//------------------------------// // Guard Flutter, Part III: The Promotion // Story: Guard Flutter // by Impossible Numbers //------------------------------// On the foredeck of the Bellerophon Alpha, flag ship of the armada and pride of the Wonderbolts, the pegasi and griffons jumped out of the way as Captain Rainbow Dash streaked through the crowd and skidded to a complete halt. Both wings were stretched out to their fullest extent, and all four hooves bunched together in an attempt to not fall off the edge and onto the lower deck. She tried to smirk as though nothing had gone wrong whatsoever. Each wing beat gently at the tips so as to subtly tip her back and away from the drop. A few mutterings behind her were ignored. One foreleg shot up into a salute. “Captain Rainbow Dash, ma’am. Five times squad champion at the Academy Skyball Tournament, Order of Hurricane Force Ten Class, and eight times finalist for the Heart of Gold Award for Outstanding Gallantry. Need I say more?” The officer beside her grunted. “I dunno. Need you?” While the officer picked up and reshuffled his scattered papers, it occurred to Captain Rainbow Dash that there was a certain something lacking in his response. It wasn’t that she had no idea what it was. It was that she’d rather hoped he wouldn’t care that much. From behind her, she distinctly heard someone whisper, “Isn’t that ‘Rainbow Hash’ from the Academy?” “I thought they called her ‘Rainbow Smash ‘N’ Bash’? Or was it ‘Rainbow the Trash’?” “No no no, I distinctly remember it as ‘Rainbow Oh-My-Gosh-I-Just-Gave-Myself-Whiplash’.” She coughed in order to drown it out. “You know why I’m here, come on. I was sent for?” she prompted, watching the officer fuss over his paperwork. “By the Major?” Over his glasses, the officer glared at her. “Ah, I see. Disciplinary hearing, was it?” Rainbow’s wings lowered slightly. “Eh? No, it’s about the new post opening up.” “Demotion, then. Or did somebody lose a bet upstairs?” “Never mind. I’ll walk it myself.” Rainbow cruised over to the hatchway and clambered down the rungs. As she went, she could still hear the unseen whisperers trying to thrash out her old school nickname. None of it mattered, really. They called her lots of things back then. Clumsy, stupid, rash… Well, she was, if she was honest, but that was just the small stuff. Nothing had been broken. OK, nothing anyone cared about, but they had ponies to fix that. And she could take it on the nose, or wherever she'd hit herself this time. The warmth of the ship smothered her as she hopped onto the timber floor and strode through the doorway to the corridor. Other creaking, hinged entrances and exits met her every few steps, all of them shut, but occasionally a pegasus or a griffon would wander past and duck into one, or a door would burst open as someone hurried across to another chamber. One or two nodded at her or gave polite smiles as they passed, but she was mostly ignored. A wall of white stepped out in front of her. Before she could react, it had seized her in a hug like an avalanche. “RAINBOW DASH!” yelled the wall, making every bone shake under her flesh. “RAINBOW DASH! KNOCKS ‘EM DEAD WITH HER RAINBOW FLASH!” She squirmed in a futile attempt to dig herself out of the snowdrift. “Awesome… to see you too… Bulky. Do you mind… letting me… breathe… for a mo?” “SORRY! GOT CARRIED AWAY! IT’S SO AWESOME TO SEE YOU AGAIN, RAINBOW DASH!” “I know.” Rainbow finally prised herself free of the death grip. It took a few seconds to pop back into shape. She stepped back and peered up at the straining veins and deranged grin of Bulk Biceps. He was technically a pegasus, though there’d been a long and bitter dispute that had seen him briefly classified as a white bull, as a stunted elephant, and in one notable case as a living siege weapon. Behind him, a second face popped into view. There was no mistaking that face either, if only because there were few faces that could achieve panoramic vision without turning around. The head shook itself, righting its gaze long enough to focus on Rainbow. “Oh wow,” breathed the owner of the new face. “Rainbow Dash! Look Bulky! The actual Rainbow actual Dash!” “Add ‘actual captain’ to the resumé now, Derpy.” Rainbow beamed at her with her most dazzling smile. “Hey, wanna see the scars I got while I was in the Cygnus Range? Look. I got this one while I was in the mouth of an arimaspi. Bet you ain’t seen one like that.” “Oh wow, oh wow, oh wow,” said