A Method to his Madness

by Luna-tic Scientist

11 -- Plague ship

The bar was a lie.

A curving space that occupied one of the chambers at the nose of the Canterlot Dreaming, it was plushly furnished with dark mahogany panels and brass pipe work, with the actual serving counter facing the panoramic windows that occupied the forward wall. Through those windows was a breathtaking view of the Dragonbacks, a range of jagged mountains that, from the airship's altitude, seemed to rise and fold like rumpled fabric. In the distance was the open ocean, highlighted by a glimmer of light from the low sun at this latitude, and a final end to Razorclaw territory.

Equilibrium sniffed disdainfully and turned her back on the view, returning her gaze to the drink the barpony had put in front of her. Like everything else, the drink was a lie. The heavy-looking wood and metal of the bar was nothing more than a thin veneer over high-performance construction plastics or foamed aluminium structures; it looked pretty, but there was nothing actually there. Libi glowered at the drink; the same could be said of its alcohol content.

"What is this?" she asked with quiet menace, transferring her hostile stare to the barpony.

He trotted over, the kit of measures and basic ingredients jingling gently in the harness over his withers. A towel in the Dreaming's green and blue colours hung over his neck, clashing horribly with his burnt orange coat and red mane. "Ma'am? Is there a problem?"

"I asked, 'what is this,' you stupid earthpony. This is not what I ordered."

The stallion flinched at the anger. "There's no call for that, ma'am. My apologies, but I'm not allowed to serve you any alcohol because of your condition. The doctor was very specific." He waved a hoof to encompass her swollen flanks.

Libi hissed in displeasure. Everything always comes back to you, doesn't it Junior? she thought, turning her attention inwards. Damn you, Neighmann, even now you are ruining my life -- and damn you, Doctor whatever-your-name-was. I bet you did this just to spite me.

The unicorn medic had examined her as soon as she'd been dropped off by that pervert of a crewpony, an examination that had been excessively invasive and overly rough, especially towards the end. Her neck still ached from the clumsy oaf's attempt to get a blood sample, and she'd managed to get in some cutting remarks that had almost made the unicorn stallion lose his temper, especially after she'd threatened him with misconduct. Libi ground her teeth. Petty and unprofessional. Another name to add to my list when I call my lawyer. The unicorn had ignored her after that, rushing off to treat the rest of the injured from the embassy break-out. Hearing that many of the ponies had escaped did little to improve Libi's mood, and only served to deepen her anger at Reaper Of The Weak.

"I can get you anything you like, but nothing alcoholic. I'm sorry, ma'am."

"Then there's nothing I want from you," Libi said, watching as the barpony turned and trotted away. "Useless mudpony," she muttered, just loud enough that he could hear. His ears twitched, but he didn't turn around. She smiled slightly, then took a sip of the drink -- something fruity and tropical -- before grimacing again. Don't these idiot ponies know I just want to forget what they did to me?

Her gaze drifted around the room; it was moderately busy, with perhaps a score of ponies talking in small groups. Nopony was standing near Libi. She occupied a zone of cleared floor; anypony approaching the bar seemed to unconsciously walk in curved lines, like they were following contours on a hillside. Off to one side, at the corner of the big window, was a family of gryphons. Two adults and a-- What do you call a child gryphon? Chick? Cub? Or is it just 'monster'? --sat staring out at the mountains, occasionally moving to follow the track of the gull-winged aircraft that was circling the Dreaming.

"Why are those still here?" she said, loud enough that the nearest sets of ears swivelled in her direction.

"Excuse me?" the next pony along the bar said, turning away from his companion.

Libi took a couple of paces towards them, a mare and stallion pair of pegasi in late middle age. "Them. The gryphons."

Both ponies twitched at the venom in her voice and the stallion looked uncomfortable, like he wanted to sidle away. His mate looked puzzled and leaned closer to Libi, her eyes narrowing in confusion at the odd lump on her forehead. Libi smiled slightly and flicked her head to swish her mane to one side, revealing the stump of her horn.

Both ponies gasped. "Oh! You’re her, the one who was dropped off that gryphon aircraft this morning," the mare said, lifting one hoof to touch Libi lightly on the shoulder. "I'm so sorry to hear what happened, it must have been terrible. What... what has been happening down there? If you don't mind talking about it, that is."

