//------------------------------//
// Chapter 1: Amerigo 
// Story: The Legacy of The Shattered Dream 
// by Natomon01 
//------------------------------//

-Chapter 1: Amerigo-


****** Nothing Human ******


-Almost Three Weeks Prior-

Peace. It hung in the air like it was simply masking reality. The same sort of effect as though you were simply covering your ears. Of course, reality had a sense of humor. Every other aspect of existence seemed enhanced now, as Charlie could hear all the way down to the other end of the catwalk. Someone was snoring. Not just snoring, but practically playing a trumpet. 
“Probably one of the griffins.” Charlie mused. 
Each one of them snored at a different pitch. So distinct a tone was it that he could usually tell who it was. Not now, though. The endless vibrations had ceased and the only sound, aside from his sleeping, comrades was the whistle of the Black-Mountain wind. It almost willed anyone who heard it to sleep. Everything sounded different now; even pitch! Charlie couldn’t lay under the covers trying to sleep himself any longer.
He pushed back the bedspread and gasped as the cold air hit him in force. He braced himself further for the customary headache that was the result of his decision to imbibe so close to bed. It didn’t seem so bad this time. Probably because he’d chosen to drink less. Could it be possible he was getting tired of cider after drinking it for the last nine or ten evenings? He checked his face for stubble and was pleased to feel that the tonic he’d been using was still inhibiting the growth of the unwanted facial scruff. Next he searched for a strap to tie back his mane. “Mane.” Now there was an apt description. He’d eventually given up explaining to practically every one of his equine colleagues that humans, like himself, didn’t tend to use the term “mane.” It was just hair. Eventually deciding that it didn’t really matter he’d started referring to it the same way. Yet, considering its largely unchecked growth, a mane was essentially what it had become. He groaned, thinking about how the ship’s stewardess would eventually force him to sit still while she would fuss over the light brown mess with her strange smelling soaps and tonics in order to turn it into something she deemed “presentable.”
Charlie settled on a gold-trimmed red-canvas strap to tie the unruly mess into a ponytail that dangled as far down as the small of his back. Throwing on a vest and then wrapping a blanket around himself he made his way to the small stove over in the corner of his stateroom. With luck he wouldn’t have to work that hard get the fire burning again. From that, “hot water,” and from that, “tea!” Almost as warming and soothing as wassail.
“Wassail. Why not! It’s cold enough. Who cares if it’s the wrong time of year!” He thought.
After fiddling with the coals and carefully adding a few scraps of paper the interior of the stove came to life with the usual hissing, crackling, and orange flicker. Despite the fact that the converted black kettle did in fact do the job of heating the stateroom it was only a way of sidestepping the real problem. As he began adding together the ingredients of his spur-of-the-moment special beverage, Charlie glanced longingly at the steam radiator that normally supplied the much-needed heat. It was dead. The entire ship felt dead and empty.
Since he and his crew had set their airship down on a mist laden plateau, after a rather unexpected turn of events affecting their source of power, there had hardly been anything to occupy their time. There was no way to get any work done here. Even the wide area beneath the ship was too rocky and overgrown with shrubbery to even consider any kind of organized sport. Charlie and Crack, his first officer, had felt there was no choice but to simply keep the recreation lamp burning, and in the new atmosphere of boredom, debauchery seemed to have set in more quickly than even the two of them had thought. As a result, the Amerigo’s ship’s stores had seen a drastic reduction in casks of cider and mead. No serious reports of downright moronic behavior as of yet, though. However, scuttlebutt had it that gambling was gaining popularity again. Some of the crew seemed inclined to do little else but huddle around the various makeshift stoves, eat, drink, gamble, sleep, and repeat.
Even as Captain, or so his title was, Charlie wasn’t completely immune from the increasingly lethargic and somewhat despondent feeling that had taken hold over the crew. He’d taken to strategizing sports plays, reading his few surviving novels over again, picking up one of his instruments for the first time in years, and most unexpectedly writing poetry. Years prior he never would have seen himself doing such a thing, but now his desk was littered with the drafts that had failed to live up to his expectations for lyrical art. Most of them were only based off of old songs anyways. Hardly original work, but a good place to start. Yet they all ended the same; with longing for what he knew he would likely never see again. Home. 