Derpy, while her left eye wandered off to find something shiny to look at. “I wish I had scars I could show to people. You could tell us stories about them.” “I could, Derpy, but show ‘n’ tell will have to wait. You guys know if the Major’s in, or what? She wasn’t on the deck.” “YEAH!” They covered their ears in the face of Bulk Biceps’ gale-force yell. “RIGHT HERE, CAPTAIN! GOOD LUCK WITH YOUR NEW ASSIGNMENT!” The two of them stepped aside, revealing the doorway they had been guarding. Rainbow nodded at each of them before pausing to slick back her rainbow mane and to crack a few joints in her legs. Only then – and after stiffening her back and tightening the fold of her wings – did she burst through the doorway. Rule one, she thought, is act cool. Act cool enough to freeze air. Everything is chill in your presence. Yeah… OK… She began to thaw, however, at the sight of the desk opposite. The room itself was sparse, nothing more than a timber cube with a lone shelf to her right and a porthole to her left that looked out onto the black night. A few fireflies bumped against the glass; the Major shifted the jar aside and looked up from the papers on her desk. “Captain Rainbow Dath.” The smirk was not improved by the pink goggles that stared at her like the gaze of some giant insect. “Well, well, well. Heard tho much about you through the grapevine.” “Yes, ma’am. Heard you’d heard about me through the grapevine, ma’am.” Rainbow Dash stiffened and stood to attention opposite. It was warmer than she’d expected. Her uniform was starting to itch. Major Fleetfoot placed a hoof on the desk and slid a few papers across. Rainbow glanced down at them, catching her name a few times and hoping it was all good. It was hard to tell with Fleetfoot. “Theemth you’ve been recommended for promotion, Captain Rainbow Dath,” she continued, the smirk still in her voice even as it disappeared from her face. “If you athk me, it’th way overdue. You mutht be very proud of what you did in the Cygnuth Range. I remember it wath a tricky campaign before you came along.” “Glad to hear it, ma’am.” Rainbow ignored the bead of sweat dribbling down her forehead. “Of courth, in thome wayth it wath even trickier oneth you did come along,” continued Fleetfoot. “There have been complainth, you underthtand. You’re not an easy pegathuth to get along with, or tho they thay.” Rainbow opened her mouth to protest, but caught herself just in time. I got promoted anyway, she thought. I got promoted anyway. Just sit tight. That’s all you have to do, Rainbow. Keep your trap shut. “Thtill…” Fleetfoot shrugged. “That wath an amathing rethult at the end. How did you know to break into their treathure vaulth and uthe it againtht them? If you don’t mind my thaying tho, tactical thinking ithn’t your thtrenth.” There was a hook at the end of the statement, but as laughable as it was to dodge, Rainbow still found herself thinking: Tactical thinking isn’t my strength, is it? Not smart enough to plan ahead, am I? Aloud, she said, “It wasn’t hard to figure it out, ma’am. They love gold and shiny things. You can get ‘em to do anything if you hold it over a bottomless pit.” “Not bad.” Another shuffling of papers; Rainbow wondered if Fleetfoot was disappointed. “And thome of the moveth you pulled off! Hadn’t even heard of motht of them. You’re a mare of many thurpritheth, Rainbow Dath.” Behind her barely suppressed grin, a worm of suspicion wriggled in Rainbow’s mind. Everything was coming up Rainbow Dash. It was too good. Not that it was too good for her, obviously, but she wasn’t sure where the complaints fit into it. “Thethe are your paperth.” Fleetfoot’s wings curled forwards and cupped the sheets in an apparent pose of supplication. “It’th a bit boring, I know, but everybody hath to go through thith thtuff before they get to the goodth. And ath your thenior commanding officer, it’th up to me to athign you to your new thip.” This time, the grin broke through in full. The idea of commanding her own ship was just too much. It was like being a foal again, except this time the toys were the size of buildings and full of real people. Old tactics and memorized moves flooded back into her mind. Her wings shivered slightly with the urge to flap. “Thank you, ma’am!” she said, fighting to keep the quiver of excitement out of her voice. “I won’t let you down, ma’am!” She tucked the papers under one wing, saluted, and about-turned to scurry to the door, already giggling under