Title: The Negotiating Table
Author: Warren Peace
Content Warning: some crude language
“You were right about one thing, master. The negotiations were short...”
There was a slight tilt to the lonely passageway aboard the Raptor cloudship Resplendent. While it wasn’t enough to send a careless pony sliding, a dense layer of brass and steel shell casings had all settled down against the portside bulkhead. The bullets and grenades that had once nested in the shells now pockmarked the far end of the passageway. The powder that had given the projectiles their wild ride was a mild, sulphurous scent in the otherwise still air. A browning streak of blood lay at the end of the passageway, slithering away beneath the closed door.
A closed door that, with a sudden whisper, snapped open to let an Enclave officer perhaps a decade past her prime flutter out into the passageway. She settled down smartly past the drying streak of blood and gave her gray collar a quick tug as she let out a breath.
She had taken a light dabbling of makeup to her eyes in an effort to hide the dark circles beneath them, but other than that she looked shockingly presentable in spite of current circumstances. A pack of shower wipes had cleaned the grime from her dapple gray coat and a brush had made her midnight mane with its two-tone silver streak shine. Her only armament was the steely look on her face as she brought up a hoof-held broadcaster with one wing.
“Bridge, Commander Shrike. All clear. Go for cycle. Out,” Commander Shrike slotted the broadcaster back into a large pocket as it chirped a quick reply.
“Bridge copies. Good luck, ma’am. Fly steady.”
The door behind her hissed shut and there was a thump as the heavy lock ensured it would stay that way. Down at the unmarred end of the passageway there was a replying thump and a hiss as that door cycled open.
Commander Shrike resisted the sudden urge to void herself as a pair of hulking, steel-clad behemoths squeezed through the door. Side by side they clogged the passageway, impassive black eyepieces illuminated from within by targeting spells.
The first steel ranger’s battle saddle housed a pair of IF-48 grenade machine guns that could turn her into mulch with a quick burst. The second wore an IF-2 heavy machine gun over his right shoulder whose fifty caliber rounds could punch straight through her and at least three of the bulkheads behind her. Both of their armors were pockmarked with colorful splotches where magical energy weapons had failed to penetrate, but the second’s armor bore a red paint job that made Commander Shrike frown.
“I feel a little underdressed!” she remarked, raising a forehoof and spreading her wings to show she was unarmed.
“Turn around, face the door!” the unpainted ranger barked as he strode forwards, the red ranger taking up a position at his end of the passageway. “On your belly!”
“Yep,” Commander Shrike complied coolly with his commands, thankful she’d had the forethought to step past the bloody streak on the deck.
“Legs straight out and cross ‘em! Swish your tail to the left and spread your wings out wide!” the unpainted ranger stomped up to the Enclave mare’s right side, impassive helmet glaring down at her.
“Enjoy the view,” Commander Shrike snarked, doing as commanded.
“Quiet!” the unpainted ranger growled, resting an armored forehoof on her back. The Enclave mare had no doubt that he could crush her spine flat against the deck with ease if he wanted to. “Clear!” he finally called.
“Send her through!” the red ranger called back through the open door.
A youngish unicorn mare poked her white, freckled face past the door, the rest of her robed body following shortly thereafter. She trotted quickly down the corridor, Commander Shrike’s ears twisting around to listen.
“The pony doing the pat-down, I presume,” she spoke up, continuing with a wry grin. “Guessing it’s probably a little hard to do a cavity search in power armor.”
“It’ll only take a moment,” the scribe assured Commander Shrike as she came to a halt beside the unpainted ranger and lit up her horn. “Just hold still.”
“Sure, just tell me when you want me to spread my hinds and open the blinds,” Commander Shrike let out a quiet nicker. “My safe word is radishes.”
Her safe word, as it turned out, was unneeded as a soft glow highlighted a hoof-full of items through the pockets of her uniform.
“Her ID tags, some gum, lighter, a few bits, pen and notebook,” the scribe noted the items she was seeing, “and the broadcaster.” She dropped the spell, turning back down the passageway and calling, “She’s clear!”
