//------------------------------// // Ch.27: Screeching Steel // Story: Tapestry: A World Apart // by Star Scraper //------------------------------// Sunfeather was thrown onto the cold metal floor, her shackles clanging as she crashed. The heavy metal door slammed shut behind her, leaving her alone in the dark as the sound of boots marched away. “I-I - Governor Spectrum will save me again...” She whimpered again as she curled in a ball, no response except for the endless clanking of the train running over its tracks. The desperate hope that the Governor would somehow rescue her again was all she had left as the world spun around her. It was cold, and she started to shiver, but was too scared to ask for a blanket. And she knew they wouldn't give her one. “Ar-are y-you okay, miss?” a sharp pang of pain hit her head as a weak, female voice spoke from the back of the dark cell. Sunfeather sniffed and looked up, opening her eyes. She could only make out an outline in the darkness. “Who-who are you?” she croaked, wiping the tears out of her eyes to see better. The pain in her head sharpened. “A-a lot of ponies call me 'dummy'...” the voice said, tapering off. She felt something new. She was tired of being thrown around, of her life shooting away from her grasp. She wanted to scream at it, to buck it, to tell it to stop shoving her around, to stop kicking her and beating her and – I don't want what other ponies call you, I want your name! “But what's your real name?” “B-Brighteyes.” A bubbly happiness crept into her surprised response. “T-thank you for asking!”, but the cheerful tone was quickly replaced with worry; “Are you... Going to get taken away? Why did you get sent here?” You're one to ask! Why are you here!? Why am I having such angry thoughts? “I... I...” She couldn't bring herself to say it. She remembered telling the guards she was Governor Spectrum's property – under her protection – then their response, “This goes over her head,” and nothing else. She remembered years ago, when the taskmaster of the palace had told her a lazy second-class slave wasn't worth her food. Then being thrown in a cell, and told she'd be spared the agony of starvation with a quicker death. Despite the years, she remembered with clarity how the governor had personally visited her, and the questions she asked – how she actually cared and listened, then saved her life. “This goes over her head,” she remembered the words again, still struggling to understand them. “I-it's okay, miss...” Brighteyes started in a gentle voice, pulling Sunfeather back out of her thoughts. Sunfeather bit her lip, her ears flattening against her head. An angry shout formed on her tongue, ready to attack the liar for downplaying her pain. Like waiting to be executed was okay. “-It's not that bad as long as they only do it once.” “Wh-what?” she asked, disbelief causing her anger to slip away for a moment. “I-I - y-you see, they... uh...” The pause was excruciating. Everything in her wanted her to snap; “Because what!?”, but she kept herself silent, but only barely. Why am I thinking like this?! Because she's not going to die but I – she still refused to think it directly – I'm sitting here charged with high treason and she wants ME to pity HER? Brighteyes went quiet, unable to meet Sunfeather's eyes anymore. “I-I'm sorry...” she quietly apologized. You were telling me something useful! But now you're just going to stop- Sunfeather! Stop it! How can you think that? It scared her to hear her mind turn so violent. She felt her hooves tense, wanting to give Brighteyes a black eye for not finishing what she was saying. Under Governor Spectrum directly, she'd gotten used to controlling her own life. But now, without warning, it had all been stripped away. She wanted to buck and bite on to what little control she had left. Brighteyes will not sit there keeping her secrets to herself after asking ME to explain why I'm here! She felt her teeth clench. Confusion spilled over her. She felt her mind plummet into an agonizing fit of helplessness, fear and anger. She hated herself for her newfound temper, she was terrified of what she felt, she was scared for her life, she wanted to fight and run – from the cell, from her feelings, from everything. She felt her legs shaking – she just wanted to collapse on the ground and cry as her throbbing head spun and tears ran down her face. But she was cornered, fettered and trapped in a cell, she couldn't run, so her anger pent up and wanted to strike whatever she could. And she saw something in front of her. A quietly crying pony. She knew what she had to do. I-I can't! I'm too weak to control myself! I'm too sore and tired – they're just going to kill