Libi sniffed. "Monsters, they're all monsters. I didn't see any other unicorns, but there are still pegasi in the prison I came from. At least a dozen, all packed into one cell deep in the mountain." Other ponies had started to drift closer, the lure of her story overwhelming their unconscious desire to stay away. Even the gryphon family looked interested, although increasingly uncomfortable, as Libi raised her voice and started to tell her tale to the whole bar.

"...and that's when they caught me. The farmers must have called their police as soon as I left; it was the only way they could have found me so quickly. They-- they held me down and used a hacksaw--" Libi broke off, breathing fast. The memory was crystal clear; the feeling of the cold pebbles against her head, the pressure of the gryphon's talons, the grating rasp of the saw as it bit into her horn. For just a moment the anger was overwhelmed by horror.

"It's okay, you don't have to continue," one of her audience said, casting a dark glance at the gryphons. A muttering went through the crowd -- now swollen by other passengers from elsewhere on the airship as news of Libi's story-telling had spread -- and many of the ponies turned to stare at the family. They both took a nervous step back, wings spreading to shelter their chick.

The hate returned and, keeping her eyes fixed on the female gryphon, she reached forward, tapping the closest pegasus on the wing. "Every single pegasus was clipped... like they cut off my horn, to stop them flying away. They did the same to their own prisoners as well." Her hoof moved, making a cutting gesture up by the outermost wing joint.

The pegasus flinched, his ears folding back. "You mean they clipped their feathers?"

Libi tapped again on his wing joint. "No, the wing."

"Pinioned," he whispered, half dazed. "That's barbaric." He shook his head and took a step towards the gryphons. "Is this true, do you do this to your prisoners?" he demanded, wings making little flicking motions.

"It's reserved for a capital crimes, it's very rare..." the male said, his Equuish rich with the tones of a person who'd spent a lot of time in Canterlot. His gaze darted about the group, and he took another step backwards. The pegasus took a step forwards, and the rest of the crowd followed him. The gryphon trailed off at the hostile stares from the ponies, who now filled the bar almost to bursting point.

"Listen, we're not even from Razorclaw, in Goldenwing that punishment hasn't been given for over ten years--" He stopped talking at a frantic nudge from his mate, and both cast glances at the door. There was no easy exit in that direction; the crowd had pushed them to the other side of the room and the ceiling was too low to fly out without being grabbed.

The whole crowd had turned in their direction and both adult gryphons took one final step backwards, their rumps brushing the curved window. They exchanged a fearful glance, then the female put one wing out and folded it around her chick. The little gryphon looked out of the shield of feathers with big, frightened eyes. "Please, we want no trouble," she said, the normal raspy gryphon tones soft and trembling. "You're scaring my child. Let us leave if our presence is making things difficult."

"So it is true," the pegasus snarled, "a people who could do that are little more than animals!" He raised a hoof and jabbed the male sharply on the shoulder. The gryphon staggered, bringing up one clawed front leg to ward off another blow. Its fifteen centimetre black talons gleamed wetly in the bar's spotlighting; both adults were larger than the average pony, but were cowering in the face of the crowd's hostility.

The pegasus went to push again, dancing back when the gryphoness snapped her beak and hissed loudly. The volume of muttering in the crowd became louder and they shuffled their hooves, nopony wanting to be the first to make a move. For a moment it seemed like the situation would resolve itself, then a bottle sailed out of the crowd and struck the gryphoness on the side of the head. The glass shattered and she staggered, her mate turning to aid her.

That was all the crowd needed, and the front ranks surged forwards. Libi smiled nastily from her position back at the bar; she could see little except when a pony reared to kick out with forehooves, but hoarse gryphon cries and the thump on hoof on flesh was clearly audible.

A shrill whistle cut the air and a dozen pegasi wearing the ID collars of the Dreaming's security staff ploughed through the crowd at head height, dropping straight down into the centre of the fight with all four hooves. The struggle spread, the angry passengers turning on the security staff when they protected the gryphons.

A trio of unicorns appeared at the door, horns flashing as they quickly pulled passengers from the perimeter of the crowd and passed them onto the waiting earth pony staff who ushered the peaceful ones away while restraining those still keen on causing trouble. In the face of such organised resistance the fight drained out of them, the crowd dispersing to leave the bar to the security teams and medics.

