eye. Red held her gaze briefly before looking away, towards the roof of the Hub. Topaz’s teeth snapped forward, pulling a tuft of fur from Red’s throat, but she backed off at that, her duty to rebuke Red fulfilled. “Very well, Red. You’ll get your council, and we’ll work something out.” Topaz extended a paw to Red, and he took it. She pulled him upright, and nodded. “You’ve got balls, Red, I’ll give you that.”
Red chuckled, idly rubbing the patch of his coat where Topaz had bit him. “That puts me ahead of Lucky, at least.”
Topaz walked away, towards the upper den. Red watched her for a moment before she turned, facing him with an impatient expression. “Well?”
Red blinked, startled at the question. “What?”
The Watchdog rolled her eyes. “For the smartest dog I know, you certainly are an idiot sometimes. Let’s go, Red. Now. Council. Remember?”
“Now? Right now?”
Topaz placed a paw on her hip, ears perking forward and tail wagging with amusement. “You said it yourself. You’re a valuable member of my pack. You bring in the meat, Red, and you’ve never asked for favors. I can get behind that reasoning. So come on, or do I need to scruff you and drag you along like a pup?”
Red smiled, ears folding back in embarrassment. “Yes, Watchdog.”
Red followed Topaz, leaving the activity of the Hub behind. They meandered up the tunnel, other Diamond Dogs stepping aside and offering submissive nods to the Watchdog. Topaz favored them with gentle pats and kind words. Finally, they reached a larger tunnel, set near the center of the den. This area was the territory of the Watchdog and the Beta. Red followed Topaz into the tunnel. A metal doorway separated Topaz’s den from the rest of the cave complex, and a militia dog sat on a chair nearby, sharpening a knife with a whetstone.
The militia dog stood as Topaz and Red came into view, and opened the door for his Watchdog. Topaz entered her den, Red following close behind. The metal door closed behind Red, and Red’s eye adjusted to the darker-than-normal room. A pile of pillows sat in the center of the room on a thick, woven rug. Only candles illuminated the area, casting the den in a flickering twilight reminiscent of the Wastelands above.
Watchdog Topaz gave a distinctly un-restrained giggle and flopped into the pillows in the middle of the den, wriggling around for a moment before finding a comfortable position. She pointed to the rug in front of her impromptu throne. Red sat down, slightly put off by Topaz’s sudden lack of decorum. Topaz gave Red a mock-serious frown, scrunching up her eyebrows. “You’re so serious, Red. Come on! Relax for a minute. Give me that, at least. It’s not every day I get to leave my duties.”
There was a snuffling snort from one of the darker side-rooms. Topaz called out into the gloom. “Micah, we have a visitor. Packmate Red has requested council.”
There was a sleepy mumble, and a rumbling voice spoke back to the Watchdog from the dimly lit den. “Tell him to cram it up his tailpipe. I’ve got more important things to do.”
Topaz rolled her eyes, giving Red a slightly exasperated look. “Micah, come.”
Micah muttered to himself, and there was a creak. Red leaned forward, neck craning to catch a glimpse of the rarely-seen Beta of the pack. Micah sat upright in the dark, on a bed of pillows similar to the one Topaz now reclined in. He glared out of the darkness at Topaz, blue eyes reflecting back the light and giving them an eerie sapphiric gleam. Micah reached out and pulled a iron wheelchair closer to his body. With a ripple of prodigious upper body strength, he hoisted himself up into the chair. His mangled legs hung uselessly beneath him, and as he settled into the chair he adjusted his lower appendages into a more normal position.
Micah rolled into the other room, a sour look on his face. The big diamond dog was still as imposing as ever, despite being bound to the wheeled device. He scowled at Topaz and wheeled to a stop next to her pile of pillows. “Look at you, acting like a pup. We’ve been called to council, Watchdog. Have some respect for the occasion.”
Topaz gave Micah a wry smile and sat up on the cushions, facing Red. Micah pulled a notebook from a bag slung to the side of his wheelchair, along with a piece of sharp graphite, and recited in a bored voice, “Council is called to order on this, the one thousand, five hundred, and fifty—” Micah’s ears perked briefly towards the ceiling before making a mark in the notebook, ”—sixth stormfront recorded since the Feast of Gaia. Packmate Red calls council.”
Red stood up, feeling briefly nervous as Micah yawned rudely. He remembered his anger, though, and used it to fuel his speech. “Watchdog Topaz, Beta Micah. I’ve called you here to request a leave of absence from my duties. I’ve been—”
“Denied.” Micah waved a paw at Red dismissively, scribbling in his notebook.
Red knew that this was part of the council, but couldn’t keep his ears from canting back angrily. “I’ve been given a disturbing report from a group of Dirigible Dogs that—”
“Dirigible Dogs? You come to us with gossip from the air pirates?” Micah scowled, glancing at Topaz. “I certainly hope you’ve got better things to do than listen to this.”
Red continued on, unswayed by Micah’s rude interruptions. “The Dirigible Dogs say that Gilliam’s carrier ship, The Dog’s Bollocks, has been destroyed, and—”
Micah laughed. “That pompous scathead had it coming. I hope the Griffons made him eat his own tail before they destroyed his ship.”
“It wasn’t the Griffons,” Red growled, his anger getting the better of him briefly.
Micah glared at Red. “Watch your tone, pup. I was bringing in the meat before you were off your mother’s—”
“It was a pony that destroyed Gilliam’s ship.”
Shocked silence reigned in the den for a moment, and even Red was surprised by his own insolence. It was time to do or die. Red knew he had mere moments to justify interrupting the Beta of his pack, or face the violent consequences. Red took his opportunity; “I have been informed that Gilliam’s ship was destroyed by a pony, the one that the Wastelanders call ‘the last pony’, or ‘Harmony’. Furthermore, I have proof of her existence.”
Micah snarled, nearly falling out of his seat with anger. “You dare interrupt me with drivel like that?! I’ll—”
Red growled at Micah, his own hackles rising. He took a desperate gamble, playing on Micah’s hatred for ponies. “You think you’re the only one that lost something to the glue-sticks, Micah?”
“You know nothing about loss, pup!”
“I know loss! I’ve suffered in this world, just like the rest of us. But, unlike you, I’ve been directly affected by the cursed ponies!” Red removed his eyepatch and gestured vehemently to the mass of scar tissue. “This was the work of the last pony, Watchdog Topaz, Beta Micah. She took my eye from me, and now I intend to return the favor tenfold.”
Topaz was silent, and even Micah’s anger abated as he stared at Red, waiting now for an explanation. Red paused for a moment, exhaling out his nervous jitters. He had come very close to death. Topaz and Micah would have never allowed such a challenge as he had presented to stand without a very good reason. “Something the Dirigible Dogs said jarred my memory. I had forgotten the circumstances of my... accident. I had a vision of my encounter with the so-called last pony. She is strong, smart, well armored and likewise armed. She defeated me in a battle of strength and left me for dead with the skull-bone of one of her ancestors shoved in my brain.”
Red looked to Topaz. “Now, she’s returned. She destroyed Gilliam’s carrier ship. The Dirigible Dogs say she used magic to do so, that she summoned a giant fireball. Regardless of how she achieved it, it was done. The last pony destroyed the most dangerous piece of engineering that the joint efforts of the Dirigible Dogs and Diamond Dogs have ever produced. Though you may not have liked Gilliam, that ship was a symbol of our species’ strength, and a twice-cursed pony swatted it out of the sky like so much scrap.”
Micah and Topaz both looked angry, now. Topaz stood, and without a word they moved into the adjoining room. Red could not hear more than whispers as they convened, and began to pant nervously, unable to help himself. He remembered the eye patch that he clutched in tense paws and replaced the article over his scars.
After several tense minutes, Red heard them approach and settled himself, trying to appear calm. Topaz stood before Red, and Micah wheeled to flank her. Micah spoke first. “You are certain that a pony still lives, Packmate Red?” Micah’s voice spat the word ‘pony’ with a level of vehemence he only reserved for their kind.
Red nodded, relief blossoming in his chest and stifling the quaver he was sure his voice would have emitted. “I am certain, Beta Micah.”
“And you believe this last pony to be a threat, Packmate Red?” asked Topaz, her eyes hard and questioning.
Red nodded, lowering his head submissively. “I believe so, Watchdog Topaz.”
The Watchdog and Beta glanced at each other, and then Topaz returned to her seat among the cushions, and Micah wheeled himself backwards slightly. Micah gestured to the rug. “Sit.”
Red sat. Micah leaned forward in his chair, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Explain your request for a leave of absence, in light of the exposure of this threat to the pack.”
“Beta Micah, I intend to hunt the last pony,” Red explained, allowing some of his anger to darken his voice.
Micah grinned savagely, sharp teeth glinting. “Just what I was hoping you’d say.”
