//------------------------------//
// Five 
// Story: Maelstrom 
// by QQwrites 
//------------------------------//

Some weeks later, I had arrived to work early one morning to find Maelstrom’s door closed, the lights off, and a note on my desk. It said only one word, but I recognized the Director’s script immediately: “Sick”. I couldn’t remember the last time Maelstrom had been away. I stood at my desk, uncertain how to proceed.

While the Director promoted autonomy among her employees, I had never been in a position to need it. She always had a task for me to accomplish. But, with Maelstrom out for the day, the newly appointed Deputy Director would be handling things.

I sat at my desk, shuffling papers; looking for anything which could be completed without my boss’s signature. After an hour, I gave up and decided to wander the EWS building. Maybe learn a thing or two about the agency at a lower, more detailed level.

The familiar feeling of a library remained into Maelstrom’s administration. You could hear a pin drop’s apology clear across the room. Through the glass wall of a workshop, I watched some of the employees at task. Some were charting with compasses and rulers while others worked with chalkboards and text books. One of them saw me, cocked his head as if asking what I was looking at, then began to furiously scribble in his notes.

By lunchtime, I was bored wandering the halls. I decided to leave the office for lunch—another first, since I usually ate at my desk or with Maelstrom in her office. I found a nearby café, sat outside, and had some coffee and sandwiches.

I recognized a number of other EWS employees come and go, but I doubted they recognized me without Maelstrom. I had the unsettling thought that I was nothing more than a sentient day planner and occasional saddlebag. Maybe that’s okay: those things have purpose. I have purpose.

A tray of food landed on the table across from me. I looked up to see its owner, one Summer Raine. She sat in a chair and took an unnecessarily strong pull through a drink straw. I would have found it comical, if she wasn’t looking at me like one looks at a hairball in their soup.

“Raine,” I said, acknowledging her presence. I noticed she wasn’t wearing a flight jacket, just the lanyard all employees were required to carry when working.

“Quill.”

I turned back to the remains of my lunch. Raine’s sudden appearance was putting me off my appetite, but to leave so quickly would be rude. Social conventions are an inconvenience.

“Do you want to tell me,” she began with barely contained hostility, “why I’ve been grounded?”

“News to me,” I said honestly. “The Directorship doesn’t get involved—”

“Like Tartarus they don’t!” She slammer her hoof on the table. “I’m cleaning the parade grounds for a moon because of whatever you’re up to! I saw that smug look on your face the other day after Maelstrom told me off!”

“I don’t have the authority to ground you and Maelstrom was pleased with your report—even if your attitude needs a good kick the teeth.” I was getting mad. Accusations are one thing, but Raine was drawing a lot of attention to my table. The rumor mill would be working overtime that Maelstrom’s assistant was throwing his weight around while she was out. “Who said you were grounded?” I asked in a quieter tone.

“My Group Leader, Dewdrops. She said it came from higher up!”

“I’ll make a deal with you, Raine: I’ll look into your flight status if you keep your nose clean and voice down.”

“My nose what?” she touched a hoof to her nose, uncertain.

I rolled my eyes. “Clean. It means ‘stay out of trouble.’ As in, the opposite of what you’ve been doing lately.”

She scowled and turned her attention to lunch, for which I was grateful.

Of course, I could have walked straight down to the local Flight Office and confront Raine’s GL, but that didn’t seem like a good idea. If I started popping up at places I normally avoided, rumors of a power-hungry assistant would just grow. I considered waiting for Maelstrom to come back on her own, but I was afraid Raine would say something stupid between now and then.

My only hope was to visit Maelstrom this afternoon and try to explain what was going on before someone else did. Like any job, government work is full of people who desire advancement, but lack the skills or credentials to make that happen though the quality of their work. Instead, they use subterfuge to put in the minds of their superiors that, out of all this rough, they are the diamond. “Cover Your Flank” was the name of the game: keep the mud off so you always shine.


Maelstrom lived in an apartment a few kilometers from the EWS office. I took a taxi to her building. The Earth Pony steward at the door gave me the once-over before letting me in, warning me not to cause any trouble. It was an odd interaction, given the up-scale neighborhood was probably one of the safest in Baltimare.

I took the elevator to the twelfth floor and found unit 1203. I hesitated at the door, worried that Maelstrom would not be pleased to see me. Few things are as miserable as a sick person. A sick workaholic, doubly so. I knocked at the door, bracing myself for whatever wrath may befall me, only to find it opened inward all on its own.