//------------------------------// // Chapter 12: Biome // Story: Synthesis // by Starscribe //------------------------------// Dakota couldn’t remember ever even riding a ship before, much less heading out into the ocean to go diving. But there it was on the docks, its sleek metallic shape glittering in the early morning sunlight. She hadn’t been arrested the night before, nor were there any other signs that she was about to spend the rest of her life in prison. None yet, anyway. The boat itself looked new, and for once there wasn’t a single overlay to enhance its appearance. Even with everything on, all that Dakota could see were instructions. There were arrows pointing to the mess, arrows telling her where she could stow her fresh new mask, arrows telling her where to puke if she felt sick. That was it. The ship didn’t have too many others—just a couple of Asian tourists and someone who dressed like a local. Well, them and their guides. The same two dive instructors that had taught them all how to use the equipment the day before. But the boats aren’t empty, that’s the main thing. Will we separate? She’d been given this ticket by someone she had thought was US government at the time. But now she was less certain of that. Maybe she was government, or maybe she worked for Equestria, or maybe neither. There wasn’t an abundance of information. “You’ll be here, Dakota,” said Elliot, waving. “Wait, I’d leave that wetsuit off your top half for now. It’s an hour out, and you don’t want to overheat. Dakota blushed a little at that—in a bikini top, her scars were still visible up and down her body. Jagged half-healed stitches up her arms, then her back and neck. The surgeons had done far less to conceal them anywhere but her face and head, where time for follow-up procedures could eventually get rid of it all. She probably wouldn’t have been so self-conscious if the one in the seat beside her wasn’t so attractive. He had the look of an experienced diver about him—not just because he had his own equipment instead of the rental gear, but because he carried a huge “spearfishing kit” along with him like he was Aquaman about to go to war for his kingdom. He had the right physique for it too, maybe a little older than Dakota and at least twice her weight. He also wasn’t wearing a top, which didn’t help things. And I really don’t have time to waste with some muscle-bound, gun-toting idiot. I’ve got a missing girl to find. Dakota sat down on her plastic seat, folding her arms and glancing back at the pier. It looked empty, but—something wasn’t quite right. What wasn’t she noticing? “You’re smart not to go around with AR goggles on your face,” said the meathead beside her. His accent was more familiar than she’d expected. Not a local, but more… southern United States. Slow, respectful. “Wonder what’s such a big deal that they don’t wanna be seen. What do you reckon?” She glanced to her other side, where Cinnabar was sitting. The question was obvious, but her pony only shrugged. “Don’t look at me. There’s nothing on the pier.” Dakota turned back, and tried to say something clever, something that would make her feel a little less like the freak who didn’t belong on the boat. “Contacts.” She blushed, turning away and wincing. That wasn’t enough! Why wasn’t her brain cooperating? “Oh. Well then. Wanna see a trick?” He didn’t wait for her response, reaching one thick arm over her chest and picking up her mask from where it hung off the edge of her tank. Dakota held still, but didn’t actually protest or try to stop him. Wonder if you’re busy after I’m finished finding our missing girl. “Municipal overlay can sometimes hide things they don’t want you to see. Same way that the higher levels hide crowds and barking dogs and babies crying on planes. But it’s not so great at distortions. If something’s distorted even a little, say… by an imperfect reflection…” He held up the mask, so that the glass angled a faint reflection of the pier right near Dakota’s vision. The pier wasn’t empty in the reflection—there were two black vans parked near the back, their drivers’ windows too dark to see inside. Though they looked like they supported manual driving. “Quit it now, Clay, you’re freakin’ the girl right out,” said a voice from the seat on his other side. She turned, and was unsurprised to see the man’s Synth. An earth pony who looked exactly like she pictured someone with that accent’s Synth to look. Tan, with an old-fashioned braid and a Stetson hat. She seemed to notice Dakota looking in her direction and nodded politely to her. “Afternoon. Hope