“On your hooves, feather duster!” the unpainted ranger let Commander Shrike back up, keeping his weapons leveled at the door she’d come from. The Enclave mare ignored the slur, brushing herself off and straightening her uniform as she followed the scribe’s gesture to proceed down the passageway.
“That spell’s pretty nifty, I’m impressed,” Commander Shrike commented as the scribe fell in behind her. The unpainted ranger began to clomp slowly backwards as he held up the rear. When the scribe didn’t reply, she continued, “Any limitations to what it can detect?”
“Only limit is the caster’s skill,” the scribe allowed, if somewhat briskly.
“Ever use it to help your special somepony find your happy button?” Commander Shrike cast a sly grin over her withers, catching the fierce blush that overtook the scribe’s face.
“I hadn’t thought of that…” the scribe said in a quiet, almost thoughtful, voice. By now the group had reached the end of the passageway, the red ranger taking the lead and the unpainted ranger slapping the door controls after he was through. There was another powerful thunk as an Enclave pony on the bridge threw the lock.
“I’ve got an ex-husband who could certainly benefit from a spell like—” Commander Shrike began as they took a turn down a side passageway.
“Quiet, feather duster!” the unpainted ranger cut her off with a growl. “Elder Star wants to speak to you, we don’t.”
“I’m not even allowed an iota of conversation before you ponies march me to my probable doom?” Commander Shrike shot him a raised brow. “Or can a tough guy like you not stand a little bit of girl talk between the lovely young lady and me?”
The unpainted ranger snorted before replying, “I know what you’re doing! Trying to make yourself seem more relatable, more equine, thataway it’s supposed to be harder for us to kill you when the time comes!”
“Sounds like we’ve got the same kind of training, then,” if the ranger’s ultimatum disturbed the Enclave mare she didn’t show it in the calm of her voice. “Maybe we’re not so different after all.”
“We are nothing like you!” the unpainted ranger snarled with a powerful stomp that Commander Shrike could feel reverberate through the deck. “I heard what you bastards did to Friendship City! If you think we’re anything like that then you’re even dumber than you look!”
“Last I checked this is Vanhoover,” Commander Shrike countered coolly. “And other than crash landing here, we’ve done nothing to your city that won’t buff out with a little spit and shine. I’d try to appreciate that if I were you.”
“You’ll get what’s coming to you,” the unpainted ranger growled, a curt silence following in the conversation’s wake. The small group began to pass crude barricades that had been wedged or welded in place, small groups of power-armored rangers allowing them to pass with silent glares following the lone pegasus. The scribe departed down a side passageway wordlessly, leaving Commander Shrike with the power armored behemoths.
“Hate to be the one to point this out, Fuse, but: stable two...” the red ranger spoke up suddenly, earning a curious frown from Commander Shrike.
“What?” the unpainted ranger, Fuse, growled. “Oh, shut it, Dance! Elder Sabre’s actions were entirely justified! What they did there is nothing like what this nag and the rest of her race tried to do at Friendship city!”
Dance cast a look over his withers, though his helmet made it unreadable as he spoke, “I, for one, appreciate your restraint in regards to your defense of the Vanhoover tower, ma’am. As well as your willingness to come and talk with our leaders.”
“Our leaders, Dance?” Fuse let out a snort. “Your elder and star paladins are all dead! You don’t have anyone to send to the negotiating table! You’ll be lucky if Elder Star lets you ponies stay till the end of the week!”
Dance made a noncommittal grunt before turning his head forwards again.
Before Commander Shrike could probe the issue and answer the new series of questions in her head, the hangar bay opened up before them. With its greater size, the tilt to the deck was far more noticeable here, though still not hazardous. Commander Shrike took in the view as quick as she could, scowling up at the destroyed cameras throughout the hangar.
The various turrets in the overhead were all sparking and slagged, wires hanging like entrails with bullet holes and burn marks scattered about them. She counted a large number of power armored rangers and robed scribes, a few dozen of each. Her eyes darted to Dance’s red-painted armor and didn’t miss the fact that most of those in power armor shared the color scheme.
