//------------------------------// // Chapter 7 // Story: The Dusk Guard Saga: Hunter/Hunted // by Viking ZX //------------------------------// “Ugh.” Hunter blinked, trying to drive away the sticky, molasses-like sensation behind his eyes. “How did Bolt do this for three days?” He took another quick look around the cockpit, holding back a yawn. Outside the glass, the sun was rising. Or, at least, he assumed it was. There was enough light coming through the clouds that he didn’t feel like he was blind anymore. The yawn won out, forcing its way past his muzzle and sounding out across the cockpit. He slumped back, one hoof idly coming down to smack against the control board with a faint thud. Granted, she probably gets more sleep at it than I have. He let his tired eyes slide over to the bunk. Sky Bolt had told him to use it to catch sleep in small bursts, but between his worry that something actually would go wrong and the constant battering of The Hummingbird by the endless storms, he’d barely been able to sleep a wink. The few times he’d managed to finally nod off, he’d been awoken within minutes by the timer so that he could check the airship’s course. And speaking of time … There was a small, dialed clock on the control board. Several of them, actually, but the one he was interested in was the one keeping track of Canterlot time, since they were still in the same rough time zone. Just after five. I hope Sky Bolt was rapped to get that break, because I really want to sleep right now. He set his eyes on the distant mountains, almost invisible through the thickening storm. Were they that hard to see last night? He checked the compass. We haven’t drifted that far. So no. A frown shifted across his muzzle. They are harder to see. Lovely. The snow was getting thicker. Thicker and more crook every day, he thought as another gust rattled the airship, followed by a crack of distant thunder. The sky looked even more unwelcome than before, the clouds thicker and darker than he’d ever seen them. And there’s no way this is natural, he thought as he squinted, making out the distant whorls and spirals of multiple, competing weather systems. The thick clouds almost looked like mountains themselves, powerful and domineering. Mountains carved from thick, black stone, however, rather than the blue and white ice of the Crystal Peaks. “And shifting,” he said aloud as one of the clouds lit from within, another distant crack rolling across the plains. The thunderhead was warping, twisting in ways that would have made a day-to-day weather team fly for help. So naturally, we’re flying around underneath it. We must all be starkers. They could get above it, possibly. Bolt had rigged the airship with a pressurization system, and though its use was limited, it was likely the way she engineered things that The Hummingbird could clear the cloud cover with ease. But then they’d be blind to the ground, and to any sign of the very thing they’d been sent looking for. Hunter let out a sigh, letting his hoof clop against the control board once more. “Bored … bored … tired … bored.” A nearby crack of lightning made him flinch, The Hummingbird shaking under the sound of the strike, and he revised his meandering. “Alarmed … bored … bored … tired … bored.” He snapped his jaw shut, teeth snapping against one another with a sharp clack. There has got to be a better way for me to keep from cracking a fruity, he thought as another sharp crack echoed across the sky,a vivid bolt of lightning arcing across the clouds above them. This one had come after the flash, however, rather than with it. Further away. It was still unsettling. I should have brought a book. Something to keep my mind off of the storm. Bolt had assured him that the airship was layered with the best precautions against being hit by a bolt of lightning that one could buy, but the nearby snap kept stealing his attention. Especially since they do seem to be getting more violent, he thought as he checked the altimeter. Or closer. Or maybe both. The airship was still holding the same altitude it had when Bolt had left him the night before but … He leaned forward, trying to peer up and around the underside of the envelope. Those clouds definitely feel closer. He eyed the rippled shapes, shifting and spinning in rapid eddies, churning like a dark, inverted ocean. For a moment the cabin was lit by a brilliant flash of white, another bolt arcing through the clouds and leaving him blinking away spots, and then another roar swept across The Hummingbird, shaking it. That’s not good. He shook his head, clearing away the spots from his eyes. Thankfully, pegasi eyes adjusted a little quicker, and in moments he was casting his gaze out on the storm again. That’s really not good. While he wasn’t close to a weather pony, even he could see that there was something wrong about the way the clouds were moving. Where ordinary storms would have merged into one, something in the