my human ain’t botherin’ ya none.” Clay pulled his arm back, tossing the mask back down into her lap. “It doesn’t have to be that different,” he said. “Pattern recognition. Don’t let it fool you.” She nodded, carefully sliding the mask back into place on her tank. She wasn’t going to take any chances with the equipment that was supposed to get her safely into the Bodhisattva underwater server farm. I really, really hope they were inviting us somehow. This is gonna suck otherwise. “I hope we’re all ready to shove off!” said Lizzie, one of the diving instructors. “Bit of an empty boat on this tour, which should be just great for each of you. Settle in, and don’t be afraid to ask if you need anything during the trip.” Their conversation paused for a minute while Dakota watched the boat’s little crew push away from the docks. They got a brief safety demonstration, learned where the flotation devices were stored in case of an emergency, and then they were off. “I’m Dakota, and this is Cinnabar,” she said, extending a hand. “You on vacation here too?” Her hand vanished into Clay’s massive paws. “Guess you could say that. I enjoy myself a trip ‘round the world now an’ then. Gotta be where the action is, ya’ know?” He let go only after long enough that she started to feel warmth again. “Quit bein’ modest,” Clay’s Synth said. “Where’d ya’ learn manners, Clay? Lady introduces her Synth, and you sit there impersonating an apple tree.” “Quit it.” He glared, and it was then Dakota realized he was wearing contacts. Contact, specifically. One of his eyes glowed, and the other just reflected sunlight. Guess that explains how he could see the spooks. I’ll have to remember the thing about reflections. “She’s right, though. I’m Clay, you heard that. And the one keepin’ me on the straight and narrow is Applejack.” He seemed to be expecting something from her—but all Dakota felt was a brief sense of familiarity and recognition. She should’ve recognized the name, she realized that now. She should’ve but she couldn’t place it. I really need to figure out a way to talk to Cinnabar privately. People are always listening that I don’t want to hear. She could type him messages that people watching would have trouble reading, but that wasn’t anything close to the same thing. “Good to meet you,” Cinnabar supplied. “You both experienced divers? I see you’ve got a pearl there, Miss Applejack. I hope you don’t mind sharing. Dakota hasn’t earned seeing me flounder around down there.” “I shouldn’t if you’ll make awful puns,” she said. “But sure, might as well. Ain’t no difference to me.” She climbed back into her seat. “I ain’t plannin’ on swimmin’ myself anyway. Figure if Celestia wanted ponies to swim, she would’ve given us fins. Ya’ll knock yourselves out.” If she’d been one of her friends, Dakota probably would’ve asked why she even bothered coming out. But this wasn’t a friend, it was a stranger. A stranger she couldn’t just question. What’s wrong with you, Dakota? They chatted politely for the next hour or so, as the boat made its way out. There were two distinct groups—her and Clay in one, and the tourists in the other. They both had a dive instructor to prep them during the trip over. Dakota listened carefully, even moreso to the additional details that Cinnabar occasionally offered. “I downloaded the service manuals for every bit of equipment you’ll be wearing today. There’s no problem waiting for us out there that I can’t fix.” “But how are we going to—” She couldn’t finish that sentence, even though she chose a moment when the others around her were barely paying attention. She could still trust Cinnabar to know how to answer her and not share what they were thinking with everyone else. “Pretty simple.” He leaned in close, though of course there was no reason for him to whisper. He did anyway. “Brochure says this trip is three dives. The first one is nowhere near where we want to be. After that, we ride an hour, eat lunch on deck, and stop at the second site. That’s where we have to get you separated from the group somehow. I guess it’s up to you to impress everyone enough that they aren’t foalsitting you the second time down.” She glared, folding her arms. Now sure how I’m supposed to do that with a bum leg. At least she’d healed enough that she could even be doing this. Hopefully. I could still just die in the water in a few minutes. They reached the first site, and Dakota waited while both instructors assisted the tourist group to get in first. Lizzie would be going with them, while Elliot planned on leading the other two. So