us anyways, what does it matter!? If the world is going to do this to me, then this is what it gets! She shook as she fought herself. How could you, Sunfeather, how could you!? But she struggled with the despair with every pounding beat of her heart. All her agony, confusion, pain and self-hate melted away in two sentences: No. She needs me. Her mind was made. In defiance to all she thought possible, she managed a few steps towards the huddled figure, her chains clanging as she walked. As her eyes adjusted, she saw more clearly. Brighteyes' light gray coat was bruised, and her shackles bolted into the wall. The blond-maned pegasus flinched as Sunfeather approached, and her cries grew loud, “I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I – they-they beat me because-” “It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you.” She felt tears well in her own eyes, now for a different reason. It was a new feeling, yet again, but it overwhelmed her. She felt like she wanted to wrap the abused pony in her hooves. Brighteyes broke from her sobbing. “Y-you aren't going to beat me?” “Of course not.” “B-but... but they all do...” I almost became like all the other prisoners. Of course they all feel helpless and angry. I did, too. But I just... didn't act on it. “I won't.” “Do you promise?” “I promise.” “W-will you...” She remembered what Snowfeather had done for her, and how it had made her feel. This pegasus needed the same. “I'll be your friend.” Immediately a pang of anger hit her again. You'll stoop right down to her level?! You have one chance to be better than somepony else – ONE chance to not be on the bottom! One chance to not give up what little you have left! It's time to push back! Don't you dare let them put you on the bottom! Look at this pathetic creature! You're not as stupid and meek as her! You'll both be dead soon, anyways, what does it even matter? You've been nothing but a grovelling slave and look where it's gotten you! It's time to step up and fight back! Stop it, stop it! I'm not like that! I could never! Her pounding head spun. All her pain returned. Her legs clenched. You'll just get angry again and again and nothing you ever do will stop it. You won't be able to hold it back forever – you never had to face me before – you don't know what it's like to hold anger back! I'll just keep coming back until you bow to my will! Give up now and save yourself the fight! You're about to die – why keep fighting? Just give up! Nothing matters now! You're already dead! Learn what it's like to be in control for once in your miserable, bottom-feeding life you stupid slave! Just- She jumped forward, hooves out, and wrapped the gray pegasus in a hug. It was her only hope against the unwelcome barrage of thoughts. Then, something happened. In the midst of her despair, she felt a small spark of warmth inside of her. She had done what was right, and that was all that mattered. She didn't need a blanket for warmth, not when Brighteyes was there. “Th-thank you...” Brighteyes whispered into her ear. There were no dry eyes in the cell. They, however, were not afraid. It was a very different thing than fear that they felt. “It'll be okay, Brighteyes... Everything always turns out okay...” Somehow, she believed it. The new feeling came back again and crashed over her. It was similar to how she felt nourishing and loving the plants of her garden, only so much stronger she couldn't bear it. It didn't matter to her if she died, now, or how she might be interrogated with her groundless charge of treason. She didn't even wonder who had accused her or why – she didn't care. She wondered why Brighteyes was here, but didn't want to ask her if the question hurt her so much. She felt something she'd never seen among the highest nobles and leaders in the world. She had something that the High Command itself could never dream of holding. A nobility that no power over armies and courts could grant. Something, that if only to glimpse it for a fleeting moment, made every bit of suffering in her life worthwhile. At that moment, knowing she was waiting for execution with no recourse but a desperate hope, she realized she wasn't on the bottom of the world as her furious thoughts had told her - but on the top. She pitied the high officers of The Order, who would never know such a feeling. No sooner had Snowglade, the sergeant and Clockwork returned, crashing next to Grandeur, than they again heard the terrible roaring of aircraft in the distance. The hazy white spotlights of one, then another, and another all passed by through the darkness. “Trigger one!” The sergeant ordered. Snowglade grunted, her horn flared with light, and a moment later one of