Topaz spoke, her voice carrying with it the air of an order. “Packmate Red, whelp of Ruby, you are hereby granted a leave of absence totaling no greater than thirty-six stormfronts. During that time, you are permitted to abandon your duties in pursuit of the last pony.”
“And when you find the glue-stick, when the light leaves her eyes... you let her know that Micah sent you. A little payback for taking my legs from me in The Feast.” Micah’s voice was almost giddy with a zealous hatred.
Topaz continued. “Upon completion of your task, you shall return forthwith to resume your duties among the pack. If you are unable to carry out your mission in thirty-six stormfronts, you may return and petition for additional time, at which point we will debate the merit of allowing you to continue.”
Red stood and bowed before his leaders. “Thank you both. I’ll leave as soon as I am able. May I be given leave to requisition supplies and materials?”
Topaz’s head cocked to the side. “Materials for what?”
He grinned, a glint in his eye. “My airship.”
Red entered the hangar in the side of the crater, returning from the tunnels below. The stormfront had rolled overhead an hour ago, leaving the air above ground smelling of ozone. Ace and Quint were scrambling over their plane, making pre-flight checks. Quint halted as he cleaned some ash out of one of the engine intakes, noticing Red. “Well, hello pup. You’re just in time to lower these hangar doors of yours so we can get out of here.”
He approached Quint, who hopped off the wing of his aircraft. “I’ve got a job for you, if you’re interested in making some strips.”
Quint’s eyes gleamed with a sudden hunger. “A job, hm? What are we talking about? I’m not about to go chasing ponies across the Wastelands with you, if that’s what you’re going to ask me.”
Red shook his head, lifting a pouch that jangled with the sound of metal from his satchel. “I need engine parts. Goblin engineering, from one of the Petras. I’ve got six hundred silver strips for you on delivery.”
Quint licked his chops, grinning at Red. “Six hundred strips? That’s an awful lot.”
He returned Quint’s grin, “I’m paying you for speed. I need those parts here before the next stormfront. You’ve got five days. Think you can make it?”
Quint looked to Ace, who had ambled closer to the conversation. Ace looked thoughtful, claw scratching his chin, and Quint crossed his arms. “Well, pup, strips or no strips, we don’t have a load of time. We’ve got another job to run, see? We need to get a shipment for the goblins at the Petra west of here.”
Red looked surprised. “They’re paying you more for a delivery?”
The two Dirigible Dogs looked distinctly uncomfortable. Quint scuffed a paw in the ash on the floor. “No. The cheapskates are holding out on us, see?”
Gesturing towards their aircraft, Quint explained. “The engines on that baby are Goblin make. Nowhere else in the wasteland to get them serviced except at one of the imp cities. The little jerks know it, too, so Ace and I have to do jobs for them, as payment for keepin’ our ship in the air.”
Red eyed the engines on the aircraft, walking a little closer. “These are boiler-powered engines, right?”
Quint gave Red an affirmative nod. Red smiled slyly. “Well, gentlemen, it would appear that your goblin problems are about to be solved.”
Quint crossed his arms, looking skeptical, and Ace moved forward, paying close attention. “How do ya’ figure that, mutt?”
Red reached into the bag hanging at his side, and retrieved a sketchbook. He flipped through several pages before opening the sketchbook to a particular section, turing the book so that Quint and Ace could see the contents on the page. The page contained a sketched diagram of the very same engine on their plane, along with dozens of minute notes around the drawing. “Look familar?”
The two Dirigible Dogs were silent, staring at the page. Quint and Ace both looked at each other after a few moments, and smiles spread across the two dog’s muzzles. “Pup, it would appear that our schedule has just opened up. What are you proposing?”
Red snapped the book closed, tucking it away into his satchel. “Pretty simple. I need engine parts, and you need engine repair. I’ll pay you four hundred silver strips for you to get me the engine parts I need, and on top of that, I’ll repair your engines, for the very reasonable sum of zero strips.”
Quint scowled. “Too good to be true. What’s the catch?”
“The catch is that the first repair is on the house, but if you keep coming back—which you will—then it’ll cost you. But, I promise that my rates are far better than what the goblins would ever give you.” Red watched Quint and Ace as they considered his proposal, his confidence growing.
Finally, Quint nodded. “All right, Red. You’ve got yourself a deal.”
Red chuckled. “Good boy. Here’s the list of the parts.” He handed Quint an envelope.
Quint pulled open the envelope, digging out the list, and his eyes wandered down the notations. His eyes widened as they traversed the page, and he finally spoke. “What in Tartarus are you up to, Red?”
Red took a step back and moved deeper into the hangar, into the darker recesses of the massive structure. He arrived at the back wall and flipped a switch. Lamps embedded in the walls sparked and ignited, illuminating the far end of the hangar and what it held.
The airship was massive, shaped like a huge, elongated pontoon boat. The front sported a wide, yawning mouth and a extended forward deck. The forward viewports of what was undoubtedly a bridge positioned above the ‘mouth’ created the illusion of the front of the ship having a face. Six huge turbine engines mounted on rotating joints were positioned carefully, one on each corner of the body of the ship and two located centrally, aligned to provide lift and forward thrust for the airship. The back of the ship sported two sideways rotor engines, like those mounted on the gyrocopters of goblin design, which provided maneuvering.
Ace and Quint stood, mouths agape. Red moved to a ladder mounted on the forward deck of the ship and climbed up the side of the craft, standing atop the protruding deck. “Well? What do you think?” Red grinned with barely contained excitement.
Ace immediately approached, Quint trailing behind, and they joined Red on the forward deck. Quint knelt down, prodding the surface of the deck. “This is the real deal, pup. I’m impressed!”
Ace pointed up towards the forward view ports. Red nodded, “Sure, I’ll give you a tour.” Ace’s tail began to wag, and he followed Red eagerly.
Red led them inside the wide mouth of the ship. The inside was strangely bare, and the forward deck ran smoothly into the interior of the hull, continuing to the back of the container, where the engines for the airship sat in the darkness of the interior. Red moved to the engines and gave them a fond pat. “These are my design. They’re the same design that I used for Gilliam’s ship. These engines power the six side-turbines and the pair of rotors in the back.”
Ace looked about the interior, giving a low whistle of appreciation. Quint was still a little stunned. He gestured to the yawning front port of the airship. “Why such a large opening?”
Red looked particularly pleased with himself. “Because, my dear Dirigible Dog, this—” Red gestured to the wide tarmac of the interior deck, “—is the launch deck.”
Quint laughed, and even Ace sniggered silently. Quint composed himself after a moment, noting Red’s serious expression. “Oh, Gaia below, you’re serious. This thing is a flying runway?”
Red nodded, gesturing to the sides of the runway. “I’ve installed a system of pulley cables and a second powerful engine underneath the deck.” Red gestured to a thin trench that ran the length of the ship’s runway. “It works like a crossbow. If a lightweight plane was loaded onto the deck, and hooked up to the cable system, I could accelerate it off the deck and give it the forward momentum it needed to stay aloft.”
Quint and Ace both examined the trench, looking down the length. After a moment, Ace got Quint’s attention and made a complex paw motion at him. Red was reminded of a pup, demonstrating a flying aircraft with his paws. Quint watched Ace’s paws for a moment before turning to Red. “Ace wants to know how you land the ship after you launch it. Gilliam’s ship had a similar launch system, but he had a much longer deck than you’ve got here for landing planes.”
Red nodded, smiling. “Well, Gilliam had to be able to land all sorts of ships on his carrier ship. I only need to land one. So, I calculated out a minimum distance needed to launch the ship safely, and used that as a starting point. But that’s when it hit me: why not reverse the launch system?”
Red gestured down the length of the trench. “I built this cable system to work two ways. First, it launches. Second, it catches. A long cable is stretched across the front-most point, and the aircraft catches the cable on a grappling device on the way in for landing. The cable goes taught, and the system acts as a massive brake, bringing the aircraft to a stop quickly.”
Ace nodded as he listened, his eyes traveling along the deck. Red could see the pilot dog imagining the landing. Quint spoke up, “You’d need to be a pretty good pilot to pull that off.”
Red shrugged. “I’ve never flown before. My main concern, now, is getting underway. While I hunt the last pony, I’ll work on building the interceptor, probably a two-seat monoplane with a tail gunner, to launch from inside here. It should only take me a few stormfronts, tops. In the meantime, I’ll be gathering information, learning about the last pony. Finding her weaknesses and strengths. And once I know what I need, I’ll start the hunt in earnest. I’ll need to hire two pilots, one that can fly the interceptor and one to fly the carrier, while I go with the interceptor in the gunner seat and take the fight to the glue-stick.”
Quint chuckled. “Pretty ambitious.”
Red's eye scanned the interior of the flight deck carefully before gesturing towards a few metal walkways in the upper area that dotted the hangar deck. “Above us is the main body of the ship. Storage, a cabin, and the bridge of the airship.”
