//------------------------------// // Press Gang Pyramid Scheme // Story: The Princess's Bit // by Mitch H //------------------------------// The uniformed hippogriff stared feathery doom down at Gilda. It was the first time she'd ever seen the doctor wearing undress greens. Hawk Eye, who was now one of the few creatures other than Lady George who could look down at Gilda since her recent growth spurt, almost looked like a proper, if overtall griffon in her black beret and padded jacket, with the trousers hiding her pony hindquarters. But then the eye was drawn to that long, aqua-green pony tail, which, although it was lashing cat-like as one might expect from a griffish hen, was in no ways catlike in its volume or structure.  Then there were the pale yellow monkey-paws waving furiously in front of Gilda's beak, and occasionally poking clawed fingers in the direction of Gilda's vulnerable eyes, and while their claws were sharp and well-manicured - Hawk Eye was, after all, a working surgeon and clearly took care of her 'working tools' - they were not avian talons. Gilda found herself distracted by wonder at how the birdlike hippogriffs had somehow came to sport such unbirdlike appendages. And having been so distracted, she'd completely lost track of whatever the furious doctor had just screamed in Gilda's face. "I'm sorry, Captain Eye, I have lost my train of thought. Where did we get off track again?" "SKREEE!" "Really, captain ma'am, I've been echoed at by experts, you won't burst my eardrums that way. I'm fairly certain I know why you might be in our offices, screaming at me, but why don't we use our words?" Corporal Ping had abstracted himself fifteen minutes before the hippogriff mare had burst through the door; Gilda should have taken this as a warning, but because the little batpony was constantly coming and going, the warning had gotten lost in the churn. "MY SISTER! WHERE IS SHE?" "Ah, we've graduated to cavegriffon levels of discourse. Excellent! Perhaps we might find our way through the later exhibits with all deliberate speed?" Gilda had never laid eyes on a museum, but only had read of them. She found herself suddenly saddened by this thought, and wondered what the exhibits in their concrete flesh might look like? The engravings she'd seen in books as a kit had looked nice… "-weeks of lies and misdirection, and then YESTERDAY! Suddenly everypony was eager to tell me that you - YOU! Had my little fish all this time!" "Well, yes, until two days ago, I did not wish that you be informed of this fact. Two days ago, I changed my mind. Two days ago, I thought that little Fish Eye might have finally forgiven her horrible sister for whatever it was that so offended her that she did not instruct us to apply to you for ransom." "She didn't - offended - RANSOM?" "Oh, didn't they tell you that?" "No, just that Fish Eye had been ARRESTED for ESPIONAGE at the Bridlederry Gate! Which is ludicrous, who would she be spying for? We don't HAVE a country!" "Oh, calm yourself, Captain Eye. I straightened it out with the guards at the gate. Odd looking sort of monstrous beasts brandishing modern photographic camera apparatuses tend to evoke over-reactions on the part of indifferently educated Territorial troopers - who knew?" "Oh, by all the spirits of distillery… mother is going to have a squid. What are the exact charges? When's the arraignment?" "Captain ma'am, this is Trottingham. It didn't even make it into the reports. Which is why you only heard about it yesterday." "Oh. Good. Uh, where is- wait, what was this business about ransom?" "Your sister is, if you haven't noticed, a bit of a character. She took my rescue of her from likely arrest and imprisonment as a species of foalnapping. She seems to think she's in durance vile." "Corporal Gilda, is my sister imprisoned?" "Ahem," Gilda cleared her throat, tapping her new stripes. "Master Sergeant, thank you very much." "Master S- what madmare promoted you… two, three…?" "Only twice, we're experimenting with significantly flattened ranks here in the Guard, since we're spinning the regiment up from scratch and all. And that madmare would be Major Shield." "Maybe I should be talking to this- wait, you mean Lieutenant Gleaming Shield? Who did the two of you blackmail or rob to- wait, Guards?" "If you insist on instructing me to wait, captain ma'am, we'll be here until the autumn. Yes, this is the headquarters of the First Squadron, Sixth Guards. The Crystal Guards. We're recruiting!" "I - you know, I don't care. My SISTER! Why does she think she's imprisoned?" "You may not have noticed up there in the rarified Olympian airs of a medical outfit, but here in the trenches, there isn't a great deal of difference between imprisonment and enlistment in the armed forces. So, Fish Eye has decided her enlistment was a sort of arrest. Which, I should note, she seems to be enjoying quite thoroughly." "I- but-" "Mind you, I don't see her all that often - I don't really have time to spend with the new recruits - but she seemed happy enough when I assigned her as a bat-hen-" "Mare! My little sister is a mare!" "I don't see as it matters that much. Also, bat-mare makes her sound like one of the batponies. One of