Home was literally a world away. Maybe even further for all Charlie knew. A place that only seemed like a fantasy now. A strange reversal from his initial thoughts on the place he’d initially been introduced to as a thirteen-year-old. Fate had been cruel, dangling a seemingly delicious and consequence-free escape in front of him. All just literally over the rainbow. So close and yet so far from reality, but the storybook pictures that had closed in around him soon thereafter had made the fantasy too real. He winced as a flood of memories all interspersed with guilt and grief nearly consumed him right then and there. Only for a moment, though. He reminded himself that he couldn’t afford the luxury of dwelling on those other things at the moment, but they was all his fault, though. Right?
Reality had faded. Home seemed the true fantasy now. Back there he had been known as Charlie Philips within the civilized society that had produced him, but now he was an alien. Not just an alien being, but somehow his very nature was so different, and some believed toxic, that he would best keep to himself to avoid either a quick death or perhaps worse; a long life at someone else’s discretion. Humans were simply not welcome here. Was that his fault too? It could be.
The forlorn captain of the airship Amerigo surveyed the small pile of hard cider casks that he’d piled up under his stateroom’s panoramic window. They were up to five. One typically lasted for two nights. Last night’s still had a good bit left in the bottom, though. 
“Just enough for a trotter or two full of delicious spiced wassail!” He thought licking his lips.
His thoughts were interrupted as a loud metallic thud issued from the other side of the stateroom door. Initially he rolled his eyes in annoyance but thought better of it. Any interruption to the routine ought to be a welcome one. It might even be the news he wanted to hear; that they could finally leave the god-forsaken mountainside and get back to work.
“Come in” he said in his most cheerful and energetic voice. “And in the future please remember that it’s a door not a drum-head” he added wryly.
The door slid open to reveal Crack, a black crested Shore-Nation griffon and the Amerigo’s first officer. Behind him entered Turner. The aptly named blue unicorn stallion was not only chief navigator and an excellent helmsman but also held the position of second officer.
“Sorry about that” Crack apologized shaking his head. “I’m not used to things being this quiet.”
“My shoes don’t feel right” added Turner. “I’m too used to feeling the transmission shafts through the deck.”
Charlie couldn’t help but smile at his two closest friends as he ladled out three mugs of warm-spicy hard cider and pushed two of them across the room’s center table as he made an addition of his own to the conversation.
“And I can’t leave the primary section of the ship. Too many Greeners.”
By this Charlie meant recent additions to the crew. Due to the secretive nature of the Amerigo’s origin and an even more sensitive knowledge concerning its captain, it was rare that the crew would be supplemented with new members. A few years prior Charlie, Crack, and Turner had agreed on a lengthy vetting process for incorporating new members into the fold. This included initial profiling based on their culture, information that could be gathered from those who might know them, and additional observation after they were taken in. This was further supplemented by a graduated level of privilege when it came to how much they were allowed to know about the vessel they crewed or its captain. Yet, there also was an unwritten metric for trust that was gauged by how eager they were to burn their bridges with old ways of life. Something that Charlie and his two most senior officers, and friends, knew all too well.
Crack shrugged at Charlie’s reference to the new recruits being incorporated into the crew.
“Actually. They're working out pretty well. I'd say that we could give them a final interview and then reveal the final details soon, but today I sent them down to the foothills to start breaking down the trading post.” His beak widened with a grin before it disappeared in his mug.
Charlie sat forward as the corners of his mouth tugged themselves slightly upward.
“Does this mean what I think it does?” 
“From what Kearn is forecasting the element heat rejection should be complete by tonight!” Turner happily reported as he plunged his muzzle into his own drink for a moment before continuing. “It’s not anything official of course, but you know Kearn. That zebra’s never wrong! We could be in the air as early as tomorrow morning.”
Crack rolled his eyes before he spoke again.
“I don’t know about that, but I’d say we could get the Assembly turning again in the morning. We’ll at least get some heat and light. And above all else-”
“The blessed and comforting noise!” Turner interrupted.
Crack scowled at the interruption before continuing.
“I was going to say that we’ll get the printing presses back. We can also get back to the survey we were doing of the north face before Element Primary started overheating.”
Charlie sighed in relief and lifted his own mug to his lips but he paused and thought better of his choice to consume alcohol. He also considered what the crew would need to do the following morning. He set his sweet smelling escape down and turned to set his teapot on the corner stove.