He led Ace and Quint to a metal stairway up to the walkway, carefully crossing them before reaching an interior hatch. Red pushed open the door and moved into a large room, full of empty shelves that covered every wall. The middle of the room was dominated by a long table, covered in papers scribbled with sketches and equations. Red gestured around. “This is the storage room, but it doubles as a workshop.”
Red moved towards the stern of the airship, opening another door. This room was smaller, almost cramped feeling, holding two bunk beds that were bolted down to the floor and a small series of upright lockers for more storage. “This is the crew cabin. This ship could be run by a single dog, but it’d be more efficient if four worked the ship; a pilot and gunner for the lightweight aircraft, and a pilot and engineer for the carrier itself.”
Red gestured aft, towards another doorway. “There’s additional storage back towards the aft of the ship, for supplies and so on. Now, let’s go to the bridge of the ship.”
Red, Ace, and Quint all moved forward through the crew cabin and primary storage room. Red pulled open a second hatch, and stepped onto the bridge of the ship. It was slightly cramped, with a single seat set at the forward-most point and an array of complex flight controls arranged in front of the seat. Wide windows wrapped around the front and side of the room, giving the pilot a one-hundred and eighty degree view of the sky. A glass skylight sat above the pilot’s seat, providing a view of the region above the ship. Red stood aside as Ace nearly jumped into the pilot’s seat, eyes racing over the controls of the ship. After a few silent moments, Ace turned to Red and grinned.
Red laughed. “Well, looks like Ace found something he likes.”
Quint, who had been mostly silent during the tour, chuckled. “He’s a pilot, Red. And, really, after all that alcohol, he’s as happy as a puppy with a toy. I’m surprised he isn’t trying to make this crazy contraption of yours take off right now.”
Red smiled at Quint and Ace. “She isn’t quite ready. I need those parts for the engines. They’re missing a few key components, including a power source. But...” Red looked to Ace and smiled. “...you get me those parts, and I’ll let you be onboard when I take her out for her first flight.”
Ace leapt out of the chair, spat in his paw, and offered it to Red. Red spat into his own paw and clasped it to Ace’s. Quint snorted. “We were going to do it anyway, Red.”
Red smirked at him. “But now Ace is going to make you do it faster.”
Quint eyed Ace, who appeared giddy with excitement. “Clever.”
Red stood at the end of the runway, watching Ace and Quint’s plane fly into the distance, on their way to retrieve the engine parts he needed. Red smiled to himself and ambled back towards the hangar. He had a lot of work to do to get his airship into flying condition, and not much time to do it. A chill ran down his spine as his ears picked up the distant sound of the stormfront that had passed overhead.
He returned to the hangar, walking around the length of his airship. He’d never considered launching it before. For years, the airship had been a pet project—he worked on it in his free time, improving the design, retrofitting pieces, and using the massive airframe as a playground for his intellect. He’d never had a reason to fly it, and so had never completed the thing, simply expanding it over time and using it to test new ideas—ideas like the catapult launch system. He’d tested the design for the catapult, of course. He’d estimated the weight of a small aircraft and mocked up a small airframe, weighted down with excess metal slag from the forges below to provide the right amount of weight for the simulation. The catapult had been able to accelerate it to the estimated required speed for launch.
Frowning, Red massaged his temples and closed his eye, thinking hard. He knew it worked. He’d still need to build a lightweight vehicle that could act as an interceptor. The massive airship would never be fast, regardless of its design. He’d designed it for stability, the six turbines and the two rotors more than enough to ride through even the roughest turbulence, as well as enable the lightweight plane to land safely on the forward deck. If he had to chase the last pony in the air, she’d likely be able to outrun his airship... but the interceptor?
Sighing, Red opened his eye. The only thing between him and success was putting theory into practice. He’d never flown before, but he knew all about flying. If he could get into the air, the airship would be easy to pilot, and wouldn’t require complex know-how to operate. The interceptor was another issue entirely, however. It would take a lot of experience to be able to pilot the small craft, especially when it came to taking off and landing on the airship, and experience was one thing he did not have the time to acquire. He’d need to find a pilot, then; one that could fly the interceptor and take the fight to the last pony, or anybody that challenged him for that matter. Red had met Goblins, Dirigible Dogs, and Griffons on the rare occasion that they had landed at his airstrip, looking for repairs. They’d told boastful tales of ruthless air piracy, epic dogfights, and other mid-air feats he couldn’t begin to describe, and Red had learned that there were only two types of pilots: good pilots, and dead ones.
Walking to the frame of his ship, Red ran a paw along the side of the hull, his fingers tracing along the tightly welded metal plates that made up the body of the ship. Looking up into one of the turbines, he exhaled slowly, pushing aside his doubts and concerns for the time being. Right now, he needed to get to work.
Moving towards the ladder leading up to the forward deck, Red reached for the first rung, only to wince from a headache blossoming in the front of his skull. Red clenched his teeth as fireworks exploded in his vision, and he fought a sudden spell of vertigo. He found himself on his knees as the headache intensified, increasing in magnitude. “This... nngh...impossible!”
Red’s mind searched for a reason why this was happening. He knew he had injected himself with lunar dust only a few hours ago.
Groaning, Red collapsed to his side as foreign images and haunting, bizarre colors exploded in front of his eye, dizzying and sickening. Red gasped for air, the hangar’s temperature seeming to plummet to freezing cold depths. Behind the scars where his other eye should have been, a throbbing pain exploded, and Red opened his mouth in a voiceless howl, claws scrabbling uselessly at the ground. His eye rolled around in its socket, searching for anyone nearby, but there was nobody. His vision began to brighten, colors oversaturating as everything bloomed to white nothingness. Red closed his eye against the brightness. Behind his eyelid, mist swirled, a sickly emerald-green fog that contained shapes. For one instant, Red imagined that he could see figures. A lone pony, wings spread, screamed as green fire engulfed her form. Red opened his eye, and—
—I stood, frowning with concentration at the book of magic that lay open before me. I’d been preparing for this all day, but couldn’t help but feel a little nervous trepidation. My little sister smiled at me, her eyes holding a hint of excitement that I didn’t feel. “Are you ready?” she asked.
I swallowed the lump forming in my throat, and nodded. “I guess so.”
My father’s study was a mess. I had been searching through tomes of magic and spell books, looking for a spell to try out. The teachers at school had never let me do anything but the most simple spells. I knew I was better than that. This was my chance to really push myself.
Closing my eyes, I focused, channeling arcane energy through my horn. I envisioned the spell effects clearly, concentrating on manipulating the leylines of magic to my design. I felt the energy build and release, and I opened my eyes, peeking upwards. My horn radiated its purple aura, and to my surprise a similar colored globe of energy had formed around my body. I smiled at my sister. “Do it!”
My sister giggled, and using her own horn to levitate a bucket of water, upended it above my head, sending the liquid pouring down onto my shield spell. The water cascaded around the aura of protection, and I smiled with newfound confidence. It had worked!
A tiny hoof pointed to the soaked rug, ruining my confident smile. “Oh, dad isn’t going to like that.”
“Oh, great. I’m going to have to c—”
—Red awoke with a gasp, rolling to his side almost immediately to retch, gagging on his own spit. He was on the floor of the hangar, covered in a cold sweat. His stomach finally finished heaving, leaving him breathlessly panting. He sat up slowly, groaning and rubbing his head. He had hit the floor pretty hard and... something else had happened. His vision attained crisp clarity as a jolt of terror shot up his spine.
He reached up to his forehead quickly, touching the spot of fur right between his eye and the eye patch, near the top of his brow. He wasn’t certain what he expected to find, since there was only fur there. Red breathed a sigh of relief, as he attempted to process what had happened. Had that been... what had that been? A hallucination?
Red sighed, shaking his head. “Of course. A hallucination.” The fungus alcohol sometimes had that effect. Cooper was always careful about his distilling, but the occasional contaminated batch did slip through. He’d have to let the dopey bartender know. He got to his hind legs, feeling slightly shaky, and moved towards the stairs leading down into the den. He’d get to work on the airship after having a chat with Cooper.
“Because it was the alcohol,” Red announced to the empty hangar. The alcohol had done that to him, made him briefly lose his mind. That was all. “I’m not crazy.”
Red shuddered.
Red stood on top of his airship, adjusting the array of lightning rods he had just installed. He’d linked the rods to heavy-duty insulated cabling, which in turn ran down the insides of his ship and linked to the engines. Not only would the rods serve to absorb lightning strikes, but he could use them to charge the batteries that he would be installing on the ship as soon as Ace and Quint returned with his materials.