her breath. “Jutht a moment, Captain! Leaping off the cliff a little quickly, aren’t we? I haven’t even dithmithed you yet. And there’th the matter of which thip I’ve jutht athigned you. Don’t you want to know it’th name?” Rainbow’s ears burned red. She was fully aware that they called her a loose cannon sometimes, but one of the problems of being a loose cannon is not noticing you’ve just gone off into someone’s wall until the dust clears. “Sorry, ma’am,” she said quickly. “My new ship, ma’am?” Is it the Iobetes, she thought frantically, or the Gorgon? Tell me it’s the Gorgon! That one’s like a tank in midair, and the shark balloon is as radical-looking as it gets. It’s got a blade on the top! A real blade! “Thure. Ath of this moment in time, you will be captain of the Leucippus. You thould be proud; it’th a good thip. Got a new crew fresh from the thity. Thorry, did you thay thomething?” Memory dredged a black pearl from the mud of Rainbow’s mind. Leucippus… she’d heard of that one, but something flashed in her head alarmingly, and it bothered her all the more that she didn’t know why. “I said, ‘Is there anything else, ma’am?’” Rainbow repeated. Fleetfoot nudged the jar with a wing and shook her head slowly. “Nothing cometh to mind. Thomething bothering you, Captain?” Rainbow frowned harder, almost crushing her eyes under the weight of her brow. Leucippus… they called it the White Horse, but it had something to do with someone or other… Someone had told her about it. “It’s been a while, ma’am,” she said quickly. “Wasn’t there something big about that ship? Like something everyone knows about it? It’s gone clean out of my head, ma’am.” Fleetfoot shrugged again, and the smirk rose up briefly. “All I know about it ith that the latht captain went down a couple of rungth very, very rethently. Nothing elthe cometh to mind.” A few minutes later, Rainbow was marching out of the room, her chest almost lifting her hooves off the ground through sheer pride, when her memory came out of nowhere and mugged her. She pressed her hooves into her face, groaned at the top of her voice, and fell back and sat down heavily, right there in the corridor. “Fluttershy!” she shouted at nothing. “She did it! Oh, heck no. Gosh darn it, darn it, darn it! Tell me she didn't.” Moaning again, she wiped her face down. Of course, the peacekeepers had lots of ways of getting the brightest and the best up top, but still. “For Pete's sake, tell me she didn't!” A few passing pegasi gave her funny looks until she glared at them and sent them scurrying away. This was not their business. Still, she kept her mouth clamped tightly shut until she was out of the ship and flying well clear of the armada, below the endless stars and towards the blue sea of stratus cloud stretching away to the moon. It was not a good night for Lord Buffet, either. Normally, the bulls from the nearby Quart District would have kept away from the main avenue, but he’d caught two of them standing as bold as brass on the corner, eyeing up passing citizens and occasionally sidling up to any oxen who happened to stop at the omnibus sign. The nerve of some people, and on his patch too! With a bovine moan, he stopped outside the apothecary and turned his square bulk to face the two minotaurs flanking him. Bulls would have been more appropriate, but it was always better to get bodyguards with thumbs. They had more options. “The Quart District,” he said in a whisper that made the ground shake, “is becoming a nuisance.” Both guards nodded. There wasn’t much point in explaining any further. There was only one response they were likely to give when it came to nuisances. He watched them go, and then stepped through the entrance with a tinkle of the bell. The two minotaurs he’d sent for earlier were inside waiting for him; they moved into position as he trundled down the aisle. No matter how much he tried to force it, or how often he turned to check on his guards, he couldn’t shake the leaden weights he felt in his guts, all four of them. Of course, he didn’t miss Lady Carcarass, the stuck-up harpy, but she was still one of the Lords and Ladies. There were such things as standards. Behind the till, the changeling blinked at them stupidly. Lord Buffet didn’t bother hiding his own shudder; tolerance was something that happened to other people. “What happened to the other one who ran this place?” he bellowed. “Mister Gordy, wasn’t it?” The black head tilted back to take in the