//------------------------------// // Nine // Story: Maelstrom // by QQwrites //------------------------------// The train pulled into the Applewood station just after dawn. Fabulous Las Pegasus glowed eerily in morning twilight, the outline of billboards just visible on the horizon. From the train station, it would be a short ride by balloon ferry to the famous cloud city. It would be a first for me: I’d made it a point to spend my life up until this moment with my hooves squarely on the ground. Maelstrom had been quiet since our conversation. She was brooding and irritable. I couldn’t be certain if she was upset with me or preoccupied with our mission; she was laying the placid face on thick. I chose to ignore it, which was Standard Operating Procedure. The balloon ride was smooth and I spent much of it playing the tourist; hanging half way out of the basket to watch Applewood wake up and begin the day. It was a strange experience, looking down from so high, I found myself in the unusual position of feeling relaxed and lost in the moment. I noticed Maelstrom looking over the side as well, with intense purpose. She was here for a reason and determination would drive her. By midday, we had stored our things in our room at the Cloudscape Hotel and Casino. As a cloud city, Las Pegasus' operational cost is measured in water. Millions of liters are used each year to keep the city from crashing to the ground. Even more is used for expansion and consumption. Maelstrom was giving me the rundown as we walked through the casino towards the manager’s office. “Raine’s report identified Las Pegasus as the primary cause of the drought: the city is expanding far beyond expectations. Moister is scarce here because they built it practically in the San Palomino Desert, so the local ecological cost to maintain this city is much higher than, say, Cloudsdale which normally stays in lusher country.” “How does High Roller fit into this?” I asked, pausing a moment to watch a waterfall of bits fall from a slot machine. The middle-aged mare who'd been working the crank was squealing loudly as friends, family, and distant relations came rushing out of the woodwork to congratulate her. “Aside from owning the largest casino, he’s also the de facto mayor of Las Pegasus. My hope is he will willing release his privately-owned water sources to the EWS to the benefit of the region.” She stopped short a door marked “Manager”. “How will we do that?” “I will appeal to his sense of good will and community.” To my horror, she was being sincere. High Roller's laughter echoed loudly in his gilded office. His overweight, gesticulating frame quaked uncontrollably as he rocked in his luxurious high-backed chair. He began hyperventilating, at which point the laughter was replaced with frantic coughing until a servant appeared with a glass of water. He was heavyset, with tall black hair, and a platinum silk suit. He wore gold chains and had the musk of a stallion whose bath was drawn with cologne. He had the kind of personality a mycologist would love to get under the microscope. Maelstrom and I stood in the center of the room. We had dressed in our Weekday Best, but our dark suits were out of place in High Roller’s bright palace. I watched him from beneath the brim of my hat with distaste: I found him bombastic, emotional, and too rich for his own good. A part of me wanted to feed him my hat. Maelstrom was professional enough to keep her expression neutral, but I could see confusion in her eyes. She had constructed a carefully crafted argument based on public welfare and scientific data. She couldn’t wrap her head around someone like High Roller whose life was built on the backs of crooked deals and selfish ambitions. This explanation didn’t sit completely well with me. It had long been my belief that anyone who had advanced to Maelstrom’s position must be least a little dirty, yet her confusion seemed to suggest an unfamiliarity with less noble motivations. “Mister Roller,” Maelstrom began carefully, “I fail to understand your amusement.” High Roller pulled himself together with surprising agility: I wondered if his earlier hysteria was an act. He began speaking with the thick drawl and mannerisms of a rustic entrepreneur: “Darlin’, you came all th' way up here to ask me fer water and you have nothin' to offer! Tell ya what, since I’m a nice guy,” I found that questionable, “I’ll sell it to you! Eight bits per litter!” When a loud person becomes angry, they puff out, make threats, or throw things. But, when a quiet person gets angry, there is a darkness which radiates from them. Maelstrom was putting out enough energy to blot out the sun. The bright colors of the room dimmed as if the distant generators which lit the room were suddenly strained. “You must be aware that is eight times the wholesale price,” she said through gritted teeth. “Supply and demand, darlin’!” he cried happily. “I’ve got it, you need it!” “Without the EWS, that water is useless.” “Oh, I wouldn’t say that! No, darlin’, not at all! Why, it makes waterfront real estate possible!” He laughed heartily. “Hey, Pal,” I heard myself say, “This is the Director of the EWS. Why don’t you stuff the attitude and get wise? We came here to save your city, not be gouged by a two-bit hustler.” Roller turned on me with a snarl, but Maelstrom cut him off: “Mister Roller, I am extremely busy and do not have the time or patience to suffer your folksy fencing any longer. Either supply the EWS with the water we require or face the consequences.” Her expression was neutral but her tone was sharp. The moment she finished, she turned for the door. I followed closely, uncertain how this would play out. Roller started hollering and making demands as Maelstrom charged through the door without a backwards glance. I made sure to slam the door in Roller’s face as he chased after us. There was a satisfying thud as his face met wood. It wasn’t my hat, but it would do. We got back to our room a few minutes later. Maelstrom had walked at a gallop's pace and I was feeling a bit winded when she slammed our door, barely missing my tail. With a tigress roar, she threw her hooves down on an innocent writing table and scattered the contents across the floor. “That impudent, obstreperous, conniving, selfish mule!” she swore loudly. I was trying to make myself scarce. Seeing the Director outwardly angry (or emotional, to be honest) was new and I didn’t want to be in the fallout. Unfortunately, it was a small room and it only took a moment for her to zero in on me: “You want to tell me what in Tartarus happened back there?!” She was panting heavily, her wings way out like a gargoyle who’d spotted her prey. It felt like an accusation and I wasn’t in the mood to take it for demanding a little courtesy: “High Roller's a pig and he wasn’t going to be won over by a bunch of ‘for the good of Equestria’ rhetoric! We lost the second we walked in that ridiculous office!” She threw her forehooves up in aggravation and slumped in a chair. “Alright, Quill,” she began, her voice a dagger. “What do you think we should do?” Her face was slowly rolling back into the usual calm exterior, but it didn’t fool me: she was furious and I was walking a tight rope over a pool of acid. “Roller’s basically the mayor, so appealing to the local government is out. How about the papers? Tell them the region is in danger and he’s sitting on his hooves.” Maelstrom considered this a moment. “My understanding is High Roller's friends own the papers. If there’s a negative story, it’ll be about the incompetence of the EWS.” “Immanent Domain? Seize the water for the public?” I asked, uncertainty. “It’d work, but he’ll fight it. The courts are slow, Quill. By the time we won, the damage will be done.” She sighed and turned to look out the window. It was midday and the streets were full of taxis and colorful pedestrians, heavy purses looking to be lightened. “Water from another region?” I asked hopefully. “We don’t have the logistics this late in the season.” At length, Maelstrom scanned the city for inspiration. I flopped on to the couch and put my hat over my eyes. I was thinking of nodding off when Maelstrom came over and sat next to me: “I apologize for yelling at you.” Her expression was calm and almost felt maternal. “However, you must recognize you were out of line.” I nodded in agreement. I might have argued it, but I wanted things to go back it normal. You don’t realize how much you rely on another’s consistent stability until it’s gone. “I have a plan to persuade High Roller; though, its ethics are questionable.” “What did you have in mind?” I had to force the words out. She was looming over me and there was cold fire in her eyes: “I’m going to destroy Las Pegasus.”