the aircraft was enveloped in a brilliant orange flash as burning pieces fell to the ground. Just as command had promised, a bomb had been planted in the escort aircraft set for her signal. There was no time to wonder how they had gotten the right aircraft on the right assignment on the right time. A thunderous bang overtook them moments after the wreckage crashed into the ice, leaving their ears ringing. The other two aircraft continued as if nothing happened for several long moments, before the big white spots of light finally vanished in the distance. “Fifteen seconds! Snowglade, don't screw it up – remember last two cars! Ignore everything else!” the sergeant ordered. “Yessir!” she confirmed, closing her eyes, her horn now glowing with its invisible, arcane light. With her eyes closed, and her horn focusing on electrical magic, she could see pings of electrical 'light' on the distant metal train, everywhere some electrical device used the train's metal structure for grounding a current. She could also see the wire out to the shaped charge they'd left on the tracks. “It's just like in the exercise – I can see everything!” she reported. Soon they could hear it clearly. She focused intensely, the pings of 'light' painted an incomplete picture, but she could guess about where the last two cars were. She waited until the wire was almost under them, then yalped as her horn flared and she fired the shaped charge. In a bright flash the package under the train erupted in a blinding yellowish-white light. The train buckled and screeched as the last two cars derailed. Though they disappeared, crashing into the darkness, the screeching of tearing metal was deafening. It sounded like two water towers wrestling on the ice. “Trigger two!” she cried. “Good blast! Charge went off as designed!” she reported, shouting over the noise. “Grandeur, Gratitude, follow from long distance! Guards from the train will be coming on us in less than a minute, don't get caught! Rest of you, let's go, rifles ready, go, go, go!” the sergeant stood up and sprinted off into the darkness. The noise of a battle of shrieking steel and ice finally came to a rest. Snowglade and Clockwork sprang close by their sergeant, all three running towards where the sounds had stopped. “Clockwork, take point – Snowglade, keep that magic sense going! Update us on whatever you see!” “Yessir!” they both answered. The pegasus stallion gave a flying dart into the lead, while Snowglade's horn started a gentle glow. She used her electric magic again to search for the familiar current in the train cars. The 'lights' were flickering and blinking in a confused mess. “I – I can't make anything out! Too much metal! – or – it's full of echoes from the crash! Or – I dunno – I just can't tell what's in there!” After a few more seconds of running, she piped up again - “A little to the left, Clockwork!” She directed. “Shoot anypony on sight that's not the governor! She'll know everything they know and more. A Cyan pegasus with white mane, don't forget!” the sergeant ordered. “Yessir,” they both replied. Snowglade took a rifle with a bayonet off her back, holding it in front of her with her magic. The fallen cars quickly became visible through the dark, icy mist. Two train cars, still coupled together, laid on their side on the ice, their roofs just a dozen yards out and facing the Cerulean team. There was an indoor gangway between them, but its roof was torn open, spilling out a bright patch of flickering, yellow light. “Clock, get in the air and tell me if the top-side of the cargo car is open!” He shot into the air, then dove back down. “There's a big sliding door. Looks closed and locked.” “Is it armored heavily?” he continued to the pegasus, no longer shouting, but now whispering in the sudden silence the crashing train cars had left. “Yessir.” “Then go bang on it, nice and loud. Keep anyone inside distracted.” “Yessir!” He shot up, landing on the cargo car and setting to his obnoxious work. “Snowglade, go to the right side of the cargo car,” he nodded towards the far end of the wreck, then reached in his saddlebags, “when you hear me kick the door down in the gangway, pop in and shoot anyone who's holding a gun. Take these,” he produced four small hoof-sized devices. “Yessir!” she replied, taking the explosives. The whole thing was just like the rehearsals they'd done in the training fields under Bastion – she knew what to do with the charges. She immediately ran to the far end of the train car across the ice, timing her hoofsteps with Clockwork's banging on the top-side. The door was easily identifiable – heavily armored and its locking mechanism coated with magic-reflecting paint. But with the