”Thanks for some good news.” He said as he straightened his back with newfound confidence and turned back to face his two friends. “Enjoy those drinks. They’ll be your last ones for a while. Make sure you relay that to everyone else when Kearn makes his judgement official.”
Crack nodded, but Turner scowled with disappointment as Charlie continued.
“So where exactly did cartography leave us before we had to set down? Can we still make our deadlines?”
Turner cocked his head to the side for a moment as he thought.
“I’d say we’ll definitely make the production quos before we reach the Imperial Capital. Stone Nation ought to be pleased. I wouldn’t count on the Ice Nation receiving their order. The passes have probably frozen, but we might be able to pay some Stone-Nation couriers.” He paused and took another drink. “I don’t think we’ll make the bonus deadline for the royal orders, though. Unless we can find a zebra captain who’s crazy enough to sail around the Southern Horn this late in the summer. We can expect to get it there in a month by pegasus courier over the passes. If they can manage that they’ll be able to get it the rest of the way overland by earth courier.  But…” He paused  “that’s only if we finish the survey we had to cut short ... in about a day.” 
Crack shrugged and Charlie nodded understandingly, but Turner wasn’t finished.
“The trouble is that right now the latitude measurements and longitudinal calculations aren’t adding up. So we’ll probably have to retrace our position just to make sure.”
“How far off are we talking here?” Charlie asked incredulously; not really wanting to know the answer.
“One… maybe two… miles.”
“Miles?!” Charlie exclaimed in near disbelief. “How did it become miles?!”
“Because my algorithms got plugged into the difference engine-“
“And the transmission disconnected when we started having trouble.” Charlie finished the sentence. “Why didn’t you continue without the machine? We did function just fine before we built Mr. Babbage’s nightmare, or have you forgotten how to use your abacus?”
“I can add just fine” Turner shot back. “But the punch card is stuck. It’s because I tried to carry on without it that I got so muddled.”
“Ok. Fine.” Charlie waved his hand dismissively. “Just get us back where we started, and tell Penny to get her rump in gear. I want the type set for the navigation tabless before you’re done with your numbers. We can add them at the last minute.”
“You’ll get it” Crack added. “As long as you stop calling her Penny.”
“Come on!” Charlie laughed. “Are we really going to get back into that now. I thought she was over the whole nick-name chagrin.”
“Oh I think she was just too distracted to care until the events of the past week, or rather lack thereof. I’ve recently discovered that she’s one of those complaining drunks.”
Charlie grinned as he pushed back from the table and stood.
“Well I know the perfect solution.”
“Oh?” Crack raised an eyebrow.
“Yes. Here’s my first order since we took this ‘delightful’ little detour. I want you to extinguish the rec lamp. Right now! And tell the cooks to start serving some real food too. Not that fried junk! I mean some real ballast; fruits, veggies, and hot cereal first thing tomorrow. I-”
The griffon and the unicorn both stared at their human friend as they waited for him to finish.
“You what?” inquired Turner.
“Sorry I… I just really sounded like my old man there for a second. Sorry.”
“So… yes? No…?”
“Yes. Definitely yes! Just start by removing the booze today, and then get everyone to sleep in the next few hours. If Kearn’s right we’ll need them all up, and sober, in order to get the platform started again.”
“Here! Here!” Turner said stomping his hooves on the deck.
“It’ll be good to bring this place back to life!” Crack added.
All three faced each other; each not wanting to be the one to break up the social gathering between them. While it was becoming an increasingly rare occurrence for them to simply meet together as friends, all three knew that they hadn’t earned the opportunity as they usually did. Charlie spoke first, as commanding officer.
“Let’s get back to work.”
Both of his friends turned to leave as Charlie turned his attention back to his desk. It was a mess of papers. All crumpled and covered with ink stains. He grabbed at them not really caring about his poetic musings anymore. He looked up to see Crack was standing halfway-in halfway-out of the doorway seemingly trying to decide whether or not to leave.
“What’s up Crack?” Charlie asked.
Crack looked up and looked down again before turning to face his friend.
“I want to get out of here as quickly as Turner does… and this is probably nothing…”
“I sense a ‘but’.” 
“I Didn’t want to bring this up while Turner and I were both here for fear that he might talk you out of it. Kearn also told me something about the Harmonic Assembly. I won’t pretend to be an expert like him, but it seems that he had some trouble reconciling the orientation of Element Amber.”
Charlie frowned.