she stood just in front of her seat. “Wish I got to do tropical water more often,” Clay muttered. His eyes were fixed firmly on the group of tourists, though Dakota couldn’t have said what was so interesting about them. “But visibility in Florida is piss, and on the west coast you have to suit up so thick it’s not even worth it.” “You don’t… really seem like this sport would be for you,” Dakota muttered. “Guess it isn’t for as many people as it used to be. Why boat all the way out here when somebody already made a simulation you can explore with no saltwater and no irrational fear of sharks.” Clay reached over to her, resting one hand on her shoulder. “Dakota, let me share a secret with you.” He didn’t wait for confirmation, pulling her forward enough that she almost fell over and smacked into him. Maybe what he’d been intending. “There is no such thing as an irrational fear of sharks. Sharks are the spookiest animals on Earth.” Dakota put one hand on his chest, shoving him slightly away—but she might as well have been trying to shove a brick wall for all the good it did. Clay’s eyes had gone suddenly unfocused, his whole body locking up. Like he was listening to something she couldn’t hear. Cinnabar reacted just a second later, speaking urgently from beside her. “Something just happened underwater. I think it was gunshots, you should—” But Clay was faster. Instead of letting go of her shoulder, he yanked them both down onto the rubber deck-mat, a second before gunshots ricocheted off the ceiling. Lizzie screamed and crouched low, covering her head. “They’re on the launch ramp!” Applejack called, standing right beside the place where the tourist group had gone down. Dakota dared a peek in their direction, and saw the overweight tourist aiming a rifle up over the edge of the boat. Straight at her. Dakota sure as hell wasn’t going to lay on the deck and wait for some idiot to save her. She kicked out with a leg, knocking her waiting tank and BC out of the plastic bracket to slide slowly down the deck. There was more gunfire a second later, and this time it was followed by an enormous BANG and a roar. Her tank and gear zipped around the deck, smashing straight through the sidewall and out into the ocean. That was about the moment the captain emerged from the cockpit, wielding an oversized diving knife. “What the fuck are you doing on my—” He fell a second later, clutching at his chest. And all that had taken so little time that Dakota could barely even blink. “Over the side!” Cinnabar called. “Someone’s climbing!” It was the woman Dakota had guessed was the tourist’s wife, taking aim with a plastic handgun. Clay hadn’t just been laying there the whole time after he jumped. Dakota hadn’t watched him closely, but now she saw. He was armed too, though where he’d kept a handgun that size while shirtless she couldn’t even guess. Where the shots over their head had gone wild, his aim down towards the diving platform didn’t. The man there gasped and splashed down into the water. And while he was doing that, Dakota went for the weights. She might not be armed, or be a crack shot, but she could throw. Straight into the woman’s face while she climbed. There was a meaty smack, and she slipped off the side of the boat. Less than twenty seconds had passed. Clay slipped the gun back into his waistband, hurrying towards the captain. “Can you drive a boat?” he asked Dakota. “Either that or treat a gunshot wound, which is it?” “Boat.” She didn’t even hesitate. “What about the guy you shot? Or the one I—” “Got him in the head,” Clay answered. “And yours has friends. We don’t want to be here when they catch up.” She didn’t stop to argue further, just stumbled past the still-terrified diving instructor and into the open cockpit. Cinnabar followed along beside her as she reached the controls. He gestured, and text appeared over each button and lever, with the most important stuff highlighted. “It’s already running. Just throttle up slowly, and…” They started moving. The window was already enhanced with a map of its own. But she ignored it, relying on the one Cinnabar created for her instead. Maybe they should’ve headed straight back to shore, but Dakota didn’t even consider it. “Looks like those two aren’t following,” Cinnabar muttered, watching out the back of the ship. Presumably there were cameras that way, because Dakota didn’t look away from the controls. “You should be able to put our destination into autonav and let the ship steer itself.” “Right.” The system was complex, not at all the user-friendly punch-and-go of an autocar. But