minotaur mountains either side of him. With a click, the changeling adjusted its posture and leaned forwards to bow its head. “I’m sorry. He passed away last week, Mister Buffet,” it squeaked. “In his will, he gave the shop to my partner Rotgill. Rotgill’s out for lunch at the moment.” Lord Buffet sniffed, making his golden nose ring bounce. “I wasn’t aware the old griffon was friends with your sort. And why don’t you change into something more respectable? No offence to your kind, but you must admit you do look out of place in an apothecary.” A flicker of a frown flashed across the changeling’s face, but a growl issued from one of the minotaurs, and it hastily switched into a respectable pegasus guise. Lord Buffet noted with approval the black and white blobs on the body and mane. Traditional bovine colours, he thought. Very respectable. “Now,” he said as carelessly as he dared, “let’s get down to business, Mister…?” “Slimeball, Mister Buffet.” The changeling gave an apologetic smile. “And it’s Miss, by the way. Um, if you don’t mind?” “Miss… Slimeball. I don’t know if you’re aware of your predecessor’s arrangements,” continued Lord Buffet, “but when you and your partner inherited Mister Gordy’s Apothecary, you also inherited certain obligations.” “Ah!” The changeling tapped its snout with a hoof and ducked out of sight. “Two steps ahead of you, Mister Buffet! Here we are.” A paper bag was dumped on the counter. Lord Buffet noted the clumsy scrawl on its side which, if he was generous and tilted his head and squinted, looked vaguely like his name. With a curt nod to the leftmost bodyguard, he waited until the jars and pills had been rattled and brought up to the lamplight for inspection. “Full prescription, sir,” murmured the bodyguard. Despite himself, Lord Buffet was impressed. But then they did say that changelings were like hive creatures – bees, wasps, termites, naked mole rats – and presumably that extended to their busy work ethic too. For once, his smile was genuine, or at least genuinely polite. “A pleasure doing business with you, Miss Slimeball. I see this apothecary has a bright and steady future ahead of it. Come.” One of the minotaurs sniggered. Lord Buffet turned to leave, and was caught out when the changeling gave a slight cough. “What?” he said curtly. The changeling extended a hoof and flexed the forelimb twice at the wrist. “Um, that’s two green gems, Mister Buffet.” The bull gave him a look. It was a look designed to stretch out the seconds into hours and to petrify the very air between him and his target. It was a look that, when spotted by his bodyguards, stirred them from their menacing reverie and got them flexing their arms and cracking their knuckles. It was a look, Lord Buffet liked to think, that combined the command of a whisper with the subtlety of a raised fist. Shadows fell across the changeling. “Oh dear, Miss Slimeball,” rumbled Lord Buffet with a shake of his horned head. “And you were doing so well. Let me and my associates explain the obligation to you.” Knuckles cracked above the cowering head of the pegasus, whose whole body turned completely pale. “Mister Gordy provided us with a valuable and enviable service. My poor stomachs do cry out for remedy, Miss Slimeball, and for an ox, that’s no small matter. In return, we ensure that Mister Gordy has a business. We help this establishment by giving it an edge over its competitors. We provide it generous protection from the criminal elements of the city. We, in short, ensure that this valuable and enviable service exists.” “B-B-But… But…” Changelings really were stupid, he thought huffily. Even with two minotaurs hovering over it, the thing’s still stammering to speak. “Don’t try and extort me, Miss Slimeball!” he bellowed. “If you do that, then my obligations to the apothecary are at an end! A lot of bad things can happen to an ailing apothecary, Miss Slimeball.” On an inspiration, he added, “Republican Carcarass turned her back on her obligations too. And look what happened to her, out here in the dark streets! You wouldn’t want that to happen to you, would you?” A squeak escaped from the changeling, which by this point was so pale it was almost shining. Oh well, he thought, I’ve made my point. “Good thing we cleared that up. Now, if there are no more silly interruptions, Miss Slimeball, I shall take my leave.” Out on the street, he strode with sweeping limb and firm hoof on the paving slabs. Tufts of grass grew up