“We’ve had to re-seat the elements before. Mostly after the storm season. Did Kearn elaborate?”
“Not really... no. I’m sure he’s going to give you his own opinion once we’re underway again.” Crack paused, obviously embarrassed to be discussing something which clearly wasn’t his area of expertise. “It’s just that I looked at Kearn’s logbooks and I noticed something that might be completely innocuous, but Element Primary appeared to be overheating because of a disharmonic position relative to one of the five secondaries.”
“And I’m assuming he recalibrated to make sure that it clears?” Charlie asked.
“Yes he did, but here’s where it gets strange. Too strange to be a coincidence. The other four secondary elements have all had similar problems over the ship’s lifetime but not Amber. It wasn’t until Amber had its own little hiccup that the Primary had such an adverse reaction.”
Charlie sighed audibly. Crack had been right to voice this now since Turner’s protestations might indeed have carried the day if he’d brought it up earlier. This wasn’t something that anyone wanted to hear.
“So what I’m getting from this is you believe that we have a bigger problem. Possibly a cumulative one?”
“I don’t know what to believe. It’s just that there’s never been a machine like the Amerigo anywhere in this world before. Nobody can say what the long term behavior is going to be. I just think-”
“That I should do a direct inspection.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything right now, but if this hadn’t happened I wouldn’t have brought it up till the Rainbow Falls layover. It’s always easier to do an overhaul like that when the crew can be removed from the ship.”
Charlie fought the urge to dismiss his second-in-command’s fears as unfounded, but regardless of how hard he tried he couldn’t cite a precedent where anything that Crack had ever said was unfounded. Instead he grabbed his deck jacket and moved out into the corridor motioning for Crack to follow. 
“Is Kearn still at the Hub?”
“Yeah. Probably.”
“Good let’s go join him and get this over with.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I will admit though. You’re a very inconvenient friend to have at times.”
They moved down the corridor together. It was practically deserted. Most were still engaged in their idle debauchery. The jubilant shouting from the main berthing area hinted at a wrestling match kicking off. While the drunken snores from the opposite direction pointed to the aftermath of one that must’ve gone rather badly for someone.
Presently the two approached one of the command section’s exterior doors. There were three on the upper level which lead outside of the normally heated and wind-shielded forward section. All connected to semi-enclosed catwalks that lead through the metal framework that was the Amerigo’s internal superstructure. Charlie’s ebonite-soled boots and Crack’s claws and talons made a clattering sound that invariably reverberated back toward them when it hit the outer-hull plates. They made their way down the length of the ship. They could still see the mist below them with the waning daylight as it swirled and danced across the upper portion of the hull enclosure. Likely from the heat of a stove lit within. 
Charlie paused and gestured for crack to see it.
“Look down and tell me someone’s not partying in the Ballroom.”
Crack scowled at the heat visibly rising through the exterior.
“I’d say they are” he agreed.
“Make sure that’s the first party you crash. Would you?”
Crack nodded and the two kept walking.
The “Ballroom” as it was called was actually the furthest thing from a festive gathering place. It was in fact a large glass bottomed room where surveys were conducted through the transparent floor. It did present a powerful and beautiful sight when one overcame the initial vertigo, and it had been one of Turner’s most brilliant suggestions when designing the Tertiary hull section. 
There were three enclosed sections within the Amerigo, all held together by a metal framework. The Tertiary, or "Logistical" section, which contained the, Ballroom, map-drafting and production facilities, and loading bay, almost seemed like it was an afterthought; even though what it did kept the crew fed. It was the lowest section and spanned the almost 350 foot distance between the Secondary and Primary enclosures. The Secondary, or "Command" section was located at the forward most point and contained the living quarters and ship’s navigation areas. It was connected to the Tertiary section beneath and to the Primary section directly aft via the ship’s three open-air catwalks. Finally, the Primary section was located aft of both the Secondary and Tertiary enclosures and directly within the center of gravity. All mass was suspended from this point while in flight; oddly making the Amerigo far less sturdy while supported by its landing struts on the ground. Without the primary section there would be no Amerigo, and what it contained was the reason for Charlie’s impromptu tour. 
The pair reached the ladder and Charlie began to pull himself up the rungs with ease. Crack had a more difficult time as he struggled up an adjacent one. It seemed ironic that someone who could fly had such trouble gaining altitude while in contact with a surface. Eventually they reached a large circular enclosure which Like everything else now sounded and felt different without the constant vibration and the whining drone that was the incontrovertible evidence of the sheer power contained within the heart of the Amerigo. 
