//------------------------------// // 12. The Price // Story: Planet Hell: The Redemption of Harmony // by solocitizen //------------------------------// Planet Hell Solocitizen 12. The Price 23rd of Winter Season, 10,056 AC It was hot. Moist and persistent, it seeped into Thunder Gale on the brief trot from the Ocean View Hotel to the bar across the street. His mane matted to his neck while he stood at the intersection waiting for the bleating trucks and cars to pass. Marble’s industry was still in its infancy, and the planet hadn’t yet developed the resources or infrastructure to synthesize the exotic matter required for the mass production of dark energy. As a result, their vehicles burned petrochemicals, and belched out warm smog as they passed by. There was no shade between the street corner and the bar, and so once the traffic lulled he moved quickly over the asphalt and up to the door. Cool jets of air greeted him once inside and brushed away any lingering flies. Strands of Hearth’s Warming Eve lights draped from a terrace along the back wall and holograms scattered above the bar lit the room. An earth pony the color of brandy stood behind the bar, clenching a bug zapper wand in his mouth and waving it as if to cast a spell on the lone fly hovering over the glasses. The griffon from the day before—the one who had delivered Hill Born’s message to Thunder Gale—sat at the bar speaking to its tender as much in gestures of his tail and claws as did in words. He filled the room with an easy laugh. Do what you came here to do and get out, he reminded himself as he marched up to the bar. He tried to wipe off some of the sweat rolling down the side of his face, but his already soaked leg left more behind than it removed. “There you are!” The griffon put one of his hind legs on the bar stool beside him and shoved it out for Thunder Gale. “Take a load off and have a cerveza. It’s on me.” Thunder Gale looked at the griffon, the barstool, and the cerveza the bartender was setting out up and down. He sat down on the stool and crossed his front legs as if to guard his chest. “No, thanks.” Thunder Gale waved the bottle away. “Water’s fine.” The bartender nodded, and fetched him a pitcher and a glass. “What, cervezas not good enough for you?” the griffon asked. “Oh, wait, don’t tell me. You’re always on duty.” He laughed again. “No, I’m thirsty.” He gulped down the entire glass and signaled the bartender for more. “Alcohol doesn’t hydrate the body, it just makes dehydration worse. I’m a marine, we like to drink, just not in this weather and not in the middle of the day.” The griffon put away his laughter and cleared his throat. “I was just yanking your chain a bit,” he said. “I meant no harm by it. The name’s Gerard, by the way.” He held out a claw. “Let me try and start things off on the right foot—or I guess in your case hoof—by apologizing for being so rude with you the other day. When I saw your ship in orbit I mistook you for a marine, but the brief my client provided said otherwise.” “That’s fine.” Thunder Gale hunched over his glass. “Let’s just get down to business.” “Okay, you’re the boss.” Gerard adopted the same defensive hunch and spoke much quieter after that. “If you want to go to Azrael, it’s going to cost you a lot.” “No FTL jump is cheap but I assure you, whatever your price is, I can pay it. I have means.” Gerard turned to him and pointed at the holovid casting red and blues over the bar and snatched up the remote from its hiding place behind the counter. An earth pony, as square and solid as the podium he was stationed behind, spoke to an assembly rendered in three dimensions. He stood before a flag of red and blue. Thunder Gale recognized his face, but he couldn’t put a name to it until he spotted the words at the bottom edge of the picture: "High Chancellor Sir Earl Gray of the Earth Pony Defense Coalition." Thunder Gale heard a speech of his, once, and remembered that while he spoke plainly, he commanded as much presence as his father did. “You say that, but—” Gerard sighed—“well, you’ll see. Aside from your package, I got to deliver this message to the Prime Minister of marble.” Gerard turned up the volume and poured the foam at the bottom of his cerveza down his gullet. “They’ve been playing it nearly non-stop.” “We have just received word that the Pegasus Tribe, by a remarkable combination of orbital bombardment and powered infantry, have lain waste to the defenders in the Sirius and Arcadian systems and are now ravaging the rural and urban sectors uncontested. Even in this dark hour we must not allow ourselves to succumb to intimidation. As I speak, task forces from the fifth and sixth fleets are preparing to engage the pegasi forces and break their stranglehold over the systems…” Gerard hit the mute button and turned back to his drink, only to pick it up and realize it was already empty. “What does that have to do with getting to Azrael?” Thunder Gale raised an eyebrow. “Okay, so it’s like this,” said Gerard. “The Interplanetary Express maintains a good, working relationship with all the galactic powers. That said, I can’t jump into a warzone because they tend to forget that while they’re, you know, blowing each other out of the sky.” “And?” “And Arcadia was the only major hub along the