sky—magic, ancient spells, chaos, who knew what—was somehow keeping the mass above them separate. Where each storm rubbed up against another he could see clouds tearing, ripping as the storms fought against one another. Small spirals of cloud tuft spun and ground against the edges, turning and finally subsiding as newer chunks of each storm tore free. Elsewhere, an electrical charge built up, lightning arcing across the gap and through one of the clouds. And the barometer is still sliding down, he thought, his eyes checking the small instrument on the side of the control board. Not by much, but it’s definitely gone down. His eyes slid to the nearby clock, and he nodded and moved a small notched piece of metal on the side of the barometer down slightly, noting the time on the clock and changing a ring around the edge to the current hour. And … back to boredom with brief moments of terror. And worry. Another gust of wind roared over the airship, the cockpit shaking as the whole ship rattled, dropped a few feet, and then rattled some more. Getting around on hoof today is going to be tricky if the wind keeps getting worse. He checked the controls once more, confirming that the airship was still holding steady on its course. Just moving around the cabins is going to get tricky. Which probably meant it was a good thing he’d made them the fried bread the night before, when things had been relatively stable. We can lock the pots and pans to the galley stove, he thought as a sudden force pressed him down against his seat, The Hummingbird rising on another gust before settling. And we can lock the lids. But you can’t fry something that can’t stay in the oil. Not to mention it’d be almost suicidal to use boiling hot oil with the ship bouncing like this. Which meant they were either going to have to limit themselves to simple things … or break out the rationed mixes Dawn had requested. Some of which were fine—he’d always had a soft spot for a good granola bar, especially if there was chocolate in it—but some of which went straight into unappetizing. Whatever “kale” was, he was fairly certain it had never been meant for consumption by intelligent beings. The Hummingbird dropped again, his mane lifting slightly as the winds pushed it down, and a sharp thump against the cockpit door made his ears flick. A moment later, the airship stabilized once more, there was a soft click as someone undid the latch, and he turned just as the door slid to one side. “Morning, Hunter,” Sky Bolt said as she stepped into the cockpit, her wings slightly flared for balance and giving her the appearance that she was going to take off at any moment. The night off he’d given her had definitely left its mark: The bags under her eyes that had been taking shape had vanished, and there was a lightness to her step that spoke volumes about how much energy she’d regained. That, or she’d found a stash of cupcakes somewhere and was riding the sugar train. Then again, it could be both. “Morning, Bolt. How’d you sleep?” he asked, moving to his left and giving her room to take the pilot’s seat. “No, don’t get up yet,” she said, waving a hoof for him to stay in place as she slid the cockpit door shut. “I just want to take a look at things. I’m not ready to take the seat back yet unless something’s gone wrong. And I slept like a foal, thank you.” “With all the shaking we’ve been doing?” he asked, moving a bit more to the side as Bolt stretched over the instrument panel, her eyes darting from readout to readout. “Eh, I’ve slept in far worse,” she said, ears folding back against her skull as she turned and looked out the window, then back at the controls. “This storm is picking up though, isn’t it?” “It’s dropped lower too,” he said, nodding. “And I just took another barometer reading. Still dropping.” “Yikes.” Bolt stretched over to his side of the console, her body held above the controls only by the tips of her wings. Looks like all those wing-strengthening exercises are paying off, he thought as Bolt, satisfied with her observations, leaned back to the far side, standing on her hind legs with forehooves atop the console. Again she turned and looked out the glass, her head tilting back as she stared at the thick, dark clouds above them. “Wow,” she said as another jagged fork of lightning crawl across the sky. “There’s like … six different storms up there. And that’s just what I can see. It makes no sense.” “Makes for some lousy weather, too.” The Hummingbird shook once more, another gust of wind jerking it. “And getting worse.” “Yeah,” Bolt said, flicking her sky-blue mane out from in front of her eyes. “All right, here’s what I want you to do.” He felt his ears lay flat against his head as he pulled back. “Me? I thought you were relieving me.” “Not yet,” Bolt said, glancing back out at the outside and then flashing him a smile. “Relax. It’s not that bad. I just want you to drop us down another hundred, two-hundred feet. Try