Stretching and bending to work a kink out of his spine, he surveyed the ship. He’d had a lot of basic work to do: the body of the ship had been looked over, and loose paneling or any other trouble spots in the airframe had been secured. The turbines had been cleaned and oiled, and he had hooked up each one individually to a small portable battery he had on paw. While it didn’t allow the turbines to spin up fully, it had been enough for Red to calibrate the turbines and make certain they were working properly.
It had been four days of focused work, but the airship was ready, save for the engines. Red felt a measure of excitement. This wasn’t just another job on some random ship—this ship was his. He’d built it with his own paws. Red smiled to himself, opening the small hatch that led into the interior of the airship and dropping down into the bridge. He closed the hatch above him and moved out of the bridge, down the stairs, and to the front landing deck. From there, he walked along a makeshift scaffold that he had erected along the side of the airship. He stood on the side, staring at the bare metal. Bending down, he retrieved a jar of thick, black paint and a brush. With a air of solemnity, he began to daub paint along the bow of his craft, his normally scrawling script becoming careful.
Stepping back slightly, Red smiled as he examined his handiwork. Written large across the bow of the ship, was the name The Crimson Score. Red tilted his head, considering for a moment, then in a burst of random artistry dipped his paw into the paint and pressed it to the hull, leaving a pawprint beside his ship’s name. He nodded to himself, liking the personal touch. He shook some of the excess paint off his paw.
While Red wiped his paw off on a dirty rag, his ears perked as he heard the sound of an engine in the air—an aircraft was coming in. Red moved quickly down the ladder, heading out of the hangar at a fast sprint. He recognized Quint and Ace’s plane, flying overhead and working to align for a landing in the crater. Red smiled and ran, heading to the base of the mooring tower to retrieve the flag from inside. As Ace and Quint’s ship completed their flyover, Red reached the edge of the tarmac and raised the flag up, marking the end of the landing strip for Ace. The aircraft touched down without issue and Red followed alongside at an easy pace as they taxied into the hangar.
Red met the two air pirates as they exited the belly of their plane, hauling crates down the ramp. Ace drug a heavy crate behind him, and Quint carried several smaller boxes, stacked precariously. Red lent the two dogs a paw, grabbing the topmost boxes off of Quint’s load. “Welcome back, boys. You manage to find everything on the list?”
Quint smirked, gesturing with his chin towards their plane. “We got what you ordered, Red. How’s your crazy ship coming along?”
Red set down several boxes, stacking them on the hangar floor, and gestured to the far end of the structure. “She’s just about done. Once I can get the engine parts installed, I’ll be ready to take her out on her maiden voyage.”
Quint stacked his boxes atop the growing pile, as Ace lugged the crate of parts to the bottom of the gangway, assisted by Red. A few more minutes of concentrated work saw the plane unloaded of its cargo. Ace and Quint stood quietly by as Red opened up the multitude of boxes, checking the contents. Finally, Red faced the two Dirigible Dogs. “Everything’s here. Excellent work, dogs. You’re not half bad, for air pirates.”
Red tossed Quint a pouch loaded with currency, and the small dog caught it with a smirk. “The way Ace and I see it, anybody looking to off the last pony’s got the right idea. It’s about time somebody saw that glue-stick off to join its ancestors, and reminded everyone that the Dirigible Dogs deserve respect.”
“Plus, Ace still wants that ride, right?” Red smiled at Ace as the big dog’s tail began to wag. “I knew you didn’t forget. Don’t you worry, Ace. You’ll get your chance to see my airship up close.”
Red got to work immediately. As Ace and Quint helped him move the boxes of parts into the airship’s hangar deck, Quint saw the name painted on the bow of the ship immediately. “The Crimson Score? Got a nice ring to it.”
“It represents my mission. The last pony already took down one of our ships. The Crimson is going to even the score,” Red replied, bent low over one of the engines, using a wrench to tighten one of the new parts into place. He bent low into a crate for another engine part.
Quint chuckled. “Not bad! I like it, anyway. Very... memorable.”
Ace gave the name a thumbs-up, and Red smiled. “Glad you both approve.”
Gesturing to the engines, Red looked to the two Dirigible Dogs. “Let’s get started, then.”
Quint held up a paw. “What about our ship?
“The faster I get these parts installed, the sooner I can work on your ship,” replied Red.
Quint shook his head. “Come on, Red. You finish our ship first, and then we’ll help you out. We have places to go, after all.”
Red considered for a moment, turning away from the engines. “...What needs to be done on your plane?”
Quint smiled. “The engine on the left wing isn’t getting the same power output.”
Red nodded, “All right, that doesn’t sound too bad. I’ll fix her up for you, and then we’ll get to work on the Score.”
The three dogs exited The Crimson Score, and soon Red found himself on the wing of Quint and Ace’s aircraft, elbow-deep in the complex machinery of the engine. Quint and Ace stood beneath him, watching with interest. Red felt slightly uncomfortable. It wasn’t often that clients watched him work. Red finally spoke up, “So, how’d you two get in with the goblins?”
On the ground, Quint shrugged. “Wasn’t too hard. We ran cargo in an old zeppelin, and we made good strips on courier services between the goblins and the Dirigible Dog headquarters, delivering parts and supplies back and forth. Then, a goblin offered us a deal on an aircraft.”
Red chuckled, adjusting a valve and tightening several sections of piping. “Your mother didn’t tell you about goblins offering deals?”
Quint scowled, and Ace snorted. “I, uh... well, Ace knew something was up, but I didn’t listen to him.”
Ace kicked Quint in the shin, eliciting a yelp from the smaller dog. A brief scuffle ensued as Quint tackled Ace, and the two Dirigible Dogs wrestled on the floor. They broke apart after a moment, smiling good-naturedly. Quint took a moment to catch his breath before speaking again. “Yeah, as you can see, Ace won’t let me live it down. I didn’t realize at the time, but the deal was so good because only goblin mechanics know how to fix goblin machinery, and goblin mechanics charge out the snout for repairs to non-imps.”
Red shook his head, before spotting something in the engine. Red stuck his head and shoulders into the engine, using both paws and a wrench to remove a piece, and held it up. The article in question was a section of valve that was oddly bent with a small rupture. “You dogs happen to fly through any cold climates recently?”
Quint sighed, nodding as he looked at the piece. “Yeah. We had a layover in the northern mountains four stormfronts ago.”
Red nodded. “Looks like the cold froze up this valve, and the liquid inside expanded and ruptured the piece. I’ve got a replacement part, luckily.”
The two Dirigible Dogs looked relieved. “Thanks, Red. Glad to know we’ve got another mechanic to rely on.”
Red nodded, hopping down off the wing and heading down to the den to retrieve the part. “I’ll get this installed, and then we’ll get to work on my ship.”
Quint and Ace sat on the launch deck of The Crimson Score, parts spread out around them on the floor, examining each piece and cleaning it before handing it off to Red. Red installed another piece of the engine, muttering to himself under his breath as he moved between the engines and the batteries. “Quint, hand me that cable.”
The smaller Dirigible Dog picked up an insulated cable that connected to the batteries and offered it to Red, who took it and, using his teeth, bit off the end of the insulation, revealing the braided wiring underneath. He spliced the cable into another cable that ran up to the lightning rods, and then began covering the newly connected wiring with strips of non-conductive wrap. Red lit a blowtorch and began to heat the strips of insulation, melting the individual pieces together into a solid unit.
Stepping back, Red looked over the parts. The batteries had taken some work to integrate with the existing electronics, but Red was confident in his skills. The engines were nearly complete as well. Quint and Ace were of considerable assistance.
The three dogs turned as a shout came from outside the aircraft, echoing in the hangar. Red shrugged at Ace and Quint and moved out of the inside of the ship, looking down to the hangar floor. Topaz stood below, Micah beside her in his wheelchair. Red raised a paw in greeting. “Hey there. What brings you two up from the mines to the world above?”
Topaz smirked. “Just checking up on you, Red. Cooper informed me that he hasn’t seen you down in the Corner for a few days.”
Red scratched his head, thinking. “I guess it’s been a bit. I’ve been focused.”
Topaz chuckled. “Good to know you’re taking your hunt seriously, Red, but there comes a point when it’s a good idea to take a break. Have you eaten recently?”
Sighing, Red shook his head. “Not really. I mean, I have some dried meat up here that I’ve been...”
Catching Topaz’s stern expression, he relented. “No. I haven’t eaten.”
Topaz gave Red a knowing look. “We figured.” She waved the dogs down. “Come on, then. Let’s get some meat in your belly. Your two... acquaintances... can come too.”
Red, Quint, and Ace followed Topaz and Micah down into the den, and found themselves in Cooper’s Corner. A large group of Diamond Dogs were there, eating and chatting jovially. When Red entered the bar, the pack let out a cheer. Red found himself surrounded by grinning dogs, slapping him on the back and shaking his paws, offering him drinks. Red looked helplessly at Micah and Topaz, both of whom were laughing at his bemusement. “Word’s spread of your hunt, Packmate. They’re all here to celebrate.”