route to the Azrael system.” He grabbed the cerveza the bartender had set out for Thunder Gale and popped the cap off with a talon. “We’re not a taxi service, you don’t get to tell us where to go. I tell you if I’m heading in your direction, and if I like, you get to hitch a ride for a heavy fee. Anyway, we can’t go to Azrael because without making a stop at Arcadia, there isn’t any profit in it. “I know that’s not what you want to hear, but you can also look at this as an opportunity. I don’t know much about you, but you have a ship full of ponies that all cherish you like you’re the prince of their tribe. Think of all the good you can do out there—or right here, even—with that kind of dedication.” Thunder Gale gulped down more water. Just four days ago, the prime minister of The Marble Planetary Government had given Thunder Gale five hundred million coalition bills: enough money to upgrade and restock their ship and supplies, or hell, maybe even buy another ship. The Prime Minister awarded it to them in the hope that they’d use it to settle down on Marble, and Thunder Gale knew many of his crew wanted to do just that. Including Breeze Heart. He stared into his water glass and watched the blue and red cast from the hologram behind him blend into purple. It hurt, but he asked what he had to. He looked up at Gerard and asked, “Would five hundred million be enough?” Gerard coughed and covered his beak with a talon to keep the beer in his mouth. Swallowed, coughed, and shook his head. “You’re serious about going to Azrael, aren’t you?” He asked. “Look, I’m real sorry, but you’re a little short. If you can raise ten million more, I can make a profit and justify the whole thing to my bosses.” “I’ll pay you the extra ten once we get to Azrael III.” Thunder Gale tapped his rear hoof on the bar stool, but then noticed what he was doing and stopped. “Now can you do it, or not?” Gerard glanced over at the bar and to the hologram showing Earl Grey’s speech, and then stared into the floor. “Can you do it?” Thunder Gale repeated. “I mean, what do you want to go over there for, anyway? I know that Marble doesn’t seem like much, but it’s growing. The ponies here are super serious about making the transition from fossil fuel to dark energy, and once they do they want to build these underwater cities. Right now, the little bit of dry land on the planet is dirt cheap, and a paradise. Have you heard about the replica of Ponyville they’ve made?” Thunder Gale gulped down the rest of his water and signaled the bartender for his tab. Once the earth pony brought him a datapad he traced his hoof over it to sign. “I’m going to Azrael,” he said. “All I need is a pilot, and if you’re not willing to do it, I’ll just have to find somepony else.” “You can relax.” Gerard sighed. “If you can pay even half up-front, I’m obligated to take your money. Just answer me this, what’s at Azrael? It’s a fair question considering how dangerous that side of known space is.” “I’m looking for somepony.” “The guy who sent you the disk?” Thunder Gale glanced over his shoulders: the bartender was busy behind a swing door to a back office and there was no pony else in the establishment. “Yes!” Thunder Gale hissed at him sideways and head low. “I can’t say much, but the pony who sent me that recording had information about my father. If I do this, I get to go home. And so does my crew.” Gerard stared at his beer and fiddled at the wisp of hair at the end of his tail. “What?” Thunder Gale asked. “What answer did you want from me?” Gerard didn’t answer. Thunder Gale continued on course out the door and gave no more than a flick of his tail, but before he pushed it open, and ventured out from the sterile air conditioning and into the broiling smog, Gerard called out. “Wait,” he said. “I’ll do it.” As Thunder let the door sink back into place and shut out the sun, a flare of purple from the holovid filled the bar. It cast Gerard’s face in shadow and showed the emblem of the Marble News Network, then switched back to Earl Grey on the podium repeating the message. “I lost my home too,” He looked up and straight into Thunder. “I barely remember my village, except for a vague memory of the cliff side and the sea, but I still remember the sky--the three moons and the rings that glimmered at night. I could retire tomorrow if I wanted to, live out the rest of my days here on my considerable savings, but I know that as precious as Marble is, it wouldn’t satisfy me. The sky isn’t right. The Ursa Major will be prepped and ready to begin accelerating to jump speed in thirty-six hours, does that give you enough time?” “I’ll inform my crew and call them back from shore leave.” Thunder Gale pushed the door open and put a hoof out on the concrete. “We’ll be ready. And one more thing?” “What?” “Is it worth it?” Thunder Gale turned back to Gerard, who was now hunched over his beer and glancing up at him. “Paying that price?” “To go home? To find your father again? It’s worth every bit you can pay and more. You’re getting a bargain.” “Then why do I feel like it’s so wrong?” “I don’t know. Just make sure you’re ready to leave in thirty-six hours.” Without saying any more, Thunder Gale trotted out the door and went to tell his crew that their rest on Marble was being cut short.