A few sky-tanks and bombing chariots were scattered about the interior, not nearly the full complement that the Resplendent had set out with. Most were now scattered about outside where they’d fallen after the Vanhoover tower had shot out its sonic rainboom. Commander Shrike’s only hope was that those inside had managed to escape back to the clouds or died fighting the good fight.
She squinted against the sunlight as she was led out of the hangar, stepping down a set of ramps that the ground-bound ponies had erected to enter the crashed cloudship. Most of the power armored ponies were positioned here where they could control the flow of bodies in and out of the crashed ship. Commander Shrike couldn’t help but notice a number of wasteland ponies giving the cloudship a wide berth, their eyes striking like knives at her wings.
Commander Shrike’s own eyes widened and then narrowed at the sight of a small group of pegasi who were tethered to long stakes driven into the ground. A small crowd of wastelanders were gathered around, staring and glaring while they threw watchful looks to a pair of red-armored rangers keeping watch over the prisoners. The pegasi all perked up at the sight of her, whispering to each other as their spirits were bolstered.
Commander Shrike tore her gaze swiftly away from their hopeful looks, feathers ruffling uncomfortably at her sides. She set her sights on the small table she was being led to where a unicorn buck was scowling at a red-armored ranger whose helmet rested on his withers.
“...conflict, a contingent’s senior paladins may designate one of their own to the rank of Elder,” the helmetless ranger was saying. Dance lifted a forehoof, signaling the group to stop a respectful distance from the two ponies. Fuse stepped up beside his compatriot, muttering something foul under his breath as he watched.
Commander Shrike took in the helmetless ranger’s features quickly; a chiseled, dirty yellow chin with a light orange mane slicked back close to his scalp. His turquoise eyes were hard, but intelligent as they bore down onto the unicorn’s face.
The ranger’s horned counterpart wore a sour expression on his cobalt blue face, his mane a bright white that curled into yellow tips. Aquamarine eyes struck back at the ranger as he spoke.
“I am the Elder of this contingent, Senior Paladin,” the unicorn stressed the ranger’s rank, his tone matching that of a dean speaking to a troublesome student. “As such, I am ordering you to stand down at once or face—!”
“You are the Elder of the Vanhoover Steel Rangers, Elder Star...” the ranger cut in with a steely tone, only for the unicorn to do the same.
“You will not speak over me!” Elder Star countered in a low and dangerous voice.
“...I am the acting Elder of Vanhoover’s Applejack’s Rangers,” the helmetless ranger finished, continuing unperturbed. “Until this conflict is resolved I am operating with all due authority of that rank,” Commander Shrike caught his stony eyes as they darted over to her, his firm jaw hiding his thoughts like a helmet as he turned back to Elder Star. “Let’s not bicker in front of company. Bad manners.”
Elder Star cast the Enclave mare and her escort a careful look before returning his gaze to the helmetless ranger. “You have no place at the negotiating table!”
“As Elder, I can order my scribes off of the ship,” the helmetless ranger offered, a small smile cracking the corners of his lips upwards.
“I...you…what?” Elder Star stammered back, the flame in his voice doused.
“In return for you allowing me to take part in the negotiation on behalf of my contingent, I will pull my scribes from the cloudship, granting yours free reign to do as they please,” his gaze turned to Commander Shrike, his lips pressing back into a line of steel as he continued. “My rangers will remain in full force, however, should they be needed once more.”
“Very well!” Elder Star allowed after a thoughtful moment. “Do so now.”
The helmetless ranger nodded, reaching back with a forehoof and setting his helmet over his head. “All callsigns, this is acting Elder Flower. All scribes are to depart the cloud vessel in an orderly fashion. This is neither an emergency or a drill, out.”
“A fitting name for such a mighty stallion,” Commander Shrike snarked as she was led forwards to the table. Elder Star sat on an old footlocker, adjusting his robes as he eyed Commander Shrike critically. Elder Flower removed his helmet and donned another unreadable look as he sat down in the dirt with a hiss of hydraulics.
“My mother certainly thought so,” Elder Flower deflected the jab with a cool tone.
“We are here to discuss important matters!” Elder Star butted in, tenting his hooves before him on the table as he sent a glare at the Enclave mare. “Are you ready to surrender peacefully, Commander? End this little...debacle you’ve gotten yourself into.”