to find something smooth. Me, I’m going to go back and check out the boilers, make sure there aren’t any maintenance surprises I need to take care of.” “Oh,” he said, blinking more sand out of his eyes. “That does make sense, yeah.” I didn’t even think about how she’s running this thing like a one-mare crew. “Maybe in the future we should look into having someone else in the team that knows what to look for.” “Believe me, it’s on the list,” Bolt said, stepping back from the controls and putting a hoof on the door latch. “But it’s a pretty big list. It’s on there, but …” She shrugged. “Roam wasn’t built in a day.” “Well, technically it was, at least when they were the wandering city. But you could argue that was a process that took years to—” “Right, checking on the mechanics now,” Bolt said, the latch coming undone with a faint click. “Drop us down and level out. Nice and gentle. If you panic, don’t.” Then she was stepping out of the cockpit, the door sliding shut behind her. “On it,” he said, grinning as he turned back to the controls. Only for his grin to fade as swiftly as some of the snowflakes alighting themselves on the cockpit glass. “Right. Down two-hundred feet.” The Hummingbird rattled again as he eased his focus over the instruments, running his mind through the list of instructions Bolt had carefully run him through over the prior few days. Just a gentle— The airship shook again, another gust of wind sending it sliding to one side, jerking him against the side of his seat. For given values of gentle, he corrected, descent. Slowly, and with care, he reached over and disengaged a safety lock on one of the levers, then gave it a small, downward tug. Too small? he wondered, his eyes darting between his hoof, the snow-laden winds outside the cockpit, and the altimeter. But then, slowly but surely, the altimeter began to drop. Very slowly. Works for me, he thought, leaving his hoof on the lever. Slow and— A distant flash lit the landscape, each particle of snow momentarily becoming a spotlight in the early dawn. A sharp crack split the air in its wake, shaking The Hummingbird before echoing back off of the distant mountains as a dull, rumbling roar. Steady, he finished as the cockpit stopped shaking. Slow and steady. Better to do it right than make a mistake. If Bolt were here, or the weather not so disagreeable … Another click echoed through the cockpit, the door sliding to one side. Hoof still on the lever, he turned to see Nova stepping through, each hoofstep taken with obvious care as The Hummingbird shook again. He cocked his head as his eyes fixed on Hunter, a surprised look on his face, but waited until he had shut the door behind him to speak. “Sky Bolt hasn’t relieved you yet? I thought she was up?” “She is,” Hunter said. “And good morning. But she’s checking on some mechanical stuff in the back. Making sure all this rattling and bouncing hasn’t shaken anything important up.” “Right, morning,” Nova said, hiding a yawn. “Early morning.” “Yeah, tell it to somepony who got sleep,” Hunter said, letting his eyes slip back to the altimeter. They were still dropping, slowly but surely. “Why? Were you looking for her?” “Not her in particular. Just whoever was flying this thing,” Nova replied. “I was wondering if it was going to stay this bumpy.” “Well …” Hunter said as another gust hit the side of the airship, both it and the altimeter swaying up and down. “Ideally not, but if you’ve looked out the windows, we’ve not got much choice in the matter as long as we’re under this storm.” “Drat.” Nova shook his head. “I kind of figured, but that’s still a downer.” “Having trouble sleeping?” “Yeah,” he said with a nod. “I think most of us are. It’s hard to sleep when the world feels like it’s dropping out from underneath you. If this empire ever shows up, we might be too tired to do anything.” “I hope not, but then again at the moment, I wouldn’t be up for any heavy action. At least, not at full capacity.” “You didn’t sleep last night?” He shot Nova a look and the unicorn nodded. “Point taken. If I was having issues …” “What about Sabra?” “Sabra?” Hunter nodded, checking the altimeter again. Halfway there. “Yeah. He sleep all right?” “Actually, he did.” Was he mistaken, or was there a touch of envy to Nova’s voice. “Really?” “Once he turned around, that is.” “Turned arou—Oh.” His mind caught up. “Sky Bolt took my bunk, didn’t she?” “Yup. He was up for about an hour or so after everyone else had fallen asleep—those who could anyway—and then he turned around so his head was facing aft. Woke up Sky Bolt, wrapped a hoof around hers … and he was out.” “Cute.” Those two really have started to depend on one another. Hopefully it wouldn’t be a problem when the team split. “Yeah, but I wasn’t about to try the same thing with Captain Song.” A snort tore itself free of his nostrils, a laugh chasing at its hooves as he turned to look at Nova. The colt was sporting his usual sardonic