“When I first started at the Weather Service, I was frustrated by the slowness of bureaucracy: everything I thought should be done quickly seemed to take ages. It felt like my colleagues, instead of helping me forward, were holding me back.”
The Director was sitting with Raine on the blue couch. While the cadence of her speech reminded me of a rehearsed script, it was not without some sincerity. Raine, for her part, sat nervously. Given the outcome of their last encounter, I couldn’t blame her. For my part, I stood out of the way: I was merely a bit player in this scene; background to the dramatic ambiance of their lives.
“I spent years riling against them because I knew I was right. But it didn’t matter how right or clever or fast I was. What mattered were the relationships I cultivated. Allies are your most important asset in life: those who will champion your cause and guide you when you’ve lost sight of your goals.”
A Champion is someone in authority who recognizes your potential and makes it known. A good Champion isn’t easy to come by. Then again, how many are truly worthy to be or to have them?
“You’ve spent most of your adult life being told how brilliant you are. This was a disservice of your friends and teachers. You ate their praise and got a—what did you call it, Quill?—a ‘fat head.’”
I smiled slightly at this. Maelstrom’s memory was exact. She didn’t need to mention me, but she did. She was including me—crediting me—and that was a good feeling, even if Raine may resent me for it. And there it was—a quick dart of the eyes, a thinning of the lips. Raine wouldn’t forget: they talked about me and Quill put me down.
“Now, your very promising career is on the line. You made enemies by making your superiors look bad. You’ve openly insulted ponies who empirically know more than you. You’re on the fast track to washing out.”
Tears started to fall from Raine’s eyes. They ran the length of her cheek and down onto the blue upholstery. She looked like she was on a knife’s edge; her whole body bracing for the axe to fall, the Ready! Aim! Fire! of her career. It wouldn’t matter if weather was all she could do—her special talent or destiny or whatever you want to call it would hang on the gallows beside her career.
“Don’t cry—here, have a tissue—today is not the end. I’m giving you a chance to start over and prove yourself worthy. In this regard, you will work harder than you ever have before: you’ll learn more about our work in a year than most do in a lifetime. You’ll be part of a team that risks everything to protect the pony population from the most pervasive phenomenon.”
Alliteration is a poor writer’s friend, or so I’m told.
“Of course, I’m referring to the Disaster Response Patrol. The DRP—yes, I’m being serious, Celestia knows why they picked that name—is highly trained and disciplined, their name notwithstanding. They fly into the worst storms, fight back forest fires, and research magical weather events. They combine the best practical skills and theoretical knowledge the EWS has to offer.”
Maelstrom and I had argued on this point. Raine was trouble: ALERT would have been the safe bet, but Maelstrom said: “She needs a challenge. How else can you explain her having the time to do research and reports?” I wasn’t convinced.
“The DRP is your best option to remain at the EWS. You’ll need to accept the transfer or,” she hesitated, “or you’ll need to look for opportunities outside the agency. Which will it be, Summer?”
Maelstrom finished, her expression tight and searching. She watched Raine intently, waiting for a reply. The air was thick with mix of anticipation and frustration. Through the tall office windows, I saw a sailboat on the river. It sailed quietly along smooth waters, casting little wake. Its peaceful transition was a welcome relief to the tension in the room.
The Director and I had spent a solid week looking for a place to fit Raine. While it didn’t take long to find who grounded her, Maelstrom felt it wouldn’t help to take punitive action: it would only foster more resentment towards Raine. Moving her, Maelstrom argued, was the best option for everypony involved.
Maelstrom dedicated more time than I expected to this problem. Raine was practically entry-level. Why waste the Director’s attention on someone so insignificant? As Maelstrom spoke, I realized why: she saw herself in Raine. She saw her younger, brasher self and, being the wiser of the two, choose to reach down with benevolence. That was my theory, anyways. That and a few bits can buy you a sip of cider at Salutations!
“Yes ma'am,” Raine said in a small voice, still rough from fighting back tears. She must have thought the axe was coming. No doubt that’s exactly what Maelstrom wanted her to think. “I’ll do it.”
That was my cue: I stepped around the desk and handed Raine a folder with instructions for her new assignment. She held the folder close to her breast in a comforting way, the way a child holds a doll. You could see the struggle on Raine’s face: the fear of failure, the apprehension for change, the certainty of rejection. Her yellow eyes were red and veiny, they puffed and dodged quickly as if to say, “Nothing to see here.”
“Excellent,” the Director said as she stood. Raine followed suit. I showed Raine out of the office, quietly closing the door behind her.
“Are you sure about this?” I asked. “ALERT would take her without question.”
“If she survives the next moon, we’ll know. In the meantime, we have more pressing matters: we’re going to Las Pegasus.”