train car on its side, it was high in the air. Fortunately, there was a large handle bar on either side of it, the lower one just within reach. When it came time to storm in, climbing would cost her vital moments, but she had her orders. She used her magic to plant a magnetically-sticking charge on the locking mechanism, and three where she knew the hinges would be, again timing her acts to coincide with Clockwork's banging. Her magic cast a ghostly green glow of the special arcane light only visible to unicorns. She could see her breath in the biting cold as she worked. She cleared off to the side, huddling behind the train's undercarriage, then waited. Long moments passed with her heart racing in her ears. Painful moments with nothing to do but wait. Moments she had time to wonder if guards from the train would catch up to them – if the airplanes would turn around instead of fleeing like Command had promised they would – moments to realize the delay that climbing cost her would surely be fatal – moments to wonder if she'd die before she got the chance to see Grandeur again. Moments to feel small and scared. Then she heard a loud bang from the far side of the car as the sergeant kicked it down, and reflexively she set off the charges. The bang shook her body and filled the area with black smoke. She ran into it, climbed up the burning hot, bent metal to look into the open doorway, rifle ready. She saw some vague figure in the darkness and shot. Just as she dropped back to cover, she realized the figure hadn't dropped when she shot it. “No drop, no drop! He's still standing!” she screeched in panic and cycled her bolt-action rifle, chambering another round. After a long moment, she heard him, “Snowglade, use your horn! Any life in this car!?” he asked. She didn't have time to wonder why she didn't think of it – she just immediately obeyed, closing her eyes and focusing on her magic again. She saw nothing but a tiny, bright ping – not a pony's heartbeat, but the magic of some enchanted item. “I – nothing! No heartbeats in this car!” she called out. She felt relieved, but was still shaking. She perked an ear as she heard him move – she could tell he was looking inside the train car – trusting his life to her judgement – checking her claim with his own life rather than asking her to verify with her eyes. “Misidentification!” he called. “It's clear! Get over here!” he ordered her. “And quit that knocking!” he barked up to the pegasus, who immediately stopped. “Entering!” she announced and clambered up to the doorway again, putting the rifle back on her back, afraid of accidentally shooting the sergeant. “What are you-” before he could finish, she was inside. Some light spilled in from the gangway the sergeant waited in, but cast deep shadows lit only by a lantern he held. The cargo car was a mess of large crates, some straps and a wool blanket scattered around. Among the shadows, now lit by the sergeant's lantern, a bag sat with a spray of fruit guts behind where Snowglade had shot it. She looked up at him, confused. With the car on its side, the doorway he looked through was high off the floor – what was supposed to be the wall. “Nevermind that, come on, quickly, and tell me if there's anything interesting in here.” She checked with her magic and felt the ping again – the presence of some enchanted item. She could tell exactly where it was – it only took a moment for her to use her magic to open one of the crates and slip the item out in her telekinesis – an emerald necklace with a thin, gold chain. “What's that? Explain,” the sergeant ordered. She held it in her magic beside her as she continued climbing over the crates to get to him. “It's something enchanted, sir, but I don't know what the enchantment is.” The fear was palpable in her voice. She was still shaking from the mis-identification moments ago. “Fine, bag it.” She slipped it into a saddlebag. As she reached under him, he held out a hoof. She took it, and he pulled her up into the gangway. As she entered it, the smell of gasoline fumes overpowered her. She looked up at him. Terror kept her from thinking – all she could do was obey his orders. She trusted his experience – knew he would get her through this alive, whatever waited in the other train car. She was still trembling, her eyes wide with terror, but she looked up to him. The moment was as brief as it was sudden, and ended just as quickly. He whispered to her urgently, “Okay, Clockwork's got perimeter, you go to the far side of the Luxury car and we'll do the same thing as last time. Don't let them hear you running across the ice! Now go, you've got thirty seconds!” “Yessir!” she immediately left through the tear in