//------------------------------// // CEO // Story: Expedition to the Cloudbreak Islands // by Starglider //------------------------------// The cluster of islands known as Triskelion Mine was a twisted mass of rock and dunes floating serenely in the sky, twined around each other and stretching for many kilometres. A colony of dirt sharks called it home, cutting tunnels into the rock and dotting the surface with their towers and factories. On the east side were the air docks, where two winged creatures had just paid a visit to one of the shark's ships. The mismatched pair consisted of a griffon hen and a batpony stallion, with permission to land secured, they now made their way back to the circling copter. By the time the flyers made it back to the Second Chance, the dirt sharks had somehow communicated to their fellows to stand their weapons down. Cannon muzzles were drawn back from their gunports and ballistae pointed away, though their crews still stood ready, watching the little aircraft for signs of trouble. The enormous armoured train had puffed and squealed to a stop, the long, hulking bulk of the thing sitting on the twin tracks not far from the designated landing area. Clashing Gale looked over to his griffon teammate, his tone appreciative: "Hey, you sure got a way to negotiate with those sharks. Not bad, Grenelda... not bad." The purple batpony chuckled softly, certain things would have been much tougher without her support. Griffons seemed to command some respect in these parts, while ponies were unknown. Grenelda flew up to perch on the side of the pink-painted drow copter, forcing its kirin pilot to adjust the controls to keep the ship level. "Yo! You're cleared to land." The hen clicked her beak proudly, in a gesture another griff would recognise as a cocky smirk. "I think they're gonna want you to do some hard labour, Nutmeg, but I'm sure you can convince 'em of your talents, then negotiate a better deal. You game?" The kirin was still at the controls, flanked by the engineer Static Signal and the recently revived Summer Scribe. She frowned as Grenelda rocked the aircraft, annoyance turning to alarm as the hen's words sunk in. "Hard labour?" Nutmeg exclaimed, her face falling, "They wouldn't even let us land without agreeing to a labour contract?" "Ugh, really? That's a pain." Summer Scribe rubbed a hoof against her forehead. "We can't work day in and day out - we have things to do and places to be!" "We do?" Static Signal asked in confusion, "I thought this was the only place we had left to be at." Summer Scribe replied with one of her expansive hoof gestures, "I mean, like, more generally? We can't do this forever, is what I'm getting at. We're here to explore!" "Technically we're here to operate the ship's engine," Nutmeg said a little crossly, leaning back subtly to place herself between Summer and Static. Her tone slowly changed to confused worry as she said, "...and nothing else. We definitely shouldn't go sign ten-year labour contracts with sharks we barely know anything about, but you distinguished scholar ponies are the ones who are here to explore. Not that I'm turning down a chance to explore. But if we have to sit here working all day so you get to explore... that's sort of our job, isn't it?" "Don't say that, Nutmeg!" Static Signal told the kirin, worried about being side-lined. "It was a bogus contract in the first place. We'll explore this place no matter what contract those two made us sign." "I guess," Nutmeg said, looking at the straw-coloured pegasus uncertainly, "But technically we're not here to um... I mean, never mind it's just a little weird being all adventurey and stuff." Summer Scribe just sighed. "Hmm... yeah I think it'd be a huge loss if Nutmeg ended up toiling away day in and day out for someone we don't know. Like, we have to be getting enough out of it for the venture to be worth it?" She reminded the kirin: "We're only doing this because we need propellers, right? What's the point if we don't get them?" "We're only doing this to find out what it takes to get propellers, so we can decide what to do later," Nutmeg reasoned, placing her hooves back on the controls. "So where do I land this thing, without getting in trouble?" she queried, looking vaguely through the windscreen at Clashing and Grenelda, now settled on the foredeck. The bat pony had been listening to the talk of losing their engineers to the sharks and didn't seem too enthusiastic about the prospect. "Did this crew really get themselves into that much trouble while I was out?" he wondered out loud, looking at each mare in turn. "The more I hear about this, the less I like it. Maybe we really should have discussed this before securing the landing spot, but..." he trailed off, falling quiet again. "Landing, yes. What landing spot did you secure?" Nutmeg asked, gazing down at the island. She seemed distracted as she informed him, "You were in a coma, so maybe you don't know: we lost the lead ship and like a quarter of our crew in the storm, all pretty much dead, and the ones who were left had a crippled, leaking ship, and a single grassy meadow for gathered resources, which we were trespassing on it turns out. It's objectively a miracle that we're still holding together." "Think they're trying to point us to that spot over there..." Clashing Gale started, pointing over at the flat sandy