Most of the crew who were even aware of that power simply referred to its container as “The Engine.” A term that was quite alien to any language spoken by the crew; considering the low level of technological development of any of the civilized races which inhabited the world. Societal development was at best comparable to early renaissance Europe in terms of any of scientific knowledge. Though, politically Charlie found himself impressed with certain enclaves he’d encountered.
He glanced around the heart of the Amerigo as he waited for Crack to finish climbing. “The Platform” as it was known on board was a half-sphere shaped enclosure roughly 75 feet in diameter. The exterior was rimmed with the rather primitive machinery that allowed the room to perform its function as the container for the ship’s power plant. In any conventional understanding one might call it the engine room. If were to be classified that way then the Amerigo was equipped with six engines. All six of which, through Charlie, Crack, and Kearn’s ingenuity, had been incorporated into what was now known as “The Harmonic Assembly."
As Charlie looked around for any crew member that might be present, he spied a familiar pegasus carefully scrutinizing the recently cleaned machine parts that littered the deck of the circular platform. Charlied waved at him.
“Hey Scotch. Where’s Kearn?”
Scotch started as his concentration was broken. He looked up as his captain came striding over towards him.
“Hi Skipper. Didn’t think I’d see you up here today.” He paused briefly as he thought about Charlie’s question. “I think Kearn went to post his report  about the engine. He thinks we can start putting things back together now.”
“He may want to hold off on that.” Crack added as he finished pulling himself up the ladder behind them.
“What’s wrong?”
“We don’t really know that anything’s ‘wrong.’ We’re just being…”
“Thorough.” Crack finished for him.
“How thorough are we talking?” Scotch asked with some trepidation in his voice. “Because I’m still not done greasing the pusher assembly yet.”
“Relax.” Charlie held up his hands. “This has nothing to do with critiquing anybody’s work. I need you to get Kearn back in here; with his master key.”
Scotch’s eyes went wide.
“You’re not going to-”
“We are.” Crack cut him off.
“We are what? What are we doing, and why am I the last to know?!” Came Kearn’s somewhat irritated voice from across the compartment.
Three heads turned as the zebra engineer exited the freight lift at the far end of the platform and trotted towards them. He punctuated his arrival with a smoker’s hearty cough; which Charlie suspected was really just a way of communicating his frustration.
“You’re smoking too much boss.” Scotch chided.
“I’ll smoke as much or as little as I please!” Kearn shot back. “Now please answer my question. What are we doing, and why am I the last to know?”
Charlie found himself a bit incensed by Kearn’s attitude. He usually wasn’t this irritable. 
“Ok, for starters you’re not the ‘last’ to know you’re just the most recent, and what’s furthermore ‘we’ aren’t doing anything. I am.”
“Oh?”
“I need to inspect the Assembly.”
The zebra raised his eyebrows and gestured towards the center of the platform with a wry grin.
“It’s still there!” He quipped sarcastically.
“You know what I mean.” Charlie said rolling his eyes.
Kearn huffed as he locked his gaze on Crack.
“I’m sorry I may have given Crack the wrong idea, but I really don’t think Element Amber really has a big problem. It was probably the pusher. I’m having it cleaned an re-greased.”He gestured to the parts covering the deck all around them. “You see.”
“Crack did more than just listen to what you said earlier. He opened your logbooks and he realized that this is the first time we’ve had a problem that related to Element Amber so directly. This means that we’ve had to deal with problems related to all five secondarys now, not to mention all the trouble that the primary gave us before we figured out that’s what it was.” Charlie paused for a moment before continuing. “Look we have no idea how these things might be aging. We just need to take a quick look and then we’ll button it all back together again. You don’t want a repeat of the Vomit Comet incident, do you?”