With one last glance over her shoulder, Libi saw the pair of adult gryphons, huddled over their chick in the centre of a circle of bloody, trampled feathers.

===

Trailblazer lay bonelessly on the padded surface of the Canterlot Dreaming's sundeck. He was in 'civvies', the natural grass-green coat his parents knew him by, and otherwise only recognizable as military by his well-developed physique. To any but a keen observer, he was just another passenger snoozing in the sun. This particular spot, a platform jutting out of the rear of the airship, was protected from the wind by the bulk of the envelope, and sat in a bubble of warm, still air.

The Dreaming had left the coast of Razorclaw behind some hours ago and all three of the FOAL team had been taking advantage of the luxury accommodation the grateful crew had provided. Nothing had been more satisfying than watching the ominous bulk of the Shredder retreat as a flight of Equestrian Loup-Garou had encircled the airship.

That, and being able to wash the drying gryphon blood out of his fur in the best shower he'd had since leaving Canterlot city. A Guard pegasus could take his armour off and lose the white coat and blue eyes the enchantment provided, but the blood always stayed behind.

Stealthy hoof-falls were approaching from somewhere behind his tail; with the practice of one used to subterfuge, Trailblazer suppressed the natural motion of his ears and stayed still, as still as a foal asleep in the sun. He focused on the cadence of each quiet sound, trying to pick up any scent in the calm air of the sundeck. The pony had training, that was clear, and there was the near ultrasonic rushing sound of low-noise shoes brushing on the flexible deck surface. A slight hint of smoke...

"What do you want, Blevie?" he asked, then opened his eyes a crack.

The mare dropped to her belly next to him and rolled onto her back, waving her legs in the air like a large dog begging for a belly rub. "Spoil-sport," she groused, "I never can creep up on you."

"Nope. Where have you been? I thought you'd want to do a little sight-seeing yourself."

The pegasus opened both eyes and tilted his head to regard the dark blue earth pony. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed somepony had placed a large pitcher of something colourful and fruit-laden just within reach, and he blinked. What the hay? I didn't hear that arrive. Perhaps I am getting a little old for this -- snoozing in the sun like some civilian! This thought did more to bring him to full wakefulness than any teasing from his explosives expert. He reached out and dragged the drink closer, dipping his muzzle in the liquid and fishing out one of the juice-soaked apple slices. Flavoured with exotic plants from the tropics, it was heavenly. Perhaps there is something to this life, after all.

"Helping out the Dreaming's security staff. You heard there was a bit of trouble?"

Trailblazer's eyes snapped open and gave Blevie his full attention. "Report," he barked.

"A group in one of the bars became violent after a story session from that mare the gryphons dropped off. They turned on a family of gryphons that just happened to be in the way. Broken bones mostly, but there's a risk the female might lose an eye. Glass splinter." Blevie mimed something breaking against the side of her head. "Hopefully they can fix it when we get to a real hospital."

Trainblazer winced; any gryphon on a primarily pony airship like the Dreaming had to be extremely cosmopolitan. They would be far enough removed from the attitudes of their countryfolk that the sort of xenophobic responses of Razorclaw's population would seem as alien to them as it did to the average pony. "Any idea what set it off?"

Blevie hesitated, then rolled back to her belly and stared him right in the eye. "I don't know, boss. I've never seen a crowd turn so fast. It would have been different if the gryphons had been threatening, but by all accounts this group just wanted to stay out of the way." She bit at her lips, obviously trying to decide what to say next. "Boss, do you feel something odd about this ship?"

Trailblazer went to shake his head, but paused. Is there something? This was the first time he'd been in a potentially high-risk situation where he hadn't needed to be a Guard, and it wasn't obvious how large groups of threatened civilians would act when confined to this relatively small space. "There's certainly a lot of stress; everypony knows that if Razorclaw wanted to down the Dreaming, the fighters might not be able to stop them," he said neutrally, still trying to pin down the elusive feeling. It's not the only thing that's strange, is it?