Red laughed, still slightly confused. “Celebrate what?”
Micah held aloft a mug of potent drink, and roared to the crowd, “The end of ponies!”
The cry was taken up by the assembled dogs. “The end of ponies!” Red found a drink pressed into his paws, and even Quint and Ace were served by exuberant dogs. Red raised his cup to the pack, and they quieted down, waiting to hear what he had to say. Red coughed, not used to the attention, but knowing that he was expected to say something. “Thank you, all of you. I’m not sure I deserve this, but I can tell you, I won’t let you down.”
Micah raised his voice, wheeling next to Red. “For thousands of years, before the Feast of Gaia, the cursed glue-sticks spat on us. They kept us from the riches of the earth, claiming territory and land that was rightfully given to the Diamond Dogs by Gaia, mother of us all.”
The pack growled, some booing and shouting curses. Micah’s voice rose again, taking on a fervent tone. “The ponies worshipped their goddesses of sun and moon, and failed to pay fealty to Gaia. They used her body, tearing her apart and building atop her mountains, angering her with their transgressions, dabbling in magics. They oppressed our ancestors, driving them from their mines, refusing to trade equally, looking on us as lesser beings, to be used for our gems and then discarded.”
The Diamond Dogs growled again, and Red even felt his hackles rise along with their anger. Micah continued, pausing only to take a brief drink from his mug. “I remember the Feast of Gaia. I knew what it meant. When the Great Mother first began to rumble, I could feel it in my bones. Gaia had been attacked.”
A hush went over the dogs, as they listened to Micah’s familiar tale. He continued on, eyes bulging with a violent, zealous rage, spitting every syllable. “The ponies had used their magic, and their goddesses had attempted to kill Gaia. For all the hatred we held for the accursed ponies, even the most lowly dog knew that to kill a god or goddess is the greatest sin. The world was held in a balance by all the gods and goddesses, and though the ponies had always taken advantage of their closeness with their goddesses, we would have never suspected them capable of such a heinous act.”
Red clenched his paws around the mug, listening and remembering the Feast, remembering the terror. It was a distant, confusing memory, but one full of loss. All the dogs were rendered solemn and silent, as they reflected on their personal experiences. Micah paused, giving them a brief moment, before continuing on, voice shaking passionately. “Their Goddesses of Sun and Moon worked their dark magic, and entered into combat against Gaia, seeking to control her domain. The battle was long, and ultimately, by the strength of our great Goddess, they failed, but only after destroying so many. Gaia feasted for a day and a night, consuming all that was not of the earth. The ponies were destroyed... or so we thought.”
Micah gestured around to the pack, drawing them in with his movements. “We thought that Gaia’s victory was complete, that though the world may have been nearly ended, we had triumphed at last over the cursed equine races. We were wrong.”
Micah placed a paw on Red’s shoulder, and Red felt pride in the gesture. Micah looked only at Red as he spoke. “Red encountered the last pony, and just like her ancestors, she did what came naturally. She attacked. She battled Red, and she left him marked.”
Red wasn’t prepared as Micah’s paw reached up, pulling the eye patch from his head, revealing the scars underneath. The pack grumbled and growled as his old wound was revealed. Micah smiled. “However, this is not the end of the story. By Gaia’s grace, Red survived, marked by the last pony. And, so marked, he was singled out by our goddess for a far greater purpose than he had ever imagined.”
Micah tenderly reached out, his paw pressing over Red’s scars. “Packmate Red was chosen to finish the work that the goddess began. He was given a mission.”
Red bared his fangs. “The end of ponies.”
Micah nodded. “Yes. The pony marked you, and the goddess saved you. You will bring the goddess’ work to fruition. You will kill the last pony.”
Topaz approached, placing her own paw atop Red’s head. “More than that, though. When Red strikes against the last pony, he will be returning honor to our race. Dogs, word has come to us that Gilliam’s great airship, The Dog’s Bollocks, was stricken from the sky.”
The pack gasped, growling and murmuring amongst themselves. A few cried out.
“How?”
“Who could have done that?”
Topaz held up a paw, hushing the pack. “We know the culprit. It was none other than the last pony.”
The dogs were shocked, silent for a few moments as Topaz’s announcement sunk in. Topaz continued to speak. “The pony knocked Gilliam’s ship out of the sky using the same cursed magics of her race. She spat in the face of our glorious pack, dogs. She destroyed the greatest and most dangerous weapon of war we had ever created.”
Topaz smiled at Red, patting him on the head fondly. “And Packmate Red intends to return the favor.”
The dogs cheered, howling, the noise thunderous, and Red saw Quint and Ace howling with the rest of the pack. Red stood up, bowing to the pack, and they became quiet. He cleared his throat, glancing at Topaz and Micah. The Watchdog and Beta nodded to him, urging him on. Red spoke, his voice strong. “Packmates, friends. I will complete this task. For the pack, for our race, and for Gaia herself!”
The pack howled, and Red punctuated his proclamation by draining his mug dry, and handing it to a nearby dog. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a ship to build and a pony to kill.”
Red strode from the bar, Quint and Ace following him, as the pack cheered. Micah caught Red on the way out, pulling the younger dog in close. The Beta’s eyes were fierce, and his voice was harsh. “Remember, Red. When you kill that pony, you do it for everyone... but don’t forget me. Tell that pony, Red.”
Red nodded. “I’ll remember.”
Micah nodded, seeming satisfied, and smiled at Red. “Your mother would be proud to see you, now.”
Red froze, staring at Micah. Micah looked Red in the eye, speaking slowly. “It’s a shame, what happened to her.”
Red’s ears flattened back, his voice becoming quiet. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Micah held a paw up, keeping Red in place. “It wasn’t your fault, pup. The pony was the one that hurt you. She left you addled. If it hadn’t been for the pony, your mother would still be alive.”
Red growled softly. “I know.”
Micah smiled, teeth glinting. “Good. Remember that. Now go.”
Leaving his Beta behind, Red strode up the tunnels, meeting Ace and Quint in the hangar. They both slapped Red on the back, grinning. Quint spoke up, “Well, Red. You’re some kinda folk hero, now. Ordained by the goddess herself, hm?”
Red shrugged, face serious. “I’m not sure about all that. I just know that I’m the dog for the job. I’m not doing it for the goddess, or the pack.”
The two Dirigible Dogs looked slightly confused, and Red sighed. “Come on. Let’s get to work and finish those engines.”
Hours later, the three finished installing the parts Red had ordered from the goblins. Red sighed as he put the last engine piece into place, using an arc welder to seal the last joint. The Crimson Score was finally ready.
Together, the three dogs moved up to the bridge. Red took the pilot’s seat, smiling with excitement as he powered up the turbines for the first time. The engines drew power from the batteries and came to life with a roar of energy, and the six turbines howled, filling the hangar with their deep-throated rumble.
Red sat in the pilot’s seat on the bridge, Ace and Quint standing behind him, watching with excitement. Red looked back, smiling at the two Dirigible Dogs. “Here we go.”
He pushed several levers, and placed his hand on a large thrust toggle, pushing it up slowly to a marked half-way point. The airframe of the ship shuddered, strained, and then finally lifted up off the ground, hovering a scant few feet above the floor of the hangar. The twin maneuvering rotors at the back of the ship roared as Red switched them on, and the ship balanced in the air, maintaining its station as Red adjusted the maneuvering engines slightly. Finally, with a grin, Red pushed the primary thrust lever forward. The six turbines rotated on their joints, and The Crimson Score began to coast, slowly moving out of the hangar and into the crater.
Red laughed, and Ace gave him a slap on the back. Quint spoke up, his high voice giddy. “Well, look at that. The pup can fly.”
Red grinned fiercely as the ship cleared the hangar and shoved a few levers forward. The ship rose from the floor of the crater, lifting off as the turbines roared to full power. Red pushed another lever forward, and then looked back to Ace. “Ace, would you do me the honor of bringing us in to dock with the mooring tower?”
Ace chuckled silently, a voiceless hiss of mirth, and took the pilot’s seat as Red stepped aside. Ace ran his paws along the controls, his eyes narrowing in concentration briefly as he studied the layout. Then, with a relaxed efficiency, he began to work, paws flying across the controls, adjusting the speed and climb of the ship, leveling her out at the peak of the mooring tower. Red moved to the windows and watched. The crater, his home, stretched out beneath him. His eye rose, beyond the lips of the crater walls, and looked out on the Wastelands. Before him stretched the endless expanse of ash and dust, lit dimly by a scorched and sunless sky. Far off in the distance, he could see the roiling edge of a stormfront, blowing in slowly towards his home. It would arrive in a matter of hours.