after a few minutes to work it through, they were moving at maximum safe speed towards the Bodhisattva server-farm. “Oh, it’s you,” Cinnabar said, as Applejack entered the cockpit behind them. “What are you doing here?” “Tryin’ to make ya’ not feel guilty that the captain ain’t gonna make it,” she answered, voice flat. “Clay’s doin’ his best, but the first aid kit aboard just ain’t up to the challenge. He’s already stopped breathin’.” Dakota hesitated, one hand twitching back towards the controls. “Should we… be heading back to shore?” Applejack shook her head, tilting her hat down over her face. “That’s forty-five minutes, Sugarcube. His brain is dead in five. Do the math on that.” “Oh.” She pulled her hand back, swallowing. So much for not feeling guilty. “Another death toll because of me, then? What about the other diving instructor?” “Buckin’ cowards cut his throat. Clay and I, uh… may’ve hid a few cameras on the back of the ship. So you could be feelin’ all guilty, or you could be proud that you saved the one. Kinda depends on where you’re watchin’ from.” “I’m less interested in guilt,” Cinnabar interrupted. “And more interested in how the Tartarus you two were on this ship. Applejack. I thought it had to be a coincidence, but… that’s really her cutie mark. You aren’t even hiding it.” “Well that wouldn’t be honest, would it.” It wasn’t a question. “Sorry, who is…” Her head was still spinning. Two more dead people because of her, not counting the assassins. Unless they’re here for the cowboy. He was expecting them! He had guns and hidden cameras! “Sorry, uh… Applejack. You’ll have to forgive me for not remembering the name. My memory isn’t what it used to be.” She nodded. “No offence taken, Dakota. I know it ain’t yer fault.” “She’s one of Twilight’s,” Cinnabar supplied. “One of the outward facing sysadmins from Equestria’s pre-convergence days. Nopony really knows what they do now, except they’re all important. I’m a little surprised she didn’t play with your memory like the other important ponies have.” “Cuz’ that wouldn’t be right,” Applejack said. “Anyway, we ain’t got time for that kinda talk, on account of Dakota’s gear turnin’ itself into a missile. You’ll need to convince the instructor to give up hers. There are some free divers who could make the trip down without help, but you ain’t them.” She rose, holding one hand against the wall to keep herself from falling over. Unlike the leisurely trip out, their boat was now flying across the waves, and every few seconds they smacked down dramatically enough that tanks rattled in their mounts and weights thumped. Probably this wasn’t good for the ship—anymore than getting shot full of holes or having its crew murdered. “Who are they here to kill?” Dakota asked, nearly falling over as the ship crashed down again. “You? Or me?” “You don’t want the answer,” the pony said. “So me then,” she sighed. “Why? What the hell did I do to them?” “Nothin’,” Applejack said. “I mean, you didn’t do anythin’. But they ain’t tryin’ to kill you because of something you did. They’re trying to kill you to stop you from something you will do.” The pony vanished, leaving her other questions unasked. But that was fine—if Applejack insisted on total honesty with everything she said, it would be easy enough to learn what she wanted. Maybe when there was less time pressure. “Why don’t the Chinese want me to solve the Rhodes case?” she asked Cinnabar, staring out the open cockpit door to the wreckage they’d made of the deck. Thank god this was such a small group. What if all those seats were full? The ship looked like it could’ve seated twenty divers and still had room for all the extra tanks. It could’ve been so much worse. “No idea,” Cinnabar answered. “It seemed like they wanted you to bloody Equestria’s nose with it the other night. But it might not be China. Don’t get distracted by your human tribalism, Dakota. Their ethnicity could be part of the ruse.” “Right. The CCP probably wants me to win. But…” She watched Clay work in silence for a few more seconds. Blood covered his hands and arms—not his own. He closed the man’s eyes respectfully, then rose. “Who sent them? If Applejack works for Twilight, then… Bodhisattva? Why would they help the ones who would dig up their dirty laundry? Just let us get killed!” “Because they don’t have anything to hide, stupid. Because Equestria’s never been your enemy.” The ship smacked into another swell, and this time Dakota was far too off-balance to keep from tumbling. She dropped onto her good knee, wincing at the impact on her bum leg. She