area below the cliff-side air dock. "My team filled me in on the situation yes, though not in such bleak terms. One thing I'm not quite clear on though... how did we end up making enemies? We captured this ship from some bipeds, right? The shark creature called it a 'drow copter'. So... how much do these drow hate us now?" He asked bluntly. "Ask Grenelda, she was the one who brought it back," Nutmeg said, engaging the throttle to push them forward on the blind hope that the sharks wouldn't shoot them down this time, "I just refurbished it. They attacked us, and now they hate us for not losing, that's all I know." "So they hate us. Gotcha. Hmm..." Clashing Gale concluded with a nod. He considered asking the griffon hen about it, but she was back at the bow, one claw on the harpoon launcher as she stared intently down at the approaching landscape. Best not disturb her. Their situation seemed even worse than he'd thought: he wished now he'd asked around more before coming out here, though if anything they needed him on the front lines more than ever. After all as the leader of the storm piercer team, he had to take some responsibility for getting them all into this situation in the first place. "Are you really sure you're okay with indefinite indentured servitude, Nutmeg?" Summer tilted her head, looking a bit exasperated towards Nutmeg as they made their approach. "We're ponies! We can do more than just work to the bone! We've got way more to offer than just another labourer or two. Shouldn't we lead with our best hoof forward?" "Hey take it easy. I didn't say I'd be okay with indefinite servitude without getting paid!" the distracted kirin replied, "Just that if they want work, they can get it. We're only here to look today though, so don't worry I won't be abandoning you or anything." Under Nutmeg's guidance, the Second Chance made a slow approach towards the barren landing area. It seemed to be a deserted dust-bowl, flat and featureless save for a few bits of rusty, wind-swept junk and a scattering of low shrubs. As they prepared to touch down the calm was broken: stocky figures burst out of the ground, the dirt sharks emerging in sprays of reddish sand before staring up warily at the settling copter. With a final whoosh of dust it was on the ground, the rotors slowly winding down as Nutmeg cut the throttle. The sudden emergence of the sharks caught Summer off guard: she jumped back a little in surprise. There had been no sign of them from the air... though given the name, she really should have seen it coming. "Alright, that's the welcoming party. Shall we say hello?" Nutmeg was already moving: she called out "We're not drow! We just ended up with their ship!" as she hopped off the deck, eager to get her hooves on solid (albeit floating) ground. "Stating the obvious there, miss... uh... no, I ain't even gonna guess." came a dusty male voice from one of the dirt sharks. "We got our instructions, old Bellcrank said you wanna make a deal, so you got yourself an escort up to the Cee-Eee-Oh's office." He stared for a moment. "Come on out, all of you. My mates'll keep your ship nice and safe right here." "Just don't want to have to repair it on account of a misunderstanding," Nutmeg said to the scaly guy, "Still kind of not sure how things work here." She winced at the notion of escort, but it wasn't unexpected given how hostile these sharks were on approach. She was looking forward to the journey more than the destination though, because the journey might be her only opportunity to scope out this place and try and figure out what they really needed. The destination... she wasn't so comfortable about. They didn't have a deal to make; they didn't have any bargaining chips outside of some crazy notion that she was a Tech Elemental. Sure, the whole business with the Skylanders suggested that maybe it wasn't a totally crazy idea, but there was also a strong possibility that these sharks already had their own Tech Elementals. How else had they build that super-impressive train? Summer Scribe tilted her head, considering the situation. They were being escorted and she guessed that was that - it shoouuuld be safe? The unicorn hopped down from the ship and gave the lead shark a polite nod. "Pleasure to meet you all! We're looking forward to talking with Bellcrank." She could only assume a Cee-Eee-Oh was the tribe leader equivalent amongst these people? At a nod from the first shark, two more had clambered up onto the ship and were looking warily at Grenelda. He did a double-take at the spooky batpony, "What kinda mutant are you anyways?" then turning to regard Summer with a bemused expression. "Uh... yeah so your griffon and her friend already talked to Bellcrank. Watched them flap right over to the Leverage, I did, lucky he ain't in the mood to shoot you down. We ain't going up there, he said Firesteel already steamed over here so would wanna see what all the fuss was about." At the unicorn's blank look he clarified. "Firesteel is the Chief Execushark of Triskellion Mineral Tech, yeah?" Lost in her thoughts, Nutmeg blinked in surprise at she saw the curious shark peering at Clashing and Summer. As a rare brown-furred red-ruffed branch-horned sometimes-on-fire golden-scaled two-toed omnivorous kirin, Nutmeg Inferno was usually the exotic species, though she supposed batponies were fairly rare as