Ace brought the The Crimson Score in close to the mooring tower, gently guiding her to one of the berths. He set the engines to a lower setting, and throttled down the rear rotors, and the ship settled into a hover. Red joined him at the controls, and pulled a series of levers and switches. Docking clamps extended from the bow and stern of the ship, and Red watched the readouts as they moved into place. Finally, the clamps found the mooring tower and latched into the berth. Red smiled as the readout lights switched from red to green, indicating that the ship was docked. Ace reluctantly surrendered the pilot’s seat, and Red got to work, spinning down the turbines to a low hover.
Red stood up as Quint and Ace beamed at him. Quint offered a paw to Red, who took it. “Not bad, pup. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ace so excited,” said Quint, gesturing to his normally very composed pilot. Ace managed to suppress his grin, his face falling into its usual neutral expression, but his tail was not so easily contained, wagging ceaselessly.
The three dogs left the bridge, and Red led them out a hatch on the side of the ship. He extended a small gangway, and they all moved off the ship onto the mooring tower. Red laughed, raising his arms up above his head exultantly as he surveyed his vessel. She’d flown. “I can’t believe it. It’s done.”
Quint and Ace glanced at each other, smiling at Red’s exuberance. “So, what’s the next step, Red?” asked Quint.
“Well, next I need to wait for the stormfront that’s about to blow in to charge up the batteries fully. They’ll need a full charge if I’m going to do any more flying, and rather than wait for a generator to power them up, I’m going to harness the power of the storm to get The Crimson Score ready to fly.”
Quint nodded, looking out towards the horizon and the distant stormfront. “Well, sounds like you’ve got everything planned out.”
“How about you two? What will you both be up to, now that this job is over?” Red asked, his excitement fading slightly.
Quint gestured back towards the Hangar, smirking. “Well, Ace and I got another delivery job lined up. We’ve got to pick up some stuff at this out-of-the-way little hellhole in the wastes north of Mount Ogreton, and bring it to this place called the ‘M.O.D.D.’ It’s a little pub on top of a mountain, way to the east of here, run by a bunch of monkeys. It’ll take us about two solid stormfronts to retrieve the stuff and then fly to the M.O.D.D.”
Nodding, Red looked out to the east, voice lowering. “I think It’d be great to meet up at the M.O.D.D. You know, catch up?”—Red turned to face Quint and Ace, expression serious—“I don’t have anybody out there that I can rely on, no ties to any organizations. I’ve lived in this little corner of the Wastelands all my life. I think... I’d like to start expanding my horizons beyond my pack’s territory, and that begins here.”
Quint and Ace shared a sideways glance. Ace shrugged, and smirked. Quint nodded slowly, a smile spreading across his face. “Yeah, you know what, pup? That sounds good. Ace can draw you a map with the M.O.D.D. on it, and give you some headings to follow.”
Red smiled, “Sounds good to me. We’ll meet at the M.O.D.D., two stormfronts from now.”
The three dogs headed down the mooring tower, back across the crater to the hangar. Red waited outside their plane as Ace went inside, returning several minutes later with a crudely drawn map and a few sets of numbers indicating headings Red should follow. Quint, meanwhile, did pre-flight checks on the plane, prepping their vehicle for takeoff ahead of the stormfront.
All too soon, Ace and Quint were gone, leaving Red alone in his crows’ nest on top of the mooring tower. Red watched as their aircraft banked to the east. It’s wings suddenly dipped, rotating briefly left and right in an aerial salute. Red laughed, shaking his head at Ace’s little farewell maneuver. He turned into the wind, then, facing the approaching stormfront.
This was it. He felt the all-too-brief bubble of exuberant energy burst as lightning flashed in the distant storm.
Inexorable, unstoppable, unrelenting, and utterly predictable, a stormfront rolled towards Red, and for the first time in nearly one thousand two hundred and fifty stormfronts, he was going to be out in the middle of it.
Red sat in the pilot seat of The Crimson Score, powering up the engines, his eye glancing up every few moments to the windows; as the stormfront approached, it filled the sky with black clouds that spat lightning. Already, he could see the leading edge of whirling sleet. The Crimson Score groaned in her berth as the harsh winds assailed the mooring tower. Red completed the pre-flight checks, the final switch closing the doors to the open mouth of the hangar deck below him, and exhaled out the nervous energy that filled his stomach.
He had brought supplies on board earlier before the maiden flight, food and water enough to last him several stormfronts, as well as a few other knick-knacks, including his syringe and several vials of freshly-prepared lunar dust mixture. He didn’t know when he’d have time to prepare more within the next few stormfronts, so he wanted to be ready. In fact, Red was as ready as he’d ever be.
The only problem was that he didn’t feel remotely ready.
Stormfronts were a part of life in the wasteland. If he was going to fly over the wastelands—if he intended to hunt for the last pony—he couldn’t afford to avoid stormfronts any longer. It was time to face it down, fly into the furious electrical phenomenon and conquer it. If he couldn’t manage that, then this entire endeavor was a massive waste of time.
Red chewed on the inside of his cheek, trying to release some of the nervous tension. The stormfront filled his view ports, rolling over the top of him. Red fired up the engines, growling to himself. “You got this. Every pilot has to do this at some point. Come on, come on, focus!”
The terror bloomed in his guts as the stormfront hit, thunder crashing overhead. Lightning struck the edge of the crater, and Red found himself on the deck, curled in a ball as the edge of the storm raged in the window above his head. It was too much. He fought the whimpers that threatened to escape his throat, grinding his teeth together and trying to find something, anything to focus on. He could smell burnt meat, charred flesh, and all too quickly, he was taken back, an addled pup recovering from a traumatic brain injury. His vision fogged as he remembered.
Red knew he was in trouble as he stared into the sky above him. His brain couldn’t quite process his trouble properly, focusing instead on the bizarre patterns and chaotic beauty of the clouds, as they roiled overhead, filling the air with sleet.
How had he gotten out here? His brain tried to put pieces together, analyzing, but it wasn’t up to the task. He had been practicing walking, and that was good. Momma wanted him to walk whenever he could. Walking was good, it made him stronger, made thinking easier. Momma wanted him to recover, wanted him stronger, and so did he. He felt dimly proud, until a rumble overhead reminded him of his current circumstances. He focused, thinking. He remembered walking, and then he remembered being lost. That happened a lot. He forgot things, silly things, but he was getting better. He walked too far, though, this time. He remembered a nice dog, a funny dog, telling him which way to go. He’d followed where the dog pointed, but he must have done something wrong.
Overhead, the clouds boiled, and Red was entranced by the beauty of their almost lifelike movements. The fresh air was like a balm, clearing his head, and he smiled up at the sky. He stretched his paws up, feeling the sleet rain down on him, cold and strangely refreshing. Then the thunder came, louder than anything he could remember.
Red screamed, curling up in a ball as lightning scorched the ground nearby. The lights and noise were everywhere, like a maze to the broken mind of the addled Diamond Dog. He couldn’t see anything but the flashes of lightning as it struck around him, couldn’t hear anything except the howling wind and the explosive acoustics of thunder. He lay in the middle of the crater, writhing in pain as his mind was overwhelmed by the power of the stormfront. He coughed, turning his head away as ash and sleet fell around him, driving into his open, howling mouth.
He couldn’t remember much, but he remembered The Feast of Gaia. He remembered the roar of the earth. Now, it was back. Gaia had remembered the souls she had overlooked in her feasting so many years ago, and was back to claim them. The world was ending all over again, and Red knew that he would be buried, swallowed up by the hungry goddess, his body crushed beneath a million tons of rock.
The Diamond Dog writhed as lightning crackled around him, deafening him, further dulling his already damaged senses. He felt, rather than heard, the rapid approach of something that slid through the sleet and ash to fall at his side.
Paws clutched him, and Red’s nose was filled with the comforting scent of home. He opened his eye and discovered that Ruby was kneeling over him. Her face was streaked with tears, but she smiled. He mouth moved, saying something that his ears couldn’t hear. Her paws tugged at him, and Red found himself on his feet, staggering forward. He could see, far away, another dog, waiting at the tunnel into the den, watching from the safety of the entrance and waving them inside. Red moved, stumbling, and paws pushed him forward, urging him into a headling run. He moved, faster, feeling his fur stand on end as he pushed himself. He felt charged, giddy, a tickling sensation. Suddenly, those careful paws at his back shoved him, pushing him down into the ash. An explosion of light, so bright and so close, kept his head down for another moment. Rolling onto his back, he looked behind him.
Ruby stood on her toes, arms askew at odd angles as smoke rose from her body, curling in wisps from her fingertips, her elbows, her head, and into the air. She was twitching slightly, then fell to her knees, head slumping forward. Her back bent and she fell without ceremony, face-first into the ash and sleet.
Red couldn’t remember going to her. He couldn’t remember lifting her up, carrying her back to the tunnel. All he could remember was the smell of charred and burnt fur, the reek of smoking flesh.