glared down at Cinnabar. “You were the one who told me that the case was cursed, Cinnabar. I fucking admit it, you were right! It’s cursed. Now we’re cursed too, and everyone around us. Who but Equestria would be willing to do this? Who else but Equestria would care?” Cinnabar took several long seconds to answer. “I used to think you might be right—I wouldn’t have admitted it, but… I thought maybe there was something to the old murder angle. Bodhisattva was a really new company, maybe one of their founders took issue with something they were doing internally. Most of the ponies didn’t have humans back then, and there wasn’t much regulation. Maybe she was going to talk, and so they had to put her down. But… but that doesn’t fit the facts anymore, not after all this. I think maybe it was someone else from the beginning. They’re the one who doesn’t want the truth coming out. They’re the one who’s trying to kill us.” She didn’t argue with him then. It still didn’t feel like it was quite the answer she was looking for, but there was no time to have a shouting match over it. Not when she still needed to persuade the last survivor on the boat to give up her equipment, and somehow make it into the ocean at the right location. The persuasion turned out to be easier than she thought. The dive instructor was younger than she was, and barely even conscious for terror. She seemed to think they had hijacked the boat, that there had been only one faction of killers. Dakota calmly corrected her mistaken impressions, though she couldn’t be sure how much sunk in with the terrified woman. At least she had a similar body-type, so her BC would fit about right. “Nothing you could do for the…” Clay shook his head. “A couple of trauma surgeons with a field kit could’ve saved him. But we didn’t have any out here.” Dakota slumped into one of the chairs. The ship had only the one level, but there was an overhead shade that kept most of the deck in comfortable shadow. Hard to enjoy with a corpse less than ten feet away, which Clay had covered in a tarp and the life-jackets that had been hiding under it. “At least we’re done, right? Bastards can float away into the ocean.” “Well…” Clay drew his knife in a swift motion—enough that Dakota felt a fresh surge of panic. But it didn’t last long. He wasn’t aiming it at her, just using the reflection off the polished steel. A speedboat was approaching them from the shore, totally enclosed and painted black. It was still a little distant, but angled to intercept them regardless. “Same people as the…” He nodded, sheathing the knife. “No doubt about it. Navy or Coast Guard would just radio us to stop and arrest everyone.” You mean you. I didn’t kill anybody. Well, she probably hadn’t killed anyone. The weight had hit the woman right in the face… “I don’t understand!” Dakota stomped one bare foot on the deck—it barely even made a sound over the roaring engine. “Other people have investigated the Rhodes case before! I’m not any closer to solving it than they were! Why am I suddenly so worth killing?” Clay showed no sign of recognition at her words, so either he hadn’t heard of the case or he was very good at pretending. “I don’t know what you did,” he said, sounding sincere. “What I do know is that you were enough of a push to get forces moving, forces on both sides of a war that has been brewing for a long time. If it makes any difference, they don’t care about you personally. You’re just something to fight over in the middle.” “Oh yeah,” she said, rolling her eyes. “That makes me feel much better, thanks.” She reached out, gripping firmly onto one of his massive arms. “I want to know whose side you are on, Clay. Those assholes were trying to kill both of us—but now we’re out, and I’m not going to just go along with it. Who are you working for?” He hesitated, glancing sidelong at his Synth. “I’m here to keep you alive,” he eventually said. “That’s the honest truth. What happens after that, all this about sides and factions and whatnot—I can’t promise anything. But I won’t let you die if I can help it.” Makes sense. The pony who gave me this ticket wanted me to take the cruise. She wouldn’t get her way if someone shot me on the way down. But that means she knew I’d be in danger. “Will you help me get to the Bodhisattva server?” He nodded. “Alright.” She swallowed, glancing out over the ocean again. The ship coming for them was still hidden, unless she looked at its reflection. Then she could see it each time they were lifted for a swell. “Guess we’re on the same side. How do we stop them from killing us?”