along the edge where the other citizens preferred softer ground, but Lord Buffet believed a tougher terrain made tougher feet. As he swaggered along the street, his mind turned back to Lady Carcarass. Of course, he had no actual idea what had happened to her, but frankly he felt a republican had no business in their kind of business anyway. The Lords and Ladies didn’t need mealy-mouthed softies like that in their inner circle. They needed tough steaks like him, noble breeds with history and a firm foot on the ground. Even Lord Tirek was only a conniver, a cunning bit of copper wire where a lead pipe would work just as well. Why, his latest scheme was lunacy itself… Lord Buffet’s self-congratulatory train of thought trundled along its familiar rails, and it took him a while to realize a street light had just gone out. His train of thought tipped dangerously for a moment. “Eh?” he said. One of his bodyguards had mumbled something. “I said where we goin’, Mister Buffit?” “Lord Buffet!” he bellowed. “And I don’t like your tone. Now, your companion here –” When he turned, there was no other minotaur in sight. As he cast his glare around the empty street, he heard the faint notes of some string instrument nearby. The train of thought crushed it under its wheels, and he snorted and strode onwards, muttering threats and complaints under his breath. Behind him, the tread of hooves stopped. No one was there when he forced his own four hooves to turn him around. Both bodyguards were gone. A frown creased his brow, and a chill began to creep over his flat back. His line of work demanded round-the-clock protection. He suddenly felt as though he’d just lost two limbs. Blinking stupidly, he became aware of the music again, still tapping out a gentle tune nearby. “What? What?” he mumbled. “What the deuce is going on?” “Mister Buffet,” echoed a voice. Had he been a daintier creature, Lord Buffet would have leaped up into the air. As it was, he almost rose off the path, but the crack in one of his legs made him wince when the weight crashed back down on it. A tiny but determined flow of music tiptoed on the edge of his hearing. Another street lamp went out. He became increasingly aware of how alone he was on this street. While a bull is perfectly capable of holding itself in check and thinking things through, there were stereotypes that saturated the minds of the city, and Lord Buffet’s mind was rather indulgent when it came to stereotypes. He snorted, seeing imaginary capes waved at him with insulting flutters, and began charging, the sheer bulk of his outrage almost burying the sharp squeak of fear trapped in his bovine brain. Lowing, he thrashed out with a horn and upturned a carriage, crashing wood briefly drowning out the rising crescendo. Then the lights went out. The music stopped. Lord Buffet stumbled as he tried to bring his half-ton body to a standstill. When the lights came back on, he was standing in the middle of the street. He winced at the rush of light forcing its way through his surprised eyes. A cape fluttered ahead of him. It trailed behind a pegasus-like thing leaning against a lamppost, each right leg crossed over its left leg. The wide-brimmed hat obscured its face, but in any case the creature was dressed in dark purples that in this light gave it the quality of a living shadow. “Mister Buffet,” echoed a voice all around him. “You consume this city. You eat lives and devour the peace and happiness of others. You turn others into gluttonous monsters too. What have you to say for yourself?” Panic began to creep over the bull’s old mind. Lord Buffet snorted and pawed at the ground. “Who are you?” he murmured, while around him the armour of self-righteousness and certainty was blasted away. “You think you’re Father Time in that ridiculous outfit? What? What?” The head rose up to appraise him. Under the brim, two blank eyes peered out. The mask was complete, leaving nothing but the vague shape of a pegasus’s muzzle to the imagination. Not so much as a hair poked out of the dark fabric. “Judge, jury, and executioner,” echoed the voice, “Mister Buffet.” With a final defiant bellow, Lord Buffet charged at the shadow. Such was his speed that he barely took in the sudden shifting of the stranger’s limbs before the cape smothered his view and he was plunged into darkness. Metal smacked him sharply between the eyes. He was thrown back, the momentum tearing out of his chest and face before he fell unconscious.