Red shivered on the deck, nostrils full of the stink of ozone and burnt fur, mind scrambling for something, anything to cling to. He retched, his nerves overcoming him briefly as his fortitude waned. Around him, The Crimson Score trembled and shook with the fury of the storm overhead. His head rang with the noise outside.
He managed to stand up, moving back to the pilot’s seat through an effort of will. He placed his hands on the controls, trying to still the shaking that suddenly ran through his paws. He closed his eye, trying to think of anything that could bring him a measure of fortitude.
Ace and Quint came to mind. He imagined them, waiting for him at the M.O.D.D.. He imagined never arriving, their disappointed faces as they left, writing him off as another wanna-be pilot. That mutt’ll be stuck in the ground until Gaia claims his sorry hide.
He pictured Ruby. Briefly, all he could see was a charred corpse, and his stomach twirled as his claws dug into the pads of his paws. After a moment of terrified mental scrambling, he dredged up her face, her green eyes and warm smile. He imagined what she’d say. Red, what are you waiting for? An invitation? The phrase rang in his mind, bringing a smile. She’d always used to say that, whenever he hesitated to do something she’d asked. She’d be so disappointed in him if she saw him now, balking in the face of a couple of clouds.
Red opened his eye, and faced the front viewports. He gasped, all the mental fortitude he’d gathered suddenly flying away as he stared at the “couple of clouds” above him. He’d forgotten the power, the raw destructive potential of the full brunt of a stormfront. He’d been terrified of the leading edge of the storm. This... this was the belly of the beast.
He couldn’t do it.
His ears flattened back on his head. Maybe he could try again. Maybe... the next stormfront wouldn’t be so bad? He didn’t... have to fly in a stormfront. Maybe the last pony was as afraid of stormfronts as he was.
Laughing bitterly at himself, Red sagged in the pilot’s chair, his arms dropping to his sides. This was it. This was what he amounted to. All his intellect, all his planning, and he was thwarted by meterological phenomena, reduced to lame excuses.
Red stiffened as he felt a sudden, sharp pain explode in his head. His head lolled to the side as he lost motor functions, sitting loosely in the seat, body twitching as his muscles spasmed.
He couldn’t help but feel a small bit of satisfaction as the headache overwhelmed his senses, sending him lurching sideways out of the chair as he forgot how to sit up straight. This, at least, wasn’t a made-up excuse. His vision exploded in a kaleidoscope of color, and—
—I woke up with a sharp gasp of terror, sitting upright in bed. Outside, thunder crackled and a storm raged, and something was in bed with me. I nearly screamed, leaping out from under my blankets and rising to my hooves. A tiny voice squeaked as I grabbed the edge of my blanket in my teeth pulled the covers off my bed, my horn glowing and lighting up the room.
My sister was curled in a small ball, staring up at me through her dark mane. She looked awful, tear tracks staining her muzzle and bags under her big eyes. I sighed with a measure of relief and annoyance, spitting out the edge of my blanket and letting it fall to the floor of my room. “Are you alright?”
My sister shook her head, her mane tossing. Her voice quaked with barely restrained terror. “I-I’m scared.”
I knelt down at the edge of the bed, tousling her mane gently, my annoyance gone in the face of her fear. I was her big brother. It was my job to be there for her. Mom and dad were always so busy, working late in the city, and a lot of the time it was just the two of us. “Hey, it’s okay sis. Thunderstorms scare me a bit, too.”
She stared up at me, eyes wide. “R-really?”
I smiled, sitting down on the bed next to her. “Yeah, really. In fact, I’m glad you came in here. I was having a bad dream.”
She giggled, hiccuping slightly. “You don’t have bad dreams! You’re the strongest big brother in the world. Nothing scares you.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “I do so have bad dreams.” Closing my eyes, I tried to picture the dream. It was faint, something about... flying? I remembered lightning and thunder, though, and the smell of burnt fur, punctuating my dream and adding to my fear. “I don’t remember what it was, though. You rescued me before it could get really scary.”
She laughed, eyes widening. “I saved you?”
I nodded, making my face earnest. “Yep. You saved me.” I gave her a hug, feeling her fear drain away. “Thanks.”
I held her close as she laughed, a little pride entering her voice, replacing the terror that had been there. “Wait ‘til I tell mommy and daddy.”
I chuckled, pushing her away playfully. “Aw, come on! Don’t tell them I’m having nightmares! I’m supposed to be the strong big brother, not a fraidy-pony!”
She giggled, winking. “I’m just kidding! I’d never tell on you.”
I laughed, giving her another hug. “You’re the best little sister I could ask for.”
She smiled, nuzzling my cheek affectionately, and—
—Red’s eye snapped open. He sat up slowly, blinking away the bizarre dream. He rubbed at his head, as thunder boomed overhead. The headache had passed, gone as suddenly as it had come. He sat quietly for a moment trying to process what had just happened. Lightning flashed outside his view port, and The Crimson Score shuddered with the force being unleashed by the stormfront.
Standing up, Red touched his cheek. He could feel warmth there, like the ghost of the soft touch of a forgotten sibling. That had been bizarre, stranger than anything he’d ever experienced. More than that, though, the... memory... had filled his head with something other than the terror that had clouded his every thought.
He felt strong.
Moving to the pilot seat, Red reached out to the controls, and throttled the turbines up. The docking clamps strained, and he pressed their release switches and gripped the controls. The Crimson Score rose, shivering as the airframe was buffeted by the howling wind. Lightning struck the mooring tower next to his ship, and Red smiled, baring his teeth with a ferocious growl.
“Here we go!”
Red opened the throttle, and The Crimson Score responded, lifting into the storm. Red laughed with exultation as his ship rose through the grey and black expanse, her windows spattered with moisture as the storm engulfed her. He flipped a switch on the panel in front of him and the exterior of his ship was suddenly illuminated, as lights snapped on across the ship.
“Lift! Lift! Come on, baby, bring me the sky.”
The Crimson Score roared upward, turbines straining and engines pushed to their limit as she screamed skyward. Red sat at the controls, watching as the lightning rods absorbed strike after strike, charging his ship’s batteries, breathing life into her engines and pushing her to new heights of performance.
Red stood up, abandoning his seat to stand at the controls, his energy level too high to accept sitting down any longer. He was as charged as the batteries beneath him, as the storm around him. He eased back on the throttle, adjusting his course so his compass heading pointed east.
Engines rumbling, The Crimson Score broke through the roof of the clouds, exploding into the perpetual twilight. Below, the thunderheads of the stormfront gathered like colossal mountains. Between the haze of the sky and the very dim pinpricks of the stars above, and the clouds below, Red was treated to a surreal landscape of immeasurable beauty. He gasped, one paw reaching out to press against the window. He couldn’t have imagined this moment ever occurring.
He’d always been a Diamond Dog, a whelp of the earth. Dirt was under his claws and in his blood. He’d stayed within his den, the hangar, the crows’ nest, never once considering life beyond the walls of his crater. Storms had hemmed him in, keeping him close to shelter, safety. Now, though?
Now, his claws clutched the sky, and his reach was infinite: as far as his craft could carry him. The twilight haze of the sky—for all its dim lifelessness—belonged to him. Out here was uncertainty and danger, and he discovered that he wouldn’t have had it any other way. He’d faced the stormfront. A smile passed across his face, and he rubbed at his eye briefly, feeling overwhelmed by the moment. He sat down in his seat, pulling a lever, rotating the airship around slowly, taking in everything.
Red stopped the slow rotation of The Crimson Score and decreased the power to her turbines, sending her into a hover on the roof of the world, and adjusted the course to face into the east. Red closed his eye, focusing himself, centering his energy and reminding himself of his purpose. He wasn’t here to sightsee. He had a job to do. A mission to accomplish. He was going to complete the work of a goddess, bring pride back to his pack.
More than that, more than anything, he was going to make the last pony pay. For his father. His brother. His mother. Himself. For the world they had ruined.
He placed a paw on the toggle switch controlling his forward throttle, pausing for a last, brief moment to take in the sky—his sky.
Red pushed the throttle forward, and the hunt began.
- End of Chapter 2 -
Special Thanks to:
WardenPony, shortskirtsandexplosions, RazgrizS57, and TheBrianJ
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An update, you say? It's two in the morning, you say?
What is this sleep thing you speak of?
828775
Haha, I'm flattered that you're willing to lose sleep on account of my story!
828832
I was actually about to go to sleep, but a random refresh of fimfiction brought my list of unread favorites up by 1, so, of course, I had to see what it was. I was pleased and started reading.
...Which I still haven't finished... Confound these notifications! They drive me to distractions!
Ah, of course! That horn fragment is magical, so it makes perfect sense to have a mind meld of sorts since part of that horn is now embedded in Red's brain. I like that little twist. It should make the story very interesting.
“Celebrate what?”
“The end of ponies!”
