//------------------------------// // Chapter 3 // Story: The Thirteen // by Wheller //------------------------------// Three It was, of course, on that first day at sea where Redheart had met the other members of their Brigade. Of course, they were hardly a brigade, as they were only thirteen in number. Redheart didn’t know exactly what this made them, but in name they were still titled the XIII International Brigade/Equestria, or less formally. ‘The Lucky Thirteen.’ It had proved to be terribly ironic, because the Brigade had not been named the XIIIth in the expectation that only thirteen volunteers actually showed up. (Redheart later learned that Dieter had gotten quite the chewing out for coming back with so few of them, but Redheart and the others all knew that Dieter had done the best he could. The likelihood of getting any more had been exceedingly low. Dieter had even spent a month longer than he was supposed to in Equestria and managed to only get one recruit in that time. Redheart herself.) Redheart had taken a seat in the ship’s mess. It was playing host to the new brigade, allowing them all to meet. There was, of course, Vinyl Scratch. Redheart had attempted to ask her what brought her into the Brigade, but Vinyl had repeatedly dodged the question. It didn’t take her too long to figure out that Vinyl was simply not going to tell her, and did not push further. The second of their number, was Lily, a bubble gum pink earth pony with a blond mane and tail with three daylilies as a cutie mark. She’d been a florist from a little town from the north called Meadows Glen, and had been moved by Dieter’s skill at oratory. She wasn’t particularly bright, but what she lacked in sense. She made up for with mettle. The third was Valkov, he was a grey coated earth pony with a black mane and cropped short tail. Sporting a cutie mark of a bottle rocket. He made fireworks, which, translated directly into a skill with explosives. He was quite the thrower, and could throw a grenade with otherworldly precision. The fourth was Winterfel, a snow white unicorn mare from the north, sporting an icy blue mane with short curls. She hated summer weather, and it wasn’t clear if anyone had let her know that Espanya was temperate all year-round. Nevertheless, she had never once complained, even when it was clear she was uncomfortable. Their fifth member was a bright orange pegasus pony by the name of Fireblast, with a swept back ginger mane. He was a show-off, a braggart, and a compulsive liar. Redheart had taken an immediate dislike to him. He'd joined up because no one in Equestria could stand to be around him. She couldn’t imagine why. Their sixth member was a demure unicorn mare, the youngest of the group, dark blue mane and tail, matched against a light blue coat with a single water drop for a cutie mark. Misty, the quietest of the bunch, rarely spoke with more than a few words. She had admitted to Redheart that she was afraid of being outside, and around others, and had considered herself a waste of space at home. She’d joined up to make herself useful, and get over her uselessness, hoping that the experience would let her become a productive member of society. The seventh was a grey earth pony mare, who could have easily been mistaken for Valkov if you weren’t paying attention. Dusty was another pony that Redheart was determined to avoid. She was extreme in her negativity, with an antisocial personality. Vinyl Scratch may have been a nut case, but Dusty was downright malevolent. She seemed to be into violence for the sake of it. Making her the most anti-Equestrian case Redheart had ever seen. This usually made for a bad soldier, but Dieter, of course, had been desperate. Number eight was an amber red pegasus who didn’t talk to anypony. Though as it turned out, that wasn’t exactly his fault. The truth of the matter was; he didn’t talk because he couldn’t. Redheart discovered that he’d been born without a tongue. It did make for an awkward situation though, because of his lack of ability to speak, they were unable to learn his name. And so stuck to the, rather uninspired nickname, ‘Red.’ Nine, ten, and eleven, were a set of identical triplets. Each one canary yellow with a forest green mane and tail. They were unicorn mares whom Redheart could not for the life of her keep straight. They didn’t expect anypony to either, fortunately. Starlight, Starbright, and Moonlight’s parents had been expecting twins, and as such had to come up with a name for the third daughter, leaving Moonlight (Whichever one she was) having been arbitrarily picked for a name which didn’t quite match. Number Twelve was the one Redheart knew the least. He was a grey coated Earth Pony, with an orange mane and short tail. With soft orange eyes and a friendly look on his face, was Monty Ulan. He was a kind enough pony, a bit mysterious. He claimed to be a trader from Fillydelphia, but was unable to recall any important details on the city. Though by this point, Redheart had come to expect that she wouldn’t get the exact truth out of everyone. In a way, they were all misfits, and she could hardly blame them for having pasts they wanted to avoid. That of course, left number thirteen, Nurse Redheart herself. The end of their first day at sea had come, and they were pared up for their room assignments. She had gotten Vinyl Scratch. ‘Dibs on the top bunk,’ Vinyl said as she tossed her bag onto it with her telekinesis, and hopped up onto it. Redheart had not minded, of course, and let her have it. She set her own bag on her bunk and looked up at the mare. ‘So… I suppose we’re going to get to know each other quite well in these circumstances,’ Redheart had commented. ‘Yep,’ Vinyl said without any sort of commitment. ‘So… where are you from Vinyl?’ she asked. Hoping that the mare would open up a bit to her, despite her refusing to do so at dinner. ‘Eh, all over really,’ she said. ‘Don’t think I ever spent more than a year in one place as a foal. Pops was a deadbeat who couldn’t be bothered to stay sober long enough to hold a steady job. Mum was a moron who ignored it. One day, they decided to move again and I’d said no, that I wasn’t going to. I ran off, and spent the next several months on the streets of Manehattan, where they couldn’t find me. They didn’t even look for me, as it turned out.’ Redheart was taken aback by this. She couldn’t imagine anyone actually behaving in this manner. Abandoning their own child? That was monstrous. She’d had no idea that somepony could be so self-centred. ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ she said after a few moments. Vinyl merely wrinkled her nose. ‘It’s okay, it’s not like I’m bitter about it or anything.’ Vinyl was extremely bitter about it. ‘Is that why you joined up?’ Redheart asked, cautiously. ‘No,’ Vinyl said with a grumble. ‘I haven’t even thought about those assholes in years—not until you brought the subject up.’ Redheart had not brought the subject of Vinyl’s parents up, of course, but she figured that pointing this out was not likely to do her any good. ‘I’m sorry,’ she apologised at once. Vinyl’s grin returned. ‘It’s alright. You’re just trying to be friendly, water under the bridge.’ As simply as that, it was almost as if Vinyl had completely forgotten that she’d been upset about recalling her foalhood. This warning sign was one Redheart did not ignore. Rapid changes in mood were never a good sign. ‘So, why did you join up?’ she asked. ‘Going to ask that again, are you?’ Vinyl said, her grin fading. ‘Fine. If you really want to know? I’ll tell you. I’m running away from my problems at home.’ ‘By going to war?’ Redheart asked. Vinyl grinned. ‘I never claimed to be a smart pony.’ ——— ‘Did you hear what I said? Nurse Redheart? Nurse Redheart!’ Redheart suddenly snapped to awareness, and found herself standing in the centre of the waiting room of Doctor Nightly’s clinic. She didn’t remember coming inside, she must have gotten lost in her thoughts and let her body run on autopilot. It had been a useful skill that she’d picked up during the War. Menial work, such as scrubbing the Jaime’s bulkheads, had been made simple by letting her shut off her conscious mind to it, and just letting herself do it while her mind was off in other places. It occasionally happened here too, but almost never by choice, and usually never like this. She turned to look and found Doctor Nightly standing there, with a frown on his face. The unicorn stallion was looking back at her with his bright amber eyes, that almost seemed to glow in the low light of the waiting room. She could hardly see him, only his eyes popping out from his pitch black coat and mane. It was an unusual colouration for a pony, pitch black on pitch black. A recessive trait, he’d mentioned to her once. ‘I’m sorry Doctor, what was it that you needed me to do?’ she asked. Doctor Nightly looked annoyed. Redheart figured he’d probably talked to her for several minutes before he realised that she wasn’t all there. Redheart looked sheepishly at him. ‘Please take these forms to the copyist. I need six of each made up,’ Doctor Nightly said shortly. Redheart nodded and took the folder of forms. ‘I will get it taken care of,’ she said. ‘See that you do. Try not to take too long. Tenderheart is out today, so I’ll need you back to pick up the slack.’ Redheart nodded her head, wrapped her scarf back around her neck, despite not remembering ever taking it off, she had, and walked out the door back onto the cold streets of Ponyville. Doctor Nightly’s words were empty, of course. She had no control over how fast the copyist worked, and Doctor Nightly knew it. He had just gotten annoyed when Redheart would get lost in her own little world. She could hardly blame him in that regard. The cold air chilled her as she went outside. Ponies were out and about, having started their days. Redheart hardly noticed any of them. She was too busy checking the thatched roofs of Ponyville’s buildings, and any second story window for the unmistakable glint of light reflecting of a sharpshooter’s targeting goggles. She knew it was silly, she knew there weren’t any there, but she did it out of force of habit, and she rarely even realised that she was doing it. The only reason she’d become aware of it today was because of the dropped pot from earlier this morning, and choosing not to do it made her anxious. It bothered her how much of a slave she’d become to her automatic habits, but the fact of the matter was, she didn’t have a clue what to do about them. Her stomach gave her a low rumble. She had forgotten to eat breakfast; her day having been thrown off by that stupid dropped pot. She could really go for a Sweet Apple Acres apple right about now. Which was unfortunate. They were out of season, and finding a fresh one would be— ——— —impossible. Or so she had thought, but there he was. Monty Ulan, sitting in his bunk, quietly nibbling on an apple. She was shocked, to say the least. It looked fresh, it smelled fresh. It couldn’t be though; they were out of season. Monty looked up, realising that Redheart was staring at him, and gave her a cautious smile. ‘Hello Nurse, is there something I can do for you?’ he asked. ‘That, is an apple,’ Redheart said. ‘Where did you get it?’ ‘I brought it with me,’ Monty said simply. ‘There was this orchard in this quaint little town I passed through, Sweet Apple Acres, I believe—’ That was a lie. Redheart was from Ponyville, and she knew for a fact that he was eating an Ida Red apple. Apples of this cultivar were not available in Sweet Apple Acres until October. Ponyville existed on the apple trade, and even if you didn’t want to, just living in the town was enough to get to know more than you could ever want to about the fruit. There was no possible way for him to have that Apple. Yet, he did. ‘You’re lying,’ Redheart accused him. He was taken aback by her accusation. ‘I—’ ‘I’m from Ponyville. Ponyville exists because of apples. Everything in Ponyville is about apples, that cultivar you’re eating? You can’t get it until October. It’s July,’ she explained. ‘It’s an apple though, why lie about it?’ Monty frowned at her and looked down at the apple. ‘Betrayed by an apple—I can hardly believe it.’ He rose to his hooves and looked at her. ‘Would you believe me if I told you this Apple is sixty years old?’ ‘No,’ Redheart said simply. Impossible, apples couldn’t keep more than a few weeks. Years? That was insanity. Or was it? Catching Monty for lying didn’t explain where the apple came from. ‘I could explain fully, but I doubt you’d believe me,’ Monty said. ‘You can try...’ ——— She hated when that happened. A flash of a memory, brought about by sensations. Redheart stopped and shook her head. She needed to focus on her work. She gritted her teeth and went into the copyist’s shop, putting the memory behind her and put on a pleasant smile. The copyist was an old grey unicorn, who smiled at her as she came in. ‘Good morning,’ he said. It had not been a good morning for her so far, but she smiled and agreed. ‘Good morning, I need six copies of each of these forms made up please,’ she said as she handed him the folder. The old stallion looked over the papers and nodded. ‘Of course, Nurse, I’ll have them for you in a jiffy!’ he said and took them and immediately went to work. It was a lie, of course. It had taken him an agonising four hours to make each up. Fortunately, as a unicorn he was able to make six copies at the same time, holding six quills, and six pieces of paper in the air as he copied each of the forms, line by line. Making copies was an art form. Making perfect replications of the writing, down to the signature was a drawn out process. Redheart tried not to be impatient with him, but patience was lost to her as well. Of course, she could just slip back into an old memory, but she struggled to find one worth remembering. The copyist finally finished, and handed Redheart the stack of forms. She gave him a fake smile, paying the normal rate, and made her way back to the clinic. Forgetting that she’d ever even been hungry at all.