well. "...Yeah, alright..." was the only response from the Clashing Gale. His initial confidence seemed to be draining away as the reality sank in: aside from being called a 'mutant', with the copter grounded, they were at the mercy of these sharks. Triskellion Mineral Tech? What was this, some kind of massive company? He followed along quietly, glancing over his shoulder at the Second Chance before sighing and bringing up the rear of the group. This could easily go very badly for them... but what choice did they have? Static Signal was the last out, the pegasus emerging from the engine compartment and leaping off to land beside the others. The sandy-coloured pegasus mare looking nervously at the new creatures around them. "I wasn't hiding under there," she huffed to Summer, Nutmeg and the others with a blush, arguing her case before the entirely wrong creatures, "I was just waiting to uh, watch the copter, you know, all... responsibly and stuff!" "Well, you can come too," Nutmeg said uneasily, "This place is bound to be full of awesome stuff. But uh..." she eyed the sharks eyeing her and sighed, saying, "I'm sure it'll be fine. Just be careful, okay?" Static nodded, giving her boss a knowing look before filing along with the others. Wings tightly folded were obvious to any onlookers, but she certainly didn't advertise them as she stuck close to Nutmeg protectively. Summer Scribe tilted her head again. "...Err? We're all ponies... I'm a unicorn, Static is a pegasus, Clashing Gale is a batpony, Nutmeg Inferno... well ok she's not a pony but kirin are our cousins really. We're one of the most populous species on Equus?" She looked too confused to be offended, really. Her horn sparked a bit as she waved it in the air, picking up a rock nearby. "Our horns let us do magic. Well, a type of magic: where we come from we're all a bit magical in our own special ways. ... Uhh, does that answer your question?" Grenelda eyed the surrounding dirt sharks with at least as much concern as Clashing. She couldn't help but feel like they were just giving up their ship and marching into slavery; how badly did they need those damn propellors, anyway? But she kept her beak shut, guessing the others wouldn't listen if she started raving. Ponies were so damn keen to make friends, they just... The hen clicked her beak again in frustration. "Ponies..." the lead shark said. "Don't ring no bells, but if you're the kinda fancy prancy creatures that like hanging around in elfy forests, then I guess you come from way round the other side of the rim." He gestured with an arm for them to follow, heading across the flats towards the distant, looming bulk of the armoured train. "Magic huh." he said dismissively. "Like potions and curses and books o' spells? Folk don't hold with that stuff round here, can't depend on it like gears and gunpowder." Summer Scribe narrowed her eyes at 'fancy and prancy' - really? - but there was no point protesting. Instead she just trotted along and continued to work on her sales pitch. "Mm-hhmmm! Not only do we know magic, we've practically made it into a science! We make spellbooks and enchantments and we pass it down from generation to generation at academies. In that sense it's just as figured out as your tech!" the unicorn said, perhaps bragging a little. "There's still merit to all this, though. Technology is capable in its own way, and yours looks particularly impressive." Clashing Gale remarked, trotting faster to catch up with the unicorn. Maybe they needed to emphasise their strengths, but there was no sense in putting down their host's way of life... and wasn't the Storm Piercer a mix of magic and tech, anyway? He wanted to help with the negotiations, but... he just couldn't stop thinking of scenarios where this all ended in disaster. Following close behind, Nutmeg looked thoughtfully up at her own horn and then forward at the shark leading them. Thinking fast, she remarked casually to Summer, "If you're gonna tell these people all about how to uh, use you, then there's no need to exaggerate. You were just telling me the other day how much you respected technology and wished magic was half as dependable. Right after the magic failed, and we had to get through that storm on technology alone, remember?" Summer Scribe seemed crestfallen as Nutmeg took the wind out of her braggard sails. "...Yeah, true. I mean, it was a bit of a once-in-a-lifetime event, but the tech did work and the magic didn't... kinda. I mean, I sort of restarted it but yeah... we still don't grok how the magic works here compared to back at home..." Now it was Summer's turn to lose her confidence; the little unicorn fell silent as they plodded behind their hopefully-not-captors. It took the Equestrians and their dirt shark escorts about ten minutes to cross the flats and climb up the short slope leading up to the railway tracks. There they found a pair of enormous locomotives sitting side-by-side on the parallel tracks. Each was easily twice the size of the largest earth pony creations, billowing black smoke and white steam as they idled. The armoured steel cowlings might have given the machines an almost streamlined appearance if it hadn't been for the profusion of brass trim, oversized lamps and decorative fins. A small crowd of sharks had disembarked, standing around and staring at the newcomers. Some bore the tool belts and