grin. “Yeah,” Hunter said, shaking his head again. “Maybe if you did one of those disguises, made yourself look like Rapid Cap.” “Which just starts moving into creepy territory,” Nova said, though he was still grinning. “Speaking of which, making yourself look like a mare? Harder than it looks.” His eyebrows rose, even as he flicked his attention back to the altimeter. Nice and steady. Almost halfway there. The air did seem to be smoothing out a little. “You’ve done that?” “Once or twice,” Nova admitted. “It was a lot easier when I was younger. It’s a lot harder when you’re older.” “But you’ve actually done it?” “Like I said, once or twice.” Nova shook his head. “It’s a pain, and it really only works on low-light. Anyone gets a good look at you, and the disguise tends to fall apart pretty quickly. You can only do so much to hide certain features. Like the muzzle,” he added as Hunter let out another snort. “I mean, yeah, that too, but that’s easier to hide with the right pair of saddlebags or clothing.” “So you had to learn this because …?” Nova shrugged. “It’s in the job. Or, was in the job,” he corrected quickly. “I doubt I’ll be doing that for this team anytime soon. But there were some jobs where it was easier to get in and out if you were a mare that looked like she knew what she was doing.” “Huh …” His eyes came back to the altimeter. “You know, I’d honestly never thought about that.” “Which is why it worked,” Nova said, flashing a grin once more. “I mean, it wasn’t easy. Coat dye, mane dye, makeup for contouring …” He shuddered. “It’s a nightmare to make work. But if it gets the job done … Good for creating a fake pony to put the pursuit on too.” “How’d you learn how to do that?” “Necessity,” Nova said, turning his head to shade his eyes as a particularly bright bolt of lightning carved a channel across the sky. The roar came a moment later, the controls vibrating under Hunter’s hooves. “As a young colt it was easier, sometimes, but when I got older and spotted something I knew would fetch a good price that needed a … feminine touch … I snuck into a theater in Baltimare that was doing an old-style Romane Empire production. You know, the kind where all the roles are played by stallions? Snuck in and watched their makeup crew.” “Huh.” He glanced back at Nova, pulling his eyes away from the altimeter. “I wouldn’t have thought of that. And it was all makeup?” “Not all of it,” Nova said, shaking his head. “No one in the audience is going to be bothered by an actor disguising their coat color with a spell for an hour or so, and they have the makeup crew on hoof to recast the magic as needed backstage. But it’s just a quick cover. Some of it was easier to do with makeup.” “But you went with dye instead of magic in case someone noticed the spell.” “Exactly.” “Huh.” He turned his attention back to the altimeter. Almost there. “And it worked?” “Like I said, not easily. Low-light areas and distance were a must. Makeup and adjusting my posture could only do so much to hide a muzzle and other physical differences.” “You ever meet anyone else who tried it?” he asked. “Actually, yes. Going both ways.” Nova shrugged. “Like I said, it worked. I was a pro, though.” There was a hint of pride to his words. “I knew a couple of thieves that used magic as a shortcut and eventually got caught.” Almost there. “Well, learn something new every day, I guess.” “Hey, you knew I knew disguises.” “Yeah,” he admitted. “I did. But honestly, until this moment I’d never actually thought of using them to pretend to be the other gender.” He paused, then frowned. “Wait, hold up a moment. If magic as a disguise can be spotted by a unicorn, why do we have such a hard problem finding changelings?” “Changelings?” Nova shook his head. “That’s actual shapeshifting magic. Like, full on transformational stuff.” “Really? What’s the difference?” “Yeesh,” Nova said, sitting back on his haunches and rubbing at the back of his head with one hoof. “Ask the hard ones, why don’t you.” “If you don’t want to—” “No, I got it,” Nova said quickly. “Just don’t expect the most advanced explanation. But makeup magic? Like changing coat colors and the like? It’s … it’s like putting a temporary coat of paint on something. It’s an illusion, usually. Or an enchantment that adjusts the spectrum of light that is absorbed or emitted. Sometimes, for advanced, high-level magic, it can bend light to make an illusion.” “So makeup and coat change magics are just variants on an illusion.” “Not all of them,” Nova said. “There are cleaning spells, spells to puff a coat up and help it hold a shape, or smooth it down … All kinds of stuff. But in most of those cases, the spell is there, holding that illusion or that shape in place.” “Or the illusion.” “Yeah. It’s a magical construct.” “Okay. So then shapeshifting is …?” “Not an illusion,” Nova said. Then he spread his front hooves in the air in front of him. “And before we go further, I’m not exactly the