which is her new ensign. Where was I?" "My crazed little sister in prison. Or enlisted in some band of uniformed lunatics claiming to be a Guards regiment." "Ah, yes, same thing! Honestly, if it were up to me, I'd press-gang all of our recruits. It seemed to turn Fish Eye up sweet. Easily the most cheerful lance corporal in the squadron!" "No, that's Fish. She was always a happy fry. Is she making friends?" "I don't know, I assume so. I have to tell you, captain ma'am, as a griffon, you pony-griffons are-" "Hippogriffs! We're hippogriffs!" "Whatever. You have to have noticed that you occupy an uncanny valley between ponyfolk and griffonfolk." "Yeah, yeah. You all look weird to us, too. There's just an abyss of a lot more of you out here in the world than back home." "We'll have to talk at some point about where it is you two come from, but for now I think, captain ma'am, we need to talk about your crab-puff of a little sister." "Why's that, sergeant?" "Master sergeant, please! Because she really is an innocent, and I did sort of press gang her. Less violently than my own induction into the service, but still and all, I'd be happier with some family input into the situation, post-facto as it were. Among other things - what does her family debt look like?" Gilda had only three days ago sent off a year's worth of payments to her mother in dear old Griffonstone. Or rather, had put a fat stack of bits in the hooves of a banker's assistant with instructions to remit the sum as soon as international banking relations with whatever surviving or emergent financial institution appeared to take such remittances for the ominously inscrutable world of fiscal greater Griffonstone.  "What the blue hades is a family debt? No, we're not impoverished, and even if we were, it wouldn't be Fish Eye's obligation, it'd be my blasted mother's problem." "So you've both paid off your birthing and raising debts?" "I have no idea what you're talking about." "You birds really aren't griffons, are you? Nevermind. Apparently I recruited a free hen-" "Mare!" "And I didn't need to worry so much about it. Excellent! It's so much easier when you don't need to worry about sending children off to die for Princess and Country." "What! No, you're not sending my little sister to die. For anything! Or any reason! She's going to go home to mother, and we'll forget this entire foalnapping business-" "Don't forget the espionage charges." "-and the espionage- wait, I thought you said no charges had been filed!" "Because I had them squashed before they could be reported, captain ma'am. That could be construed as a sort of conspiracy against the Peytral. Which you are now an accessory to, after the fact." "What! Not if I report this conversation in the next several days! I just need to find the right authorities. Somepony has got to care that there's a lunatic in a sergeant major's uniform-" "Master sergeant!" "Master sergeant's uniform foalnapping innocent mares and blackmailing their relatives!" "Blackmail's such an ugly word." "This is an ugly business!" "But since you bring it up… Who exactly knows where you are?" The hippogriff mare suddenly looked nervous, glancing around as if she'd just realized that she'd walked into a very large, unhinged hen's lair. Even if the hippogriff was technically taller, it was all bone and feather, and Gilda felt with some confidence that they both knew that Gilda could take her, if it came to talon and beak. "Uh, I left a note with…" "Ah! I was wondering where Ping got this!" Gilda picked the note up off her desk, and waved it at the mare, who was going a bit cross-eyed trying to see if it was indeed the message in question. "Nah, not really, but really, haven't you noticed how easily paperwork appears and disappears with Corporal Ping in the vicinity?" "And that's another thing! I heard that somehow you people stole our Ping! How does that even happen?" "Only Ping knows for sure. But every squadron should have a Ping! They're positively indispensable. I suspect I'd be able to make my fortune if I could figure out how to clone him." "Y-yeah. So, you know, if she enlisted under false pretenses, I can just take her back to mother, and no harm no foul, right?" "Oh, no, no, no, I'm afraid not, captain ma'am. You see, she didn't enlist under false pretenses. Real name, real talon print, signed the paper and took the bit. And as far as I can tell, is fully of age. Which is more than I could say when they press-ganged me." "You were pre-" "Yeah, let's talk about you, Captain Eye. Because that's why we're here, aren't we?" "I thought we were here because of-" "Your sister's found a place, and looks happy. Why would you want to take that away from her? I want to know if you're happy, Captain Eye. Because the last time I saw you, you weren't looking too good." "The last time you saw me, I was forearms deep in a stallion's open ribcage and reconstructing a left lobar vein before he hemorrhaged half our blood supply over my operating table!" "Yeah, fun times, right?" "Only if you're a complete sociopath! I'm just counting the days until I can get back to private practice." "Oh, were you drafted?" Gilda's talon tapped on Hawk Eye's 'jacket'. Never ask a