soot marks of engineers, others bore long sticks disturbingly similar to Abernathy's shotgun, equipped with a sharp blade to serve as a pike if necessary. Their guide waved the other sharks off, leading them past the tenders towards the first car, a steel box the size of a typical pony house. The side hatch was open, with a folding stair to provide easy boarding. Summer gawked at the engines as they approached. "Goodness, they look even bigger up close..." she murmured. There was something beautiful, sleek, breath-taking about the machines - as if the sharks were not just interested in functional devices, but had gone all out in building the most impressive vehicles they could. She warily eyed all the armed sharks just standing around... but why would they turn hostile in the ponies now? Keenly aware of her own tool saddle bearing its elegant pony-made instruments, Nutmeg gawked at everything like a tourist. Static's tool apron was much less visible, but she was just as enthralled. Both took note of the electric lamps, the billowing black smoke turning the air acrid, the steel rivets holding the boxcar together... all the little engineering details. The kirin hesitated at the steps, looking up into the dark interior and remarking "Guess we're going on a train ride then," to her pegasus friend. The two didn't pause long, hurrying up into the train car. Clashing Gale also gave the train a long and appreciative look. A far cry from Equestrian locomotives, the bulk and exposed mechanisms projected power, durability, opulence even. Quite different from the earth pony constructions they had back home, but it had a certain charm. Keeping a close eye on the shark's strange weapons, the batpony stayed close to Summer Scribe, boarding the train without so much as a word. Behind him Grenelda continued to look grumpy and twitchy as she tagged along. More of the shark-creatures were waiting for the Equestrians inside the train, looking much fancier than the first group with their embroidered jackets and gleaming pistol belts. "That's far enough Flint," one said, "I'll take 'em up to the boss." The first shark glared at his superior for a moment, before sighing and stomping back out again. The Equestrians followed along through corridors and gangways, the decorations and furniture getting steadily more elaborate as they moved down the length of the train. Heading up a flight of stairs to the upper deck, they emerged into a spacious room dominated by a long table of polished wood, brightly lit by sunlight streaming in through the heavy steel window blinds. Three sharks lounged in overstuffed leather chairs, bolted to the floor via brass swivels; one gestured to the numerous empty chairs, indicating the ponies should sit. Summer Scribe took in everything with keen and clear interest as she was ushered along. The latent threat of their situation was almost nullified by the sheer amount of coolness she was seeing here. The unicorn perked up as she was finally shown a chair to sit on. ...Well, she'd do her best. Clearly not designed for quadrupeds, but it was big enough for her to fit completely into so... she awkwardly hopped up and plopped her hindquarters onto the cushioned interior. Steady improvement in equipment and furnishings? Check. Better trained and armed guards? Check. Nicer decor? Oh yeah. Clashing Gale nodded weakly as he followed along: he'd seen places like this, wherever the ponies-in-charge let their greed get out of control. Workers were treated like dung, given sawdust floors and rusty tools, while the top tier got gold trim and daisy sandwiches. Well maybe the latter was just for ponies, but still. Three sharks that seemed to be the high-ups in this company... this was it. The batpony sat next to Summer Scribe, ready to back her up or try and cover if she said something wrong. Or try at least; he was still no diplomat. Nutmeg also took a chair, wrapping her ropey tail around her haunches as she sat looking with concern at the quiet sharklike being, presumably the boss of this place. Static just curled up to sit on the floor beside her chair. Neither seemed particularly amazed by anything they'd seen inside the train: a lot of glitz and glamor covering over some battered, ugly, plainly functional machines. The kirin wondered how often this train even moved. She looked like she wanted somepony else to say something, glancing at each of her companions in turn, but finally the chocolate mare said nervously, "So... this is a bigger deal than I thought it would be. Sorry for causing all this trouble. I can't think of any other reason we might be seeing someone like you on arriving here, so, I suppose you... want to know what we are?" The shark who appeared to be the leader was relatively short and slim compared to the guards, with elongated greenish spots on his grey-blue hide. Assorted jewelled trinkets and an oversized platinum watch hung from his torso. "Someone like me?" he droned in a nasal voice. "Do you know who you're speaking to? From your blank look I surmise you do not. Pitchblende, Comptroller of Triskelion Mining Technology Corporation; we're the market leader in minerals and engineering services across the eastern rim, if you don't know that either. I trust you have a proposition worthy of my time." He sniffed. "And yes, you would do well to begin by explaining what you are and where you came from." Sweat beaded on Summer Scribe's brow: clearly they're weren't dealing with some backwater village this time! Her introduction lacked her usual unflinching confidence: "We're ponies - and one griffon - from Equestria." The unicorn pointed to her companions in turn, confirming everyone's species. "We came here recently from beyond the storm wall and, uh, crash landed. We're looking to barter with your people for spare parts we can't make on our own. Some of us might look familiar, but trust me, we're not from the Cloudbreak Islands." 