most magically-educated. So if you want a more detailed answer than what I can provide, you’d have to talk to Dawn. But basically, shape-changing magic is a forced, magical shifting of what a creature’s very core is. It’s taking magic—a lot of magic, and I mean a lot—and actually transforming the very basis of that creature into something new. So it’s not putting a new coat of paint over something, it’s like … magically taking the house down and rebuilding it while still keeping the house intact. Which is why it takes so much magic.” “But once it’s been changed, it stays changed? It doesn’t need anymore magic?” “Sort of. There’s a biological catch to it, though.” Again his hooves came up. “And trust me, I know pretty much none of the details at this point, just the basics. But when you transform something … oh, say you actually had the magic to make a pony into … a griffon. Like I said, it’d take a phenomenal amount of magical power. I might be able to manage something like it someday if I really practice, according to Dawn.” “What about something non-biological?” “It’s a lot easier. Something about a living being having a template it wants to jump back to. That said, if you try and change something inanimate into a living thing, it does shift back.” “Really?” The altimeter was almost at the proper height. Any second now. “Why’s that?” “Something to do with how living things work, and I think the way magic works? We’re getting over my head.” “Sorry.” There! The lever went back to the center position, lock engaging once more. He took a quick look around the outside of the aircraft. It does feel calmer. Time would tell. “No biggie,” Nova said. “Anyway, when you use magic to change something’s shape, it does change. It becomes that thing. Right down to the … DNA? Yeah, that’s the word for it. Right down the DNA in the cells, though it does leave some trace markers of the origins.” “So it’s not magical,” Hunter said, extrapolating forward, “because whatever’s been transformed actually becomes what it’s turned into?” “Right. If we used magic to make me a griffon, I’d actually be a griffon. I’d probably keep a semblance of my coat and mane colors unless that was part of the change, but I’d actually be a griffon. I could walk right past a bunch of unicorns, and there wouldn’t be a single bit of magic saying I wasn’t a griffon that they could detect without specialized equipment.” “So there would be traces?” “Really, really tiny ones,” Nova said. “And there’s the problem with transformations. They don’t last.” “Okay …” He glanced at the compass, checking that the airship was still on its proper heading, then turned to face Nova. “What do you mean that they don’t last?” “Exactly that,” Nova replied with another shrug. “You know how everything’s got a magic field, right?” “Yeah.” “Well, that same magic I guess knows somehow that it’s not in the right shape. So it pushes back against the spell that made it something it’s not. It ‘remembers’ maybe? I don’t know the details. But it shoves back. So before long, whatever’s been changed changes back. You can make it last longer, but eventually the original form wins out.” “So changelings—” he began. “Are a special case,” Nova said quickly. “They’re supposed to transform. So that’s what they do. Maybe their magic is flexible and recognizes that? But if someone with a really large amount of magical power were to turn me into a griffon, like I said, I’d be back to being me in an hour or two tops unless they came back and constantly reinforced it.” “Which is a tight time limit.” Nova nodded. “And like I said, we’re talking a massive amount of power. I might never be able to pull one off, and I’m a few levels above average. It’s just easier to use makeup and forget the magic. Oh, and it’s not predictable.” “What do you mean, not predictable?” he asked. “Unless you’re powerful enough to actually know how long it’s going to take an innate magic field to push back, and have the power to override it, you’re kind of guessing. So their form might snap back in twenty minutes, or an hour.” “Which makes a tight time limit for something like your old job all the more wonky.” “Exactly. There’d be no signature, but where’s a thief going to find that kind of power and reliability?” “The Princesses?” For a moment they were both quiet, and then Nova nodded, a thoughtful look on his face that Hunter knew was mirrored on his own. “Yeah, that would do it. They could possibly even make it permanent.” “That can happen?” Hunter caught himself. “Wait, no, I’ve heard of a plant that does it. Really rare and dangerous. It’s not instant, though.” “It couldn’t be,” Nova replied. “It’d take too much power. But in theory—and just to be clear again that I’m not an expert here—if you had enough magic to overcome that last bit of innate magic, you could make a permanent transformation. There have definitely been claims of it throughout history. A few wizards in legend claimed to