“Only if you’re ready to back the hell off my ship so I can get my ponies out of here,” she lifted a hoof to where the prisoners were being guarded. “And release any of my ponies you’ve captured.”
“Out of the question,” Elder Star shook his head, stamping a hoof on the table for emphasis. “Your surrender will be unconditional. Any weapons or armor will be turned over to me and you will all be processed accordingly.”
“If that’s a fancy way of saying: “lined up and shot” then you can kiss my tailhole, pinhead,” Commander Shrike countered with a scowl.
“What did you just call me!?” Elder Star bristled and his horn ignited, lifting a magical pistol above the lip of the table. “Perhaps you would like to rephrase that response...”
“I could always tell you where you can shove that horn,” Commander Shrike cracked a venomous grin. “But you might get off—”
“Do the lives of your ponies really mean so little to you that you would risk their wellbeing on foalhood insults, Commander Shrike?” Elder Flower spoke up, his harsh tone cutting her voice short and forcing her grin into a sharp scowl. Elder Star smiled as the tables turned, only for the look to flounder as Elder Flower turned to him and spoke, “And are you going to be so easily goaded into shooting an unarmed enemy? Put that weapon away and tell her your terms.”
“There are no terms—!” Elder Star began.
“Then she’s not going to surrender to you, Elder Star, and if that is the case then you have no reason to be at this table,” the unicorn bristled at that, but Elder Flower continued, directing his flat voice to both the ponies now, “this is a negotiating table and we are negotiating over the lives of not just your ponies, Commander Shrike, but mine and Elder Star’s as well. If neither of you are able to see that, then perhaps we can all resume hostilities, keep killing each other for no good reason, and wind up turning that bucket of cloud-bolts into slag!” he waved a hoof at the Resplendent.
“Fine,” Elder Star spat out the word as if he’d agreed to take a sucker punch. He took a breath and the snarl on his face faded as he tented his hooves before him again. “Your ponies will be fed and sheltered under my care, Commander Shrike. For those who resist or rebel, adequate punishment shall be metered out, but I won’t have you all shot like raiders.
“In return, I will expect you all to assist my contingent in tearing down and salvaging what we can of your Raptor,” he waved a hoof to the vessel before tenting it again. “Your magic will prove useful in maintaining the systems until such a time as civilization is ready to rise again from this pitiful wasteland,” he actually managed a smile as he finished, “Who knows? Perhaps then our ancestors will be working hoof in hoof instead of at each other’s throats.”
“Hm,” Commander Shrike looked thoughtful for a moment, but Elder Star’s smile faded when she spoke. “So not only are we going to be slaves that you can work to death, but we’ll be breeding stock for wing fetishists.”
“Do not insult me—” Elder Star started with a disgusted look.
“Don’t insult me!” Commander Shrike butted in with a growl. “We already have a home, and we’re returning to it whether that be with the wings on our backs or by the wind on our ashes. One way or another, my ponies go home!” she jabbed a wing to where the pegasus prisoners were being kept, the volume of her voice carrying enough that a few of them managed a scattered set of approving hoof stomps. “If you can’t understand that, then maybe we should go back to turning each other into dust.”
“You started this war—” Elder Star started.
“Sixteen hundred pegasi at Maripony would disagree with that statement...” Commander Shrike let out a low growl.
“You, Commander Shrike,” Elder Star began again, speaking quickly in order to get his words out. “You crashed your ship here in my city and you will damn well help me salvage it!”
“You could always turn it into a museum,” Commander Shrike countered with a sudden grin that Elder Star refused to share. “Tell you what, maybe I can put in a good word up above and have an engineering regiment sent down to tear the whole mess down for you. Of course, you’ll need to let us all go in order to do that.”
“My contingent will be the beneficiary of any cloud-tech can be salvaged and, through them, all future generations of ponies!”
“So scrap it yourselves,” Commander Shrike let her grin fade away.
“Salvage!” Elder Star stressed the word. “And in order to do so and to properly understand it, we will need your pegasus magic!” he sat back slightly as if that was supposed to settle the matter and finished, “Hence why we need you or, perhaps, just some of you to stay behind.”