'So far, no missteps,' Clashing Gale thought, keeping quiet and concentrating on the task at hand. "Crashed, you say? And now you need help to repair that..." the nerdy shark sniffed again "...aircraft of yours? I hope you-" Before he could continue a set of wooden doors opposite to the main entrance literally burst open, admitting a new shark to the meeting. He was almost the opposite of the Comptroller, all bulging muscles and confident swagger. "Hellloooo and welcome, to the Exec-u-tive MegaTrain Hammerhead!" His face split open in a massive gaping grin of razor-sharp teeth. "What a crazy bunch you are!" Sunlight glinted off the dozen or so clinking gold chains and medallions that were draped around his chest. "'Course that's nothing we aren't used to 'round here, our unique value proposition brings in creatures from far and wide, isn't that right Pitch!" He clapped the slimmer shark on the back with enough force to pop off a couple of his trinkets. "Quite," said Pitchblende, wincing. "May I present our Chief Executive Officer, Firesteel." He gave the CEO a weak but admiring smile. The larger shark hurled his bulk into a particularly elaborate chair at the head of the table. "Stole a drow copter, right? Realised the thing was ready to fall apart, came running here hoping we'd fix it for you?" He leaned forward, staring at Grenelda as if daring her to challenge him, before flashing that predatory grin again. "Hoping we'd ignore the fat bounty on your heads?" he asked the little unicorn. Summer Scribe gaped. Holy cow! ... Or shark! Firesteel was just brimming with swagger and confidence, a larger than life force that filled the room! She couldn't help but feel a little timid as the creature focused his attention on her. "B...B-bounty?! Don't tell the drow put a bounty on us?" Summer was starting to panic, and it showed on her face. She should have seen this coming... but were the dirt sharks willing to cash it in? They could be in really serious trouble here... Summer's remark drew a deep laugh from the shark leader. "Playing innocent, huh? Don't tell me you thought the drow, of all creatures would just let things slide?" Grenelda, for her part, returned the gaze with a piercing stare of her own, glaring daggers but saying nothing. 'Damn does this suck,' she thought. The griffon wanted to let loose and rake faces but she knew how that would end, so the hen kept her anger bottled up for now. Clashing Gale's composure was broken. Sure, Pitchblende looked like a leader... but Firesteel reeked of one. Things had taken a distinctly hostile turn: a bounty. Of course, these stupid mercenaries would do anything for a little coin. He hadn't been there for the attack, so he didn't even have knowledge of the drow that might help convince them otherwise. All the batpony could do was glower in silence, waiting for Firesteel's next move. "The Shadow Hand tribe hardly have enough operable aircraft to write off the loss so easily." Pitchblende sniffed. "Not to mention the total loss of a warband demanding violent revenge. Anything less would be an unacceptable, going by their long-standing PR policy." Summer Scribe smirked at that, and tried to regain some ground. "Sure, but you're not just going to co-operate with them over some bounty, right? They're totally nasty, and they'd, uhh..." She needed to co-opt the language and reasoning she was hearing. "...eat into your profits by scaring, impoverishing and in a lot of cases enslaving your target market, right?" She gestured with a hoof at herself, as if to indicate 'hey, we're in your target market too, I swear!' Nutmeg smiled despite herself, rearing up on the chair to this fun new guy and saying, "Look, we need some good quality four-bladed steel propellors about mmm... three times the length of the copter's. Six would be ideal, though propellor three is mostly functional so we could do with five. We also could use steam piping, I can specify the length of cut. We have some damaged vents on our firebox, so hinges, iron flaps, you know..." She went on for a while, before blinking in confusion at the harsh reactions of everyone else, saying, "What? It's just a bounty. Those pirates probably have bounties on everyone who fights them off, and good luck getting the drow to pay on their debts. They're disorganised and uncivilised and... completely untrustworthy!" A worried look crossed the kirin's face then; as she met Firesteel's eyes she said: "I k-know you don't have a reason to t-trust us either, but we must be more valuable than the bounty the drow put out on us, otherwise they wouldn't pay it! We're here to help you and see if we can make it worth your while to help us fix our ship. That's better than just selling us for some one-time payment, right? Or are you guys slavers too?" "Love your chutzpah, ponies!" Firesteel