The “Vomit Comet” was the term used to refer to a particularly disturbing accident that had occurred before the Amerigo had even been named. It had been a calm summer day and the ship, still under development at the time, had been undergoing a test to figure out just how high it could climb. Back then Crack, Turner, Kearn, and Charlie didn't even have a clear picture of what they were going to do with their new creation. All they were certain of was that they could make it fly, and that just seemed like it was enough. On that day they’d set out to see just how high they could go. The plan had been to step themselves up to higher and higher altitudes and then turn around and step back down. Yet, that wasn’t what happened. After reaching a terrific height the ship  had suddenly banked hard to the left and gone into free fall. It was Kearn’s objectivity that had saved them from a premature end. Although weightless at the time, he managed, with Charlie and Turner giving him a shove, to maneuver as close to the madly-spinning Assembly as he could and to give it a hard buck. The result had been immediate and the ship stopped falling. Thus proving his theory that the problem had been related to one or two of the elements breaking out of its cradle during flight. 
As if falling from the sky hadn’t been frightening enough the first problem was immediately replaced with another as the ship suddenly took off sideways at a very low, and dangerous, altitude. Turner had barely managed to slow them down and land in a farm field. The ship had ended up smelling like vomit for nearly a month afterward. What was a bit more humorous was how they’d landed in a field that was a bit too close to an earth village for comfort. Luckily, none of the inhabitants were working that area on that particular day. Charlie had been prompted to make some jokes about UFOs and crop circles when they beheld the enormous geometric indentations they’d left in the field.
Returning to the present to see he saw Kearn gazing at the top of the assembly’s rotator bearings. More specifically at his own hoof-print still visible in the burnished brass cowling installed over the moving parts. He was obviously thinking of just how unpleasant and frightening the event had been. Meanwhile, Crack was reaching inside his griffon hauberk and pulling out a chain at the end of which was a silver-plated skeleton key. Charlie responded by reaching inside his own shirt and pulling out a gold-plated one. The two of them stood there staring at their zebra colleague until finally he broke; pulling a key of his own from a small pouch hung around his neck. Kearn’s key was actually solid rather than simply plated. Made of a material so rare that none of the civilizations really had a name for. Though, Charlie suspected it was platinum.
“Let’s dance.” Sighed Kearne as he made his way to the center of the platform with Charlie and Crack following.
The Assembly stood in the center of the platform, an opaque lead-crystal sphere. Normally it would be suspended in the exact center of the room as it rotated freely on the vertical shaft through its center. Yet, today it stood still, supported by a circular brass cradle. Laid around it were the various pieces of “the Pusher.” A set of five concentric rings that surrounded the harmonic assembly using a set of magnetic talismans to prod each of the secondary elements into the appropriate position without touching them; all controlled through a system of pulleys, cogs, and levers. It was a sight to behold when the engine was operating. It was in fact almost hypnotic to see the rings slide past each other. The Harmonic Assembly looked bare and simple now with the pusher disassembled. 
It was at three equidistant points around the base of the assembly that the three took up position. The human and the griffon knelt down and inserted their keys into two of three matching keyholes placed around a circular indentation; which was clearly an access for the sphere’s interior . The zebra took his own position simply sitting back on his haunches and guiding the key into his own hole as he held it in his teeth.
“On three.” Charlie announced; signaling them to count together.
“One, two, three!”
They all rotated on cue and were rewarded with a dull thud as a polished metal wheel, which previously had been flush with the bottom, slid into view. Charlie took up position under the assembly, and using the wheel, rotated the entire access panel a quarter turn to the right. He then stepped back and each of the other two took their own turn rotating the wheel a certain number of degrees in a specific direction. The angle and direction were components of a sequence that only they knew. 
Eventually satisfied, they all returned their attention to their keys and once again counted as they returned them to the neutral position. The response was immediate. The combination wheel snapped back into place; once again flush with the polished surface. With a whirring noise coming from the interior of the Assembly, the panel slowly lowered out of the bottom until it rested on the deck below. They turned to address anyone nearby. 
By this time a half-dozen engineers had taken interest and were watching intently. This was a rather interesting event. Some had never even seen the Harmonic Elements and were no doubt eager to get a glimpse of the enigmatic objects. 
“Everyone back up and give the Captain some room.” Kearne barked at the rubberneckers.
The warning could not have been better timed, Charlie would later think. Even as his engineer spoke he was aware of a soft thump behind him as something fell from the inside of the assembly and hit the deck. It was a sound rather like a large mound of snow or a clump of wet sand would make if it were dropped on the ground. He didn’t have much time to dwell on it when out of the corner of his eye he saw what appeared to be a thin haze of smoke. The eyes of the onlookers grew wide. It seemed like forever, but in actuality it was probably only a second or two before a yellow earth mare began screeching at the top of her lungs.
“Contamination!!!”