the roof of the gangway, counting in her head. When she reached the far side she saw the damage her explosive charge had done – the metal was torn in a clean hole right in the middle of where it used to be coupled to the next car, with far less clean torn and warped shafts off each side. Once again, she would have to climb. And just like the gangway the sergeant was in, somehow these lights were still on. And once again, she waited for long, agonizing moments. This time, she could barely think. She barely even noticed the smell of seared flesh. Then she heard the noise – the bang of the sergeant kicking the door down – but it didn't sound quite right. She reacted, climbing over the lip of the torn hole in the train car with her forelimbs, holding the rifle just beside her head in her magic so she could see down the sights. She saw a carpeted room on its side – three uniformed soldiers – two lying limp – one sitting up with a rifle, turned towards a door beside him. He turned to her, pointing his rifle her way. She heard a distant gunshot from another room in the traincar. She fired, his body in the middle of her sights. He recoiled with a sickening thunk and groan and fired. She felt a whip of air and a loud snap by her face. He fell limp. She felt a cold breeze across the side of her head. She clambered the rest of the way into the room to free her forelegs – the stench of burnt flesh was much stronger – she felt her face with a hoof and drew it away – there was no blood. She quickly realized the breeze was literally just a breeze – he'd blown a hole in her hood, but nothing more. She took a short moment to look at the carnage – three bodies. The two lying down had burnt chunks torn in their uniforms, and the third she'd just shot was just slumped in place. She'd heard stories of how shooting someone in the lungs would result in a long, horrible death. But she didn't feel glad she'd struck right in his heart, or horrified she'd killed him – she didn't have time to feel anything before she heard her sergeant call out, “Snowglade, report!”. It was distant and muffled, from a room or two away. “Target down! Room's clear!” she shouted in response without a thought, loud as she could to be heard. The doorway was next to the guard she'd just killed. On its side and very narrow, she'd have to take off her backpack and crawl to get through. She looked at the body again. “Contact in the bedroom!” Courageous Fate yelled. “Yessir!” she answered, and immediately threw her backpack off, laid on the ground, lifted the sideways door open and crawled into the narrow hallway, trying to be as quiet as possible. Part of her from training knew how this would work – what to do. She wasn't even consciously aware of it – she was too panicked and shocked to think, she acted on the reflexes that had been drilled into her. She reached the end of the tiny, sideways hall and held both the doorknob and her readied rifle in her magic. Then she heard it – the sergeant kicking the door down again. She threw her door open with her telekinesis – it was a heavy, armored door as they had all been. As the door lifted, she saw him – the contact – and time ran slow. He was sitting with his back against the far wall – a light blue stallion officer with darker blue hair and green eyes looking straight into hers over the sights of a pistol aimed straight at her head. He flinched as a bullet entered his shoulder from above, and he fired. She felt a deafening zing as a bullet ricocheted off the armored door over her head – she heard both the bangs of his pistol and the sergeant's rifle, and felt a stinging slap to her back, on her shoulder blade. She hadn't even fired her own rifle. Sergeant Courageous Fate dropped on top of the contact, screaming a warcry as he repeatedly stabbed him with his bayonet. “Govern-” his final cry was cut short. Snowglade was stunned with the surreal question, am I hit? as she still felt the slap in her back. She tried crawling a little further forward to leave the cramped hallway. But as she tried to take another breath, she immediately had her answer. The left side of her chest felt an eruption of fire and her attempted breath turned into a violent bloody cough that seized her entire body. She coughed up blood like a nearly-drowned pony coughed up water. “Snowglade!” The sergeant immediately yelled. As she tried to breathe again it felt like she was breathing warm, salty, metallic-flavored water. She didn't see anything anymore – she could hardly even feel the sergeant grabbing her and dragging her back through the tiny hallway as he ordered her to survive. All she knew was the agony of struggling to breathe as a faucet of blood filled her lungs.