“No,” Commander Shrike rebutted.
The small smile that had started to grow across Elder Star’s face withered and died.
“Then perhaps it will be the wind carrying your ashes back home…” he leaned forward with the quiet threat.
“Perhaps it shall…” Commander Shrike matched his tone and gesture.
“Ahem,” Elder Flower cleared his throat, making both ponies flinch. “You’re not going to hear my offer?”
“Your what?!” Elder Star turned. “Your...you...you don’t—!”
“I am operating under the full vested authority, as written in our charter, of an Elder of the Steel Rangers. Or, as it were, the Applejack’s Rangers,” Elder Flower explained firmly. He turned to Commander Shrike’s raised brow and continued, “As such, my words hold just as much power as his do.”
“Probably helps that your troopers outnumber his,” Commander Shrike sprouted a clever smile, stepping back and resuming a non-threatening posture. “Just because you’re the bigger of the two physically doesn’t mean my terms change.”
“Fair enough,” Elder Flower nodded once, Elder Star wearing a glower as he continued, “We cannot evacuate your vessel and certainly not the city of Vanhoover—”
“Cannot or will not?” Commander Shrike interrupted.
“I’m not here to debate semantics, Commander,” Elder Flower shook his head once. “You will not give ground on your ship any more than I will. Blood was spilled and lives were lost taking it and it won’t be given up for anything less. Not to mention that Vanhoover is our home just as much as the skies are yours,” he lifted a hoof for emphasis. “A direct order would clear out my own ponies, but it would undermine my current position as Elder. Just as surely, you ordering your ponies to go out and surrender or die would be just as damaging to your position.”
“Nopony voted to make me Commander,” Commander Shrike sated.
“The uniform doesn’t make the mare,” Elder Flower countered. “You wouldn’t be the first Enclave leader to see her crew mutiny after giving an unpopular command.
“Regardless,” Elder Flower was back to business. “I also can’t order Elder Star’s ponies nor the free wastelanders who live here to leave everything they have for a couple hours while you evacuate.”
“Not even if you have more firepower?” Commander Shrike let the quiet suggestion hang in the air. Elder Flower shot it down with a flat look. “Hey, it’s always an option.”
“Perhaps,” the word made Elder Star bristle beside him. “But not an avenue I’m willing to take at this time.”
“So how am I supposed to get my ponies out of here?” Commander Shrike scowled, then looked around suddenly. “I’ll admit, if this is a distraction or a stall you’ve got my ass beat.”
“Trust,” the Enclave mare let out a snort at the word, but Elder Flower continued all the same, “Surrender to me. Turn over your weapons and power armor and I’ll escort you out of the city myself,” he gestured with a hoof towards the Raptor. “You’ll be given a chance to treat your wounded in your medical facilities, grab enough supplies to get you home, and I’ll even let you take one of the cloud ships, sans any weapons, to carry anypony too injured to fly or any dead.”
“Wow, that sounds too good to be true!” Commander Shrike smiled a thin smile, rolling her eyes. “And all we’ve gotta do to do that is give you our only means of defending ourselves?”
“Like I said: it will take some amount of trust.”
“And like we say above the clouds: words are wind.”
Elder Flower’s lips cracked upwards again. “That’s a good one. Here’s another that I’m certain you’re familiar with: actions speak louder than words,” Commander Shrike flinched when he made a sudden gesture with one of his hooves, looking over to where the prisoners were being kept.
“Don’t—” the word died on her lips as one of the guards tossed a keychain at the hooves of one of the prisoners. The other shrugged out of a set of saddlebags, kicking them gently towards him. The pegasus hesitated, then snatched up the keychain in a wing before trying it on his collar. The device snapped open, dropping to the dirt.
At a wave from one of the guards, the pegasus unlocked the rest of the prisoners. Two of them shot off into the sky the second they were free. One of those who stayed, with many a worried glance to their power armored guards, peered through the saddlebags before donning them with a nod to her captors.
“Ma’am?” the first pegasus called out to Commander Shrike hesitantly.