What has been done there, I have seen
White horn, shield spell, Big brother.
Seems Scootaloo's restraint of using the remains of people she knew didn't extend to Twilight's brother.
Woo!
This Is Great, More Reading.
Also Australian Time FTW.
829526 I was having the same rhought. We could be wrong but even the magic color matches
So Red has Shining Armour's horn stuck in his brain?
)
Interesting...
I wonder if this will affect his personality later in the story? (Assuming that the flashbacks increase in frequency and/or power. They normally do in stories like this one
Either way, thoroughly enjoying this story so far. Do you know if SS&E will be giving you a shoutout whenever he starts work on EoP again?
829526
In all fairness, he just kind of came out of the blue. Who the buck is this guy again?
Kick ass. Some nice insights into Diamond Dog culture, Red's past and the upcoming misadventure. I thought I'd be put off by his ruthless attitude towards killing Scootsie, having grown quite attached to said character after reading EoP, but the new perspective that it offers is really quite excellent. Also, the whole visions of an unnamed but probably deduceable brother/sister unicorns is a nice addition, even if it is a tad cliche and out of the blue - i.e. the reader doesn't know what the trigger event of these visions are considering Red's had the thing in his eye for a while... but you might just not have explained that yet.
Anywho, the second chapter was a blast to read, you've absolutely nailed the pace whilst maintaining an excellent measure of depth into Red's background. You write fluently and in a captivating manner...there's really very little that I can pass negative criticism over.
...Also, 'The Interceptor', is that a deliberate Pirates of the Carribean reference? I think I noticed a few other ones too...
829526 and 829832
Hm, interesting speculation, gentlemen. I'll have to be a little less ambiguous in Chapter 3, just to clear a few things up. Also, if you read Background Pony, the scene with the shield spell and the bucket of water is a big shout out to that story.
829545
Glad you're up late/early/Australian to read the next chapter! Hope you're enjoying it!
830713
Red Wings is canon to the universe of End of Ponies. While I can't say what SS&E plans to do with End of Ponies, he's definitely involved with Red Wings, and he's taking into account that my story is happening in his EoP Universe. Red is doing things that will have an effect on the Wastelands, and each chapter I write gets me closer and closer to catching up with his story arcs in End of Ponies.
830795
Yeah, who IS that guy!? Wait, who are we talking about?
831211
Glad you're enjoying it! Red IS ruthless. He's a good character, but maybe his motivations aren't so pure. Vengeance is his bread and butter. There's definitely a reason Red's suddenly started having these visions, and I've dropped a little foreshadowing here and there.
As to "The Interceptor", I wasn't actually aware of a Pirates of the Carribean reference. I call the unbuilt, small aircraft an 'Interceptor' because that's technically the role that the aircraft is filling: Interceptor.
Finally, a fun fact for everybody to be amused by: Red's ship, The Crimson Score, was originally named The Big Bitch.
831650 That is actually what made me think it was SA. Otherwise I would have assumed it was a random pony... sometimes it's more fun to just read and not try and figure everything out
831687
I'll admit, it's also a lot of fun to try to figure things out!
Crazy flashback theory time:
When Red got one of his visions he thought he saw a pony engulfed in green flame. Obviously this is Scoots as she is going back in time.
When Spike blasts Scootaloo into the past this sends a ripple across the magic continuum. The horn stuck in Red's frontal lobe picks up those ripples like an antenna and produces a weak version of the original time travel spell. The seizures and visions are actually Red's mind travelling back in time for a short while.
This explains why he never had seizures before (Scoots didn't meet spike yet). I also pity him since he's in for a lot of seizures the coming storm fronts...
831838 I like your thinking, definitely plausible.
I'm calling it: the horn belongs to Shining Armor.
Also, this was glorious.
Oh, looking back at the comments, it seems like I wasn't the only one who made that discovery.
831934
Hadn't even thought of that!
And another awesome chapter.
831934
Glad you enjoyed the chapter!
833108
Thank you for reading!
When you doing that scene of him moving out into the storm I thought you were going to have him go "I am a leaf on the wind, watch how I soar" and then I realized just how similar parts of this is to firefly. Also this is to be integrated into the greater EoP cannon?! I might have just fangasmed as this is amazingly good and EoP is my favorite story in the entire fandom. Also just the entire premise of taking the protagonist/hero and making it the antagonist and target for revenge for non minor slights is also something that I rarely see in any media. I'm stealing this for a dnd game and making the "bad guys" have their own chosen one (destroyed hometown and all) as heroes rarely have to deal with the full impact of their actions. Basically love the idea, execution and continuity with EoP is the extra squee on the cake.
833694
I love Firefly, and some of the imagery may have been inspired by it to an extent. I'm glad that you're enjoying the story!
Also, feel free to totally steal this idea for a D&D game, lol, I approve of inspired DMing.
833799
I'm going to have a camera on me so if they cast a detect alignment or an alignment tuned spell I can capture their faces when I tell them that the guy their running from is lawful good (maybe paladin). All of the daqfu faces are going to be priceless as I have a giant shit eating grin about the entire thing.
Would Red remember scoots being a flower girl if he learns her real name from a...oh i don't know...small flying rodent of some sort?
Because that MIGHT be a bit weird.
This story keeps on being awesome
.
I found only one fault with the story language wise:
.
"It should only take me a month, tops." ~ Red\
This seems a bit inconsistent with the terminology, since they've been measuring everything by stormfronts so far. Just a minor nit-pick
Also, if you ever need inspiration for the airships, you should look up a game called Crimson Skies. The air-craft used in the game are very similar to those described by yourself and SS&E, and might give you some additional concept designs to work with.
That's all for now, keep writing
834193
I love Crimson Skies! My brain might be drawing a bit from that game as well. Hell, I'm drawing ideas from all over the place. Thanks for pointing out the flub, I'll fix it asap! Thanks for reading!
834223
.
No problem whatsoever
'Tis great to find someone else who loves that game
, and it's made this story just that much better, knowing that some inspiration has been drawn from there 
Between you and Skirts, I'm overloaded with awesomeness. Keep being my drug dealers.
Still good stuff.
But, one thing though, isn't it "crow's nest" not "crows' nest"?
834223 turing the book -- turning
urging him into a headling run. -- headlong
and his stomach twirled as his claws dug into the pads of his paws. -- how does a stomach "twirl"? Perhaps it "churned" ? Might fit better.
I am the slowest and the worstest!
Okay, so let's just stumble through semi-coherently:
Opening is good. I'm liking your world building, and your characters are all believable and enjoyable. Then you shift into tech building instead, and it feels like it gets a little slow. Also, after the tech stuff starts up, once or twice I got the impression that the Diamond Dogs were a bit less hopeless and depressing than most of the Wasteland as we've seen it in EoP. Of course, we see things through a different set of eyes there, and the world isn't ALL suffering. The context jump scenes fit well and shift with good timing. Overall, a solid chapter. I still haven't hit the same level of enthrallment as I had in the opening to the first chapter, but other than a brief lull during the tech focus I was still very engaged.
I worry a little about the pony scenes, though. I don't know how long you intend for this to be, but if what I think is going on is going on, I think they'll start to feel stale or grating in a dozen chapters or so if they don't come to a resolution. And again, if I'm right about what I think is going on, you won't want to resolve that until at least the 2/3 mark. Eh, it's still early in the story. We'll see.
Yes. Good chapter, strong development, solid characterization, mostly good pacing. Little dip in the middle, potential depression level mismatch, worries about carrying the pony mystery for the right amount of time.
Hopefully this is something resembling a useful piece of feedback. Also hopefully, I can do a chapter a night up through Thursday and finish catching up on the weekend.
After long last, I have finally bothered to continue reading past chapter 1. For such a big fan of EoP, I am surprised I waited so long. Ironicly, I still havn't finished EoP either. (Damn you Dreadmane)
Whoa. That was pretty awesome.
I like the cinematic feel of the narrative, with the flashbacks and the scene changes and all that. You've written a very visual story, and I especially appreciate that. The scene in the tavern when Micah gives his speech sent chills up my spine. That was well-written.
The flashbacks--both Red's own and those of the unicorn colt in his brain--are very well done. I love how you segue in and out of them, I love the use of italics, and I love the very stark switch in mood. The entire scene where Red's preparing to fly into the stormfront was really cool... but really long.
Just like EoP, my difficulty with this story lies in the ridiculous onslaught of unnecessary words. It works in Background Pony because a philosopher is talking. In third person narratives like this, I get bored with huge paragraphs that say the same thing a hundred times, especially when they could literally be squeezed into a sentence. This chapter could be half its length and still be plenty entertaining and revealing.
But, that being my only qualm, the storyline, characters, and flashbacks are freaking awesome, so I'll certainly keep reading. It's a really good story with lots of genuinely interesting elements... it's just too wordy when it doesn't have to be.