rumbled, ignoring the kirin's question. "But your hand looks pretty weak from where I'm sitting. Sure your average drow couldn't stick to a contract if their life depended on it, but we got ways and means of dealing with 'em, ain't we Pitch." His companion nodded. "Their cultural compulsion to double-cross is quite predictable." Pitchblende said dryly. "With proper precautions, the risk/reward ratio of dealing with the drow can be made quite favourable." Clashing Gale was still trying to put the pieces of this puzzle together. Nutmeg seemed to know a lot about the drow, and she hadn't even been on the squad that was attacked; clearly he'd missed a great deal during that two-week coma. Regardless, this was the crux of it: would the sharks go for the easy money, or gamble on a longer-term advantage? For a band of mercenaries, they at least seemed to enjoy deals and bargains. If they could just convince the sharks they'd be better mercenaries with the pony's help... "Yeah. So you wanna make a pitch about new markets, better business partners... go right ahead!" Firesteel told the Equestrians. "Tell me what you got that's more valuable than keeping the drow off our backs for a quarter." Nutmeg's ears flattened at her complete failure to warn everypony that this might happen, as well as the despairing looks on all her friend's faces. At Firesteel's prompt though, her ears went back up as she gave him a cool look, saying in an even tone, "Well, we're not here to make a sales pitch, but if you really insist, it's pretty obvious what ponies can do for you, because you guys don't have any magic. All that smoke will give any creature black lung without a soot scrubber spell, or a magical fuel booster to keep it burning cleanly on less oxygen." "You don't have any levitation charms on your equipment, which looks like it was forged with a hammer rather than sculpted molten in a horn field, or melded in-hoof. You rivet things together instead of joining them. No space warping of any sort. All that beautiful design, but your machines can't benefit from the Magic Element at all. Well, ponies have magic. A lot of it. And they are very good at it." "We keep the magic to a bare minimum, and you know why?" Firesteel shot back angrily, pointing a thick scaly finger at Nutmeg. "'Cause our tech's gotta work, all day every day, and keep working when you don't got a spell punk around, or when some cyclops is trying to hex your into next week." He relaxed back into his chair. "We ain't no pansy elves coughing at a little smoke. Maybe in Fantasm Forest you gotta deal with that ecomentalist crap, but this side of Skylands we got coal in our bellies and gasoline in our veins, you know what I'm saying?" Pitchblende waited for the rant to finish before explaining "I think what the CEO is saying is that in our experience, the marginal benefits of magical enhancement don't stack up against the vendor lock-in and escalating service charges." "Yeah." Firesteel said grumpily. "'Course we could solve that by bringing it in house. As long as they were permanent staff," he said, leaning forward and leering at Nutmeg. "Oh sorry, I didn't know you could consume coal and gasoline directly," Nutmeg said in shock, blushing and looking away, "I guess you aren't losing anyone to that, then. My village had to deal with smoke inhalation a lot. We kirin should be able to breathe the stuff but... our bodies just aren't built that way." Summer Scribe pulled a face: they absolutely couldn't sign over one of their important team members permanently! They need everypony to get out of this! She thought for a moment: it really seemed like the land sharks were resigned to dealing with the drow - if their weapons and tech was enough to trash the pirates, they'd do it in a blink of an eye, right? A scary thought given how much artillery they'd seen coming in. Anyway, perhaps a military alliance wasn't the right track, but ponies could do more than just make the trains run on time. With the right motivation and some time to research, unicorns could invent a spell for nearly anything! So perhaps she just needed to open the door to intrigue and curiosity and see what slipped through? Before anyone could correct Nutmeg's overly literal interpretation, Summer cleared her throat. "It's not just about what we can do to make trains run better, Firesteel: us ponies are masters of a wide variety of magic!" Thinking that a little demonstration would enhance her sales pitch, she opened her satchel and floating a coin out, letting it spin in mid air. "We have unicorns, with telekinesis and spellcraft - we have pegasi, masers of controlling the wind and weather, even one who's been crowned a Champion of the Wind: maybe you'd benefit from changing the climate up here or there? We have undead elementals, a water elemental, even a tech elemental..." a gesture to Nutmeg "...and that's just the start! We've also teamed up with Spyro and Sunburn: we're practically Skylander approved! Any of that spark your interest?" "Skylanders?" A short guttural laugh from Firesteel. "Like I'm gonna fall for that one. Haven't been no Skylanders since my grandpa's time! If you're just gonna waste my time..." Meanwhile Pitchblende was staring at the floating coin. "...that's a Magic trick, all right. A full roster of Elementals, you say?" He stared at Clashing Gale, as if seeing