How much of this can we put down to the chaos of a coup? he thought. Too many strange things that didn't quite make sense. Why didn't they object to the Express and her fighters? I suppose their command and control could be that distracted... and why bother returning one pony, and why in such a state? Was it a message, to make up for their inattention -- 'we can be ruthless, don't interfere'? He frowned, muzzle wrinkling. Everyone knew what the Princesses were capable of -- they had demonstrated that during the last Changling war. There was the feeling of something, a tantalising hint of revelation, just out of reach.

Blevie, silent for a long while, made a noncommittal sound, then sighed noisily. "I dunno. When I was down on the lower decks... there's something... I just get this feeling that something is off." She dropped her head to the deck with a thump and growled with frustration. "I don't know, maybe you're right and it's just the tension. Equestria has been at peace for a very long time... the sudden danger and the inability to run away, no way to follow your instincts..." She eyed Trailblazer's fruit salad of a cocktail and he sighed, pushing it in her direction. Fishing out a mouthful of fruit, she chewed reflectively, eyes half closing in bliss while Trailblazer waited for her to finish her thought.

"I don't like being here, boss. I was in with the passengers when the Shredder was overhead. You could hear the drone of its jets everywhere you went, and anypony who knew anything about the military hardware was just waiting for the crack of a railgun. Ponies were getting ready to jump ship; some crew were prepping the chariots and emergency gear, others were passing out carry-harnesses and pairing up pegasi with the flightless. There was panic, but we were working together, you know? We were doing what we do best; with a strong leader everypony falls in and follows the herd."

Trailblazer nodded slowly. He'd been up on the hull with the rest of the Guard pegasi, ready to do what he could if the gryphons had tried to board the Dreaming. He hadn't really believed the aircraft would open fire, but it had been a tense few minutes watching the stand-off between the Loup-Garou and the Shredder. Blevie had been in with the rest of the passengers, helping to organize the evacuation and ready to hide herself in the hull if they'd been overrun.

"So something's changed since then?" he said.

"Yes. I can't put my hoof on it, but... yes. There's anger and fear -- exactly what you'd expect, but it's magnified." Blevie made a reaching gesture out into the cloud-spotted sky, then sighed. "I don't know, maybe it is just me. Nopony likes to be in a situation they can’t control." She bounced back to her hooves, all traces of uncertainty gone, and nudged him sharply in the ribs. "Transport is on the way. We're supposed to go over to the Friendship Express, just in case the Triumvirate decides they want to get a little more 'hooves on' with the gryphons. I've got your kit already packed and in the hangar."

"What would I do without you, Blevie?"

"Still be snoozing in the sun, dead to the world, I've no doubt. You've got a few minutes, so finish your drink. I made it for you specially." Her smile widened at Trailblazer's look of dawning understanding, and she winked before turning and sauntering away.

Trailblazer watched her go, his relaxed mood shattered. He pulled a slice of something tropical out of the drink, suddenly feeling old. She got me, she finally got me... how long has she been playing with me like this? Their game of cat and mouse had spanned most of the few years he'd known the mare. Despite the mild embarrassment, Trailblazer smiled. It's always good to know you work with the best... and she really can do wonders in the kitchen.

His ears twitched at the distant hum of a new set of engines, but he ignored it. Plenty of time yet, he thought, dipping his muzzle back into the drink.

===

Back in armour -- it was always easier to wear the stuff rather than carry it -- Trailblazer stood on the windswept hangar deck with the rest of his team. All but a pair of the Loup-Garou fighters had departed; the remaining two were distant specks several kilometres overhead, circling and ready to pounce like a gryphon on a rabbit. It wasn't enough to stop a concerted attack, but that wasn't the point. The fighters, like the Shredder, were there to deliver a message. We are watching you. Quite whether Razorclaw had enough of a coherent government to take the hint wasn't completely clear.

Their transport plane, a squat thing with broad wings that seemed too small, approached with the characteristic near silence of a levitation drive aircraft; with no need for aerodynamic lift at these slow speeds the engines were only just above idle. It was far too heavy to land on the delicate upper deck of the Dreaming, so the pilot kept it floating a hoof-span above the chariot landing strip, little twitches of the flexible wings counteracting the turbulence behind the deck's observation dome.