question you don't already know the answer to. "No, of course not, Pony Bill was paying for- look, what are you hinting around? You know I'm stuck in the EUP for the next three years. Bloodsucking grant administrators…" "You're stuck in Her Highness's Armed Forces. Not necessarily a frontline combat hospital." "It's either that, or one of the recovery hospitals. I can't even get a place in the vet hospitals!" "Thing is, Captain Eye, when I looked through the establishment tables for a Guards regiment, guess what I found?" "A puppy? A golden ticket for a candy factory? Some shred of sanity or conscience?" "No, Captain Eye, provision for a regimental surgeon." "A what? Those went out with the pegasus cavalry! Does it come with a tricorner hat?" "When do you think is the last time they stood up a Guards regiment, Captain Eye? The regulations are centuries out of date. Which is a good thing. Ask me why it's a good thing." "W- OK, I'll bite. Why's that a good thing?" "Because there's no Crystal Empire." "Uh… what? You lost me on that last turn. Try again?" "The Sixth Guards is the Crystal Guards, the household cavalry of the Empress of the Crystal Heart, the Princess of the North." "Never heard of her." "Of course you haven't, she died almost eleven hundred years ago. And the Crystal Empire disappeared a few decades after that." "Bully for the lot of you." "What I mean is, our duty post is currently buried under ten thousand feet of ice and snow. Which means, by inference, we're an itinerant unit. We've got a shipworks on the north side of town renovating a heavy troopship into a light carrier, that will be the home of the First Squadron. Later squadrons will, we hope and plan, have their own aerial barracks." "Again, I don't see what this has to do with me. And I really hate the idea that it has anything to do with Fish Eye, because I'm starting to suspect that you're stark staring mad." "We plan on being far away from the usual EUP support structures for significant periods of time, Captain Eye. That includes medical care. That means, by extension, that…" "You need a doctor on staff. One with a lot of-" "Experience with emergency care and combat medicine." "What a bloodless phrase for such a bloodsoaked affair. That's me, is it?" "Yes. Your sister is going in harm's way. There's nothing you can do about it, and nothing I will do about it. But you can do something to make sure that if and when she's hurt in the Princess's service…" "I'll be there to stitch back together your broken toys." "Precisely, captain ma'am. But I can't force you to take the transfer. But if I can't get you..." "What, are you going to threaten Fish Eye with some cack-hoofed superannuated horse doctor?" "I have here Major Burn Salve's service jacket. It's… superficially sufficient to our requirements." "That walking malpractice suit? Ha! You'd never pry him away from Rose Hips' hot lips." "Do you honestly think the both of them wouldn't jump at the opportunity to swan about in guards dress uniforms?"  Hawk Eye started long and hard at Gilda's garrison fatigues, which even in their subdued glitter and subtle color gradients still managed to put her own undress greens to shame. They both knew that the hippogriff surgeon's shallow, military-mad rival would lunge at the chance to be a 'Surgeon of the Guards' - any guards, no matter how jenny-come-lately. "You know, there will come a day when your evil plots will cease to find fair winds and following seas, Master Sergeant Gilda." "But that day will not be today, will it, Captain Hawk Eye?" "I loathe you with the pressure of a thousand fathoms." "Observe me crushed by your regard." "I take it Ping's already written up my transfer papers?" "If I know Ping, he's already snuck them pre-signed into your lieutenant colonel's outbox in Bridlederry." "May you end your days stuck between the teeth of a well-fed great squid." "I love you too, Captain Eye." The bosses had an empty warehouse deep in the griffish slums. Purse Strings wasn't entirely sure why this was so, nor who actually owned the dark fortress-like two-storey, but he wasn't going to look too closely at well-secured storage space within convenient distance of the Tenpenny Collective's bustling shipyard. He and the ratings and other sailors that had been left at loose ends by the Daddy Longlegs's long refitting had emptied out those parts of the Daddy that had been scheduled for renovations.  The warehouse also made for a useful temporary headquarters for Purse Strings and his growing if temporary empire of procurement, supply acquisition, and the occasional bit of blackmail or minor theft. So far, the bosses had kept him well-supplied with credit - if not that much cash - so the felonies had been kept to an absolute minimum. Although if the cart parts suppliers kept dragging their hooves in between their bouts of tactical deafness and shakedowns for kickback schemes, Purse might need to start planning out a campaign of last-minute grand larceny on an epic scale - enough to burn a lot of bridges. They weren't planning on basing out of Trottingham, anyways. Although the Major hadn't settled on an actual base of operations. Purse Strings was pulling for Well Burn or Sip Tea