the batpony for the first time. "Is that one of the Undead?" "...huh" Firesteel followed his gaze. "Yeah, looks pretty spooky to me." He cocked his head at Summer Scribe, then grinned. "Oh yeah, I get it now, 'Skylander approved'. So a few of you elementals got together and now you're branding yourselves as Skylanders, The Next Generation?" His chuckle was like gravel in a cement mixer. "Smart move. Plenty of creatures ready to buy into that line." "...and I suppose she's the Air elemental." Pitchblende nodded at the griffon hen, before narrowing his eyes at Summer. "So were you under contract to attack the drow? Rescue slaves? Or was that merely, hmm, pro-bono vigilantism?" He steepled his rough hands, staring at Summer Scribe. "And what exactly are you offering us?" Grenelda's eyes shifted back and forth uncertainly... but she had to admitting she wanted the respect, maybe fame that would come with being an Air Elemental. Or at least pretending! So she just flicked a wing nonchalantly and neither confirmed nor denied the allegation. Clashing Gale continued to hold his tongue, even as the shark's attention was focused him. As much as he wanted to say that yes, he was one of the Undead, that would only lead to more questions. Admitting that he didn't know exactly what he was or what abilities he might possess - that surely wouldn't go down well. "Eh-heh, well, our flier team was just scouting the area, when the drow used their magical traps on them. Then they flew over and started the hostilities - we just made them pay for it. Besides, we really needed another airship," she admitted sheepishly. "Anyway, that's beside the point, unless you're thinking of paying us to go after the drow. We're pretty much offering, well.. our services, as magical beings! You don't have to make any agreements yet - we just think you'd like to see what we're capable of! Opportunity like this doesn't come every day - you'd be a fool to turn a blind eye to tomorrow's innovations!" Summer pushed her grin to the maximum, which made her look rather like a used cart salespony. Static Signal had stayed quiet, curled up at the base of Nutmeg's chair, but now she raised her head to speak. "You can't seriously think that slavery is ever a good investment." she told Pitchblende. "Before you enslave somepony, they might be willing to help you for very little in return. After you enslave somepony, they will kill you at the first opportunity, and be heroes for doing it. And it only takes one bad day, before you're the one in chains!" The nerdy shark gave the pegasus an almost pained look. "You... really believe that, do you? Have you ever been to the core? Do you even know what the drow do with their captives?" Firesteel seemed oblivious to any ethical debate, instead staring thoughtfully at Summer. Before Static could respond he sprang to his feet. "Pitch... a minute." the alpha shark said, gesturing at the door. "Let's have some refreshments, for our guests!" he told the rest of the sharks crowding around the boardroom, before striding into his office. Pitchblende frowned and hurried after him, closing the richly carved doors with a click. A long moment of silence, then a shark at the back piped up: "So... would you creatures like coffee, or perhaps rock wafers?" Summer Scribe let out a sigh of relief. "I think that might have worked...!" Then blinked as she processed the offer. Rock wafers? Like real rock? She opted for the more palatable choice: "Coffee sounds good." The unicorn rubbed behind her head with a hoof, still nervous. "What do you think, Nutmeg? I feel like we're only going to go free if we make a convincing enough sales pitch... and we didn't exactly come prepared!" There was no such sigh of relief from Clashing Gale: he was still blaming himself for this mess, or at least half of it. With a weak chuckle he reminded Summer. "They can still hear us, you know. Still... you're right. Should find out how good a salespony you are soon enough." "Is slavery really that bad?" Nutmeg Inferno asked uneasily, "I've heard about it, but it's just where you make someone work for you without paying them. You'd really... kill someone for enslaving you, Static?" "No, because they starve you so that you're too weak to fight back," Static replied, curling up again, "They clip your wings so you can't fly. You'll never be able to hurt anyone who enslaves you," she mumbled darkly, "They make sure of it." "That— that does sound pretty bad," Nutmeg admitted, paling, "I don't know what we're going to do. We aren't even supposed to negotiate. It's just... really hard not to! We shouldn't have brought the copter - I didn't think it'd be a big deal. Since when do org- ...creatures starve other creatures, just for the sake of pirates who were mad at losing? Are the drow really that powerful?" Another sigh from Summer, deeper this time. "Yeah, I wish this was just as easy as 'hi, we want stuff' and we'd figure out what the stuff is worth. But it really feels like we're fighting for our freedom here." She rubbed at her brow again. "It would be so, so convenient if we could take the drow down a peg... Everyone's deathly afraid of them, but I bet if we all stood up together - us, the gillmen, the griffins, the landsharks - they'd get wiped from the face of the Cloudbreak Islands. But how do we make them all see that?" Grenelda snerked and clicked