A still fragile-looking Nightstorm slid the hatch open, using her hoof rather than magic, then carefully stepped inside, followed by Blevie and then Trailblazer. He nodded to the crew chief -- the earth pony, still tethered to a rail that ran along the centreline of the cargo bay, was instructing the Dreaming's crew on which of the supply crates they should take to avoid upsetting the craft's balance. Finally his task was complete and he trotted over to check the FOAL's harnesses were correctly secured.

"Welcome aboard, Captain," he said, tapping his forehooves together in salute, which Trailblazer returned with a nod.

"Don't worry about the formalities, Chief. I'm just glad you ponies were in the area. What are you offloading?"

"Medical, mostly. The Dreaming's got a well trained crew, but they're not equipped for these numbers of injuries. The desperate cases have already been airlifted back home, but we don’t have enough planes to evacuate the rest. Leaving them onboard looks to be the best compromise for everypony."

Trailblazer nodded again and the crewpony retreated back to the flight deck, leaving the FOALs in peace. He pulled off his helmet, stowing it behind the elastic mesh panels that lined the cargo bay. The rest of the chamber was empty, a cavernous space studded with equipment tie-down points and roofed with storage lockers. The three FOALs were lying along one wall, attached to the aircraft floor by wide, padded straps.

Leaning forward against his restraints, Trailblazer studied Nightstorm. His mage always over-exerted herself on these kinds of missions, but it normally didn't take more than a day or two for the mare to be back in fighting shape. He wasn't sure if it was the gentle swaying of the aircraft as it powered away from the Dreaming, but she looked distinctly ill.

"How are you feeling, Night?"

Nightstorm swallowed heavily and opened her eyes. "Pretty good, all things considered. It only hurts when I move. Don't worry, I'll be fine tomorrow." Her eyes glazed over and her breathing accelerated and became shallow. "Oh crap; get these straps off of me!" Her head came around and she tried to open the quick release with her teeth, but panic made her clumsy. With the expertise borne of long practice, Trailblazer knocked her muzzle out of the way, stabbing the trigger with a hoof.

The harness popped loose, retracting into the wall, and the mare sprang to her hooves, throat already working. At a near gallop, she charged across the aircraft, almost diving into the afterthought of a toilet stall the sometime troop carrier was equipped with. Trailblazer's ears flattened in sympathy as she was noisily sick, glancing sideways at the sleeping form of Blevie. Not a twitch, he thought, how did one so young get a soldier's reflexes so quickly?

Releasing his own straps -- the things were supposed to be worn at all times on a military craft, but were hardly necessary right now, especially for a pegasus -- he walked slowly over to the stall, waiting for Night to finish. "Better?" he asked when she backed clumsily out of the stall. She didn't look better; with fur matted with sweat and ears drooping, Night looked like she was in the throes of a particularly unpleasant tropical disease. Trailblazer kept his voice neutral; if there was one thing that Night hated, it was pity.

"Top of the world," she said hollowly, refusing to look him in the eye as she slowly walked past.

Like Tartarus you are, he thought. "Right. Wait here."

"I don't want any special treatment--" Night said hotly, a trace of fire in her voice, breaking off with a queasy sounding moan.

"You aren't going to get any. Stay there, that's an order." Trailblazer stamped off towards the flight deck, his voice fading from a sergeant's bark to an irritated grumble. "Stupid, stubborn Celestia-damned idiot unicorn." He nosed open the forward hatch, looking into the compact space beyond.

Like just about any vehicle that used aerodynamics rather than a pure vectored thrust/levitator design, the cargo transport was best flown by a pegasus -- there were controls suited for the other clades, but even a unicorn would have trouble without lots of practice. You just couldn't beat a pilot who was born with wings. The pegasus in question was strapped into the control bay, wings outstretched and locked into the flight systems armature that linked directly to the aircraft's own wings. To Trailblazer's untrained eye it looked a bit like something you might find in a hospital... or a dungeon.

The pilot, a lilac mare with tightly braided copper-coloured mane and tail, lifted her head and raised an ear at Trailblazer's intrusion into her domain. "Problem? I thought you ponies would be using the time to catch up on your sleep, after all you've been through..." He muzzle twisted into a grin and she bit her lips, as if she was trying to hold something in.

Here it comes, Trailblazer thought, I wonder which one this time...?