in the New Territories, but his opinions and preferences were hardly anything anypony was planning on taking into account. Purse Strings was in his office with the money-hen from the Tenpenny Collective and the Major when a hippogriff in an EUP uniform came bursting into their progress update meeting. "-which is why I think that the inner hull reinforcements aren't strictly- oh, hello, Captain Eye. Gilda said you would be in Trottingham today." "Did she? And how did she know- nevermind, I don't want to know. Pardon me, my manners. Good day, lieut- wait, are those major bars? That madhen wasn't just talking nonsense, they actually promoted you twice?" "Yes, I am. Nice to see you again, Captain Eye. Major Gleaming Shield, Sixth Guards, at your service." "How do you swing two promotions in… huh, it's been almost six months." "Politics, Captain Eye. Also knowing the right ponies. And, of course, Gilda. Can't discount the use of a good prybar to get at the goods before someone snatches away the crate." "Right… Your prybar has pried my crate open. I gather I'm going to be working for you?" "Excellent! We needed a surgeon. Talk to Strings here, he should be able to get you set up with supplies and explain our plans for your surgery and the expanded sick bay." The hippogriff mare stepped up to the table covered in schedules, reports, and blueprints. "So it's true, you're basing an entire squadron off of a- what is this?" "Converted heavy hauler and troopship. Big enough to carry the squadron and our supplies." "How are you going to fit a surgery and an entire-" "Here, under the poop deck." "Isn't that where the captain's quarters are supposed to go?" "Well, yes, it was. Back when this ship had a captain. What do I need with a ship's captain? I've a ship's master, and I don't need some pony thinking she's the lord and commander of my ship. A nicely subservient ship's master will suffice." "Major Shield, if you own a ship, and don't have a ship's captain, I'm pretty sure that makes you the captain by default." "You think so? You're an army surgeon, what do you know about naval affairs?" "I'm a hippogriff, we've always been a sailing people." "Well, you may be right, I've served on a few sailing ships, but we Sparkles have always been army horses. And I certainly don't need more than a hammock belowdecks on one of the troop decks, with Gilda and the office cubbies. "Anyway! We're burning daylight here. Eye, we'll talk later, I can see I need to smooth a few ruffled feathers. But this meeting is officially overtime now, and we need to get back to work if Goldclip and I are going to keep this over-budget nightmare on track. Strings! Show the captain your medical supplies." Purse Strings knew when he'd been dismissed. He led the puzzled hippogriff into the back of the dark warehouse, picking up a firefly lantern as he went. The medical supplies were on three or four pallets in the locked cage on the back wall.  Painkillers and distilled alcohol had a certain tendency to go on walkabout if you didn't keep them under lock and key. "Here you go, captain. Everything that was in the Daddy's old sick bay, plus some purchases I've been squirreling away. I've got two light evac carriages on order, plus a stack of stretchers on another pallet up front." "Hrm. Is that enough for a squadron?" asked the hippogriff mare as she started going through the top stack of perishable supplies on the pallet closest to the front of the cage. "I have to admit, I've never been on this side of the game. We always caught the casualties, I never thought about where the evac rigs were coming from. "Also, this box of antibiotics are expired. These aren't new-purchased, are they?" Purse Strings stared at the pallet. "Shouldn't be… nope, the swabs pulled the old pallets out and put the new ones in the back like I told them, good birds. I'll have to pony up for their next rat break." The Daddy Longlegs had a surprising number of griffons among its rigging-crew. Purse had no idea how they'd kept them separated from the troops they shuttled on a regular basis, but it had been done, somehow, obviously - because here they were! "Don't you get bulk discounts on rations?" "Hmm?" Purse was examining the list for the pallet from which the offending box of expired drugs had come. "No, not packaged food - rats. Rat onna stick. There are street vendors, it's a delicacy in the Pennies." "A… how old are the rats?" "How would I know? I'm a pony. There are things I'll eat, and they're more than you predators would suspect, but I draw the line at furry things with faces. Even mugs as ugly as you'd find on a rat." "And it isn't because you feel a certain commonality with them?" "What, rats aren't herbivores!" "I was thinking of furry things with faces on 'em. Like what you see every morning in the mirror." "What! Are you calling me rat-faced?" "Uh. No. Of course not. More of a weasel…" "Ha! You're too kind, Captain Eye. What's that short for, by the way?" "Hawk Eye." "Nice to meetcha, Hawk Eye. I'm Purse Strings. I master quarters around these parts. Let's find out how much of this junk I pulled off Daddy Longlegs is garbage." "Daddy…?" "Yeah, nopony else likes the name, either. We're working on it."