“Go!” she called back, getting a sharp salute before the remaining pegasi took to the skies as fast as their wings would carry them. There was a low rumble of dissent from the crowd of wastelanders as they glared after the retreating pegasi, but they dispersed without incident.
“I shouldn’t have to remind you that you have an obligation to the future generations!” Elder Star’s scowl followed the pegasi until they were dots against the open sky. He turned the look towards Elder Flower and continued, “without any pegasi to salvage—”
“I have pegasi to salvage the Raptor,” Elder Flower cut in firmly, his eyes darting to Commander Shrike inquisitive look. “Farmers who came down after the clouds around the tower were dispersed.”
“Farmers!?” Elder Star sputtered. “You can’t truly believe—”
“Some of whom are retired members of the Enclave military and are intimately familiar with the technology,” Elder Flower cut his counterpart off.
“I hope you’re not planning on forcing—” Commander Shrike started, only to receive the same treatment as Elder Star.
“They have agreed to work for my contingent. Something about finding out that the air isn’t actually poisonous down here really seemed to turn them off from returning to the clouds,” Elder Flower assuaged her worries, if pointedly. “Between the rain of rutabagas that came down with the clouds and the bulbs they managed to save they should be able to get something to grow. On top of that,” he turned to Elder Star again, “they have also agreed to help salvage what they can of any military cloud-tech we have.”
Elder Star replayed those words back in his head once or twice before speaking. “‘We have..?’” he parroted back.
“Officially recognize me as Elder of the Applejack’s Rangers of Vanhoover, let Commander Shrike and her pegasi surrender to me, and I’ll split what we can salvage fifty-fifty with your contingent,” another nigh-imperceptible smile turned his lips upwards.
“I…” Elder Star stammered, his thoughts turning inward as he grew quiet, his hooves tapping together before him.
“Take your time to think over my terms,” Elder Flower turned his attention back to Commander Shrike.
The Enclave mare took a moment to consider her words, regarding Elder Flower with an unreadable expression. “Letting a hoof-full of prisoners go isn’t that big a deal if you can bag a greater bunch later and with no bloodshed...” she spoke with a measured voice.
“It’s also not a big deal if I planned on letting you all go regardless,” Elder Flower replied.
“Hm,” Commander Shrike’s thoughtful expression remained for a moment. “I can’t give up my weapons or power armor.”
“What if I let you treat your wounded and send them on their way first?” Elder Flower offered. “Those already in a hors de combat status…” something flickered behind Commander Shrike’s eyes at the term, “...or who are otherwise unarmed will be escorted out of the city first. Once they’re all clear, those remaining will surrender their arms and armor, then they can go.”
Commander Shrike considered her words again, turning her gaze to where the pegasus prisoners had been held not a few minutes before.
“I’ll need a separate skytank for the dead,” she turned back to him.
“Don’t push your luck, Commander Shrike,” Elder Star spoke up. “One is—”
“Very well,” Elder Flower spoke over his counterpart, earning a scathing look that Elder Flower answered with a firm glare of his own. “Are you or are you not going to fulfill your part of this arrangement?”
“Sixty-forty,” Elder Star pushed. “After all, my scribes—”
“Deal,” Elder Flower answered, turning to Commander Shrike. “We will still be removing any weapons from the vessels you take with you.”
“Wounded get patched up, dead get packed up, both go first with my ponies in non-combat roles,” Commander Shrike went back over their deal out loud. “Once they’re clear...the rest of us turn over our weapons and armor before following them back to the clouds.”
“Under the power of the wings on your backs,” Elder Flower nodded. “Not as ashes blowing on the wind.”
Elder Star spoke up as the conversation lulled, “I agree to your terms...Elder Pear Flower,” the title came hesitantly, but Elder Star still managed to say it. He turned to look at Commander Shrike, keeping his gaze even and his hooves tented as he waited.
“If you plan on taking us prisoner after you’ve got our weapons we’re not going to go quiet,” Commander Shrike narrowed her gaze at both ponies.
“And if that’s not my plan?” Elder Flower asked.
Commander Shrike chewed over her words again, checking their taste as her eyes fell to the table before her. After a moment, she managed to spit them out with all the dignity she could muster.
“I surrender.”