"...after all, I always thought foals needed a lot of sleep!" The pilot delivered the line like a comedian to a packed theatre.

...and there it is. Trailblazer rolled his eyes. "We do, and if we don't get it, we get very cranky. Listen, I've got a sick pony back here and the lack of windows isn't doing her any good. Mind if I crack open the side door of this mareplane?"

The pilot grinned, then winced. "One of my colts was like that; I wouldn't have thought it possible, but he suffers from airsickness. The time it took me to get the mess out of my feathers, you-- ah, sorry. Yes, go ahead, so long as you are all strapped in. Want me to wake the crew chief?" She nodded at the earth pony, currently asleep in the unused co-pilot's bay.

"No, I'll be fine. Thanks."

"No problem, Captain. Use the port side -- ETA to the Express is about thirty minutes. You might want to take a window seat yourself; it's going to be quite a sight."

"Will do." Trailblazer backed out of the flight deck and returned to Night, who was standing there on slightly splayed hooves. The mare had a fixed expression on her face, the look of a pony concentrating on something as hard as possible. He pulled out a pair of the mobile crew harnesses, locking one around Night and the other around himself, then attached both to the rail system running along the roof. A nudge had Night seated by the port door, which Trailblazer quickly wound open a few metres.

Brilliant sunshine and a flood of chilly air rushed into the compartment, ruffling the ponies manes and tails and driving away any thoughts of sleep. The view was breathtaking and, even though he'd spent a good part of his life in the clouds, Trailblazer never got tired of it.

Out in the blue depths were ramparts of clouds, the kind any right-thinking pegasus would love to gallop and fly over, great masses of cottony soft, ever-changing landscape that was denied to all the other clades. Even a unicorn cloud-walking spell didn't do it justice; those poor ponies were forever trapped on what they could reach by hoof, machine or spell.

Over the roar of the slipstream he heard Nightstorm sigh and take deep breaths. She had her eyes slitted against the wind, but Trailblazer could already see that she looked better, and certainly less likely to throw up without warning.

"Thank you," Night mouthed, completely inaudible over the rushing roar.

Trailblazer nodded, then twitched an ear in greeting to Blevie, who had moved from her original position and had sprawled on his other side. Together, the three ponies looked out onto the cloudscape as the transport flew on.

Comments

[Cedric Bale]

So, was Blevie there when the bar went nuts, or did she just hear about it later? Is she immune to the Discordian memetic disease?

[ascendant]

9735160
Blevie is a well-trained and diligent agent of the crown. As directed by Luna's flawless foresight and planning, she always remembers to wear her next-generation plot armor in situations where her harm might prove inconvenient.

[Luna-tic Scientist]

9735160
9745631
Plot armour is always a good idea. After all, you have to protect your ass somehow.

Things are rarely straightforward in epidemiology. Rates of transmission will vary depending on the individual exposed, the environment, the proximity and the duration of exposure. Locked in a small cell, with the prime carrier, right next to Discord's base of power is going to be much more risky than in a larger space where a person can get some distance. If the 'disease' was completely effective at transmission, the whole airship would be infected within hours and there would be no escape for anypony. At which point the Dreaming would not be allowed to make landfall, assuming the crew didn't trash it first.

To answer the original question: Blevie is not immune, and things are complicated.

[Cedric Bale]

9748052
I was assuming it didn't function like a mundane, physical-based disease at all, but rather was purely magical and transmitted exclusively through information exchange, such that it could even transmit through a phone call. If it's a physical virus or some such that carries and induces a magical effect, or at the least relies on some physical interaction to transmit, that's actually far less dangerous than I'd been assuming. Still super dangerous—it's biological warfare for crying out loud!—but at least more manageable.

[Luna-tic Scientist]

9748136
Yeah, that would make for a much shorter story! Did you ever watch 'Dollhouse'? Mind editing tech that went from lab full of tech to mind transfers via a standard phone call. in the space of a few episodes. Things go downhill very quickly.

You can think of it like a super influential meme. Experiencing/being near an individual with it tend to change your own behaviour, and a group of 'infected' reinforce the effect, between themselves and any uninfected nearby. It does need proximity, though, for the magical component.

[IceHawk]

Well this is by far the most frightening iteration of discord's magic I've seen.