her beak. "Either we stoke their anger... get them really furious about what the drow are doing... or reveal a weakness . Maybe give the pirates a wound that bleeds so hard everyone can smell it." She bobbed her head enthusiastically, thinking of all the weapons the sharks had flashed: get their claws on a few of those, and then they'd be cooking. That last comment drew a variety of looks from from the remaining sharks: wary, angry, even appreciative. The Equestrians fell silent as coffee was poured out and exceptionally tough biscuits were offered. From the far wall sounds of an increasingly heated argument could be heard, though with all the background noise on the train even pony ears couldn't make out the words. Finally the doors swung open again and the shark CEO strode back in. "So here's an idea. Why don't you uh... ponies... join us for a little field trip? Take a look at one of our mining operations. See if you can make it run a bit smoother." He flashed that enormous toothy grin again. "Substantial, erm, untapped potential in that field, if we could reduce, erm, wear and tear..." Pitchblende said, looking harried. "I would think that if you, erm... consultants, could deliver a solution to our excessive attrition rate, the specified aircraft parts could well be in scope for your renumeration." Summer Scribe looked over to Nutmeg Inferno, her face now covered in sweat from the tension. "...Whew. Looks like we have a chance then." She nodded and smiled at the senior sharks. "We'd be happy to give the place a look! I'm sure an outside perspective - and a healthy application of magic - will give you the results you crave. ... Err, to clarify, is it attrition of parts or people?" "Glad to hear it! Can't wait to hear your game plan! Was getting stuffy in here anyway." Firesteel said, waving his arms around and completely ignoring Summer's question. Pointing at one of the sharks who'd escorted them in, he said "Our guests are gonna wait in the VIP Lounge while we get the ships ready. Then they'll be taking a little trip on my yacht. Clear?" "Yes sir! Quite clear sir." came the immediate reply. A final grin from the burly shark and then he was disappearing back into his office; Pitchblende wrung his hands nervously then ran after him, closing the doors once more. "Either way it sounds a lot better than getting sold to the drow," Nutmeg mumbled, hopping over Static Signal to nose at her worriedly. The pegasus stood up, managed to unflatten her ears, then the two stood there with varying degrees of enthusiasm: a pleased if pretty clueless kirin, and an engineer unwilling to leave her boss behind even in dire peril. "Can you imagine if we could stop the attrition of people?" Nutmeg asked the other mare with a little elbow nudge. Static didn't respond, but her stony expression dropped as she blushed, not objecting to Nutmeg's suggestion. "You coming Clashing?" the kirin asked, looking hopefully back at the recently transmogrified bat pony. With a wince she added, "I know, it really sucks to just be dropped into this out of nowhere, huh?" The Equestrians were left to follow the dirt shark guards down the stairs and through more corridors, finally coming to the 'VIP lounge', which was indeed a rather plush bar resembling a gaudier version of the Harmony's saloon. The swaggering security sharks assured them that it would take less than an hour to get ready, and offered them drinks to pass the time. As they were lead deeper into the train, Summer Scribe let out a long breath, hoping this would turn out to be the start of things turning around. She was certainly impressed by the VIP lounge: opulent and luxurious to the extreme! She accepted a soda and began to sip, looking to see if her companions have any thoughts on that high-stakes meeting or their predicament. Clashing Gale looked a little surprised at Firesteel's sudden invitation, but stayed quiet until it was clear they were actually going to a lounge, not a cell. Finally dropping his poker face, he climbed onto one of the seats and sighed. Static Signal's obvious fear of becoming a slave had only deepened the guilt he was feeling about letting them walk straight into this situation. Maybe that was no longer on the cards, but... "Am I the only one who thinks this is still a really bad idea?" Summer Scribe mmms and responds to Clashing Gale. "Mmm maybe this approach wasn't the best idea, in retrospect... but we need propellers, and how else could we have gone about it? Right now we're just trying to navigate our way out of this mess without being worked to the bone or sold off to the drow, and I think we're doing ok so far." "I just don't know," Static Signal said, shaking her head, "If they were going to enslave us, why are they being so nice to us?" "Maybe they're not, and... they just have a really awesome place," Nutmeg offered, leaning on the bar with a foreleg, "That they just wanna share because they're awesome." "There's got to be a catch to this, yeah..." Static said, looking at Clashing with a sympathetic worry, "Sure would be nice if these sharks were just a little... harsh at bargaining, but still just wanting to be nice and..." she spared a glance at Nutmeg, "...awesome." "Can an awesome shark prepare you a drink?" the guard asked the kirin from behind the bar. "Oh, uh, just, you know," Nutmeg said nervously, "You got any... ale?"