have made items that assisted in transformation too, but those are all …” He brought up one hoof and waggled it from side-to-side. “A little murky.” “Could a magic battery handle it?” Nova shook his head so quickly his fire-red mane was a blur. “Not even close. Not unless you want one the size of one of our superboilers. And Sky Bolt’s been having trouble figuring out how to work teleportation. Changing something is way past that on the complexity scale.” “So you need a starkers amount of power and lots of smarts.” “Pretty much.” Nova lifting one eyebrow. “Why? Thinking of trying something out?” “Me?” He shook his head. “No, I was just curious about how the changelings managed it. But once you got going on it, it did make me wonder if there could ever be a use for that. We do have a direct line to the Princesses.” “Huh,” Nova said, holding a hoof to his chin, eyes rolling back in thought. “I guess you’re right. We do. Maybe I should see if I could work a favor out of one of them.” “Wait, what?” He turned away from the controls, staring down at Nova, gobsmacked. “Really? Why?” Nova shrugged. “Hey, you’ve got wings. I don’t. It’d be nice to give that a try. I wonder if I could wager that in a poker game with Princess Luna …” Nova’s voice trailed off, his attention elsewhere. “Well, if you do,” Hunter said, a sly smile on his face. “Don’t tell the captain about it.” Nova perked up, ears twitching. “Really? Why?” “Because I want to be there to see his gob drop open in complete confusion, that’s why!” Hunter said. “And tell me in advance, so I can get a camera.” “Bonus points if I can make him question reality?” “Hmm …” Hunter put a hoof to his chin as he leaned back. “Maybe. I might be able to do you one better and swing you a day off or something.” “Deal!” Nova said, grinning and sticking out his hoof. “Gives me something to look forward to when I get back. And I want copies of the pictures!” “Deal.” Hunter slapped his hoof against Nova’s as they shook on it. “Granted, you’ve got to get the Princess to agree to it …” “You know, I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” Nova said, rising with a grin. “In any case, we’re shaking a bit less now, so I might as well try and get a little more sleep. Later, Hunter.” He turned for the door, hoof reaching for the latch. Something flitted through Hunter’s mind, and he spoke. “Actually, before you go …” Nova’s hoof stopped, the unicorn turning and looking back at him. “Did you ever speak to Dawn about how she’s been acting around you?” Nova nodded, the look of mirth sliding from his face. “I did. Last night.” “And?” He shook his head. “Nothing. She apologized, but said it was simply her dealing with the all the stress of the mission and getting everything taken care of for it.” “And?” he asked, crossing his forelegs across his chest. He could hear the unspoken words hanging on the end of Nova’s statement, hanging in the air like the storm-clouds in the sky. Though hopefully not as violent or dangerous. Nova let out a sigh and rolled his head. “She was lying. I’m certain of it. I’ve got a lot of experience in that area. She wouldn’t give me the full story. Something is bothering her, but she wouldn’t admit it. She gave me a convenient excuse, and that was all it was.” “Hmm …” He frowned. This is unlike Dawn. She’s cold, but hiding something? “All right,” he said slowly. “I’ll admit, that’s odd, especially for her. I can see why that’d aggro you, especially with how straightforward she normally is. All right, I’ll talk to her as soon as Sky Bolt comes back and relieves me—” The end of his sentence was stolen by a yawn, and he covered his mouth with one hoof. “And as soon as I’ve had a nap,” he added. “Anyway, I’ll have a chat with her about it, and see what the problem is. Make sure this isn’t just a beat up. Not saying you’re wrong,” he said, cutting off Nova’s retort before he could speak. “But she really could just be a bit more uptight than normal, even for her. The last few days haven’t been easy on any of us.” “That’s … fair,” Nova said, nodding. “All right. Thanks, Hunter.” “Welcome. Now go try and get some sleep, take advantage of the rest day while we have it.” The door slid to the side with a faint rumble that, oddly enough, echoed the rumble of another bolt of lightning outside, and then Nova was gone, the cockpit his own once more. All right … He leaned forward in his seat, eyeing the compass and then the altimeter. Being a little lower is a little smoother, so that’s at least a step in the right direction. Just wait for Sky Bolt to get back and then … Sleep. Glorious sleep. And after that … After that, he thought, I go have a little talk with Dawn. Unless, of course, this Crystal Empire shows up at last and everything really gets interesting. Speaking of which, I really do need to have a more in-depth talk with Steel about that, and … The Hummingbird drifted on through the sky, propellers spinning as Hunter planned.