//------------------------------// // Chapter 6: Operation Manticore, or something like that... // Story: Tidalverse: The Fearsome Foursome // by Alden MacManx //------------------------------// About two hours after dinner, Frick got a phone call from Smoking Horn. “Heard from Raven. Have an idea on how to get venom. We have to work together to get the stuff,” the shaman said. “What’s your idea, Smokey?” “Roscoe and I will be there within an hour. We have to strike tonight. Will talk when we get to you. Be ready,” Smoking Horn said before hanging up. Frick stared at his phone before shutting it off. “Rather abrupt, he is,” he snorted as he put the phone away. “Who was that, big bro?” Frack asked, looking up from whatever he was watching on his laptop. “Smoking Horn. He has an idea on how to get the manticore venom. We have to go get it tonight, though. He’s on his way here.” “Oh, what fun. At least we have more than enough fuel for the trip. Need to find some diesel fuel tanks before we set out.” “I know, bro,” Frick said with a sigh, running a hoof through his mane, which they still hadn’t trimmed yet. “Just one of the many concerns of a captain.” “Not to mention provisions, fresh ink and paper, and several cases of bottled coffee,” Fran added from the pilothouse.  “And a hundred and one little details we never seem to remember,” Frick added with a sigh. “Let me put on a fresh pot of coffee. How goes the research on manticores, Fran?” “Other than they are big, nasty, toxic and best approached with bullets? If we didn’t need some manticore venom, I would say stop going to that casino. Something we don’t need to gamble with,” she told the brothers. “Too bad what little we could get from Fred’s wound was too mixed with blood to be used. We’ll have to get it from the venom glands.” “Well, Horny says he has an idea. Hope it’s worthwhile,” Frick grunted. “It must be. He’s coming here after dark. What does that tell you, bro?” Frack countered with. Frick countered that with his own line. “HE thinks it’s important. Will WE?” That question was answered twenty minutes later, when Smoking Horn and Roscoe arrived, Roscoe carrying a satchel. The two sat in the saloon, with everyone but Fred and Wakinya gathered around. After having some coffee, Smoking Horn started talking. “Raven called me a little bit ago. He says that he is concerned about his associate, and is willing to help some. I have been gifted with a spell that will keep the manticores still and quiet, for two minutes. We will have that long to get the venom out of the manticores and get back to safety. “This is what I propose. Later tonight, about ten o’clock or so, four of us go back to the garage. We go up the stairway Fred did, open the door, and I cast the spell. The two minutes start then.” “Which four are going on this job?” Frick asked. “You, me, Roscoe and Fran. You and me, we will keep the manticores held down while Roscoe and Fran extract the venom. Roscoe has equipment that will help, as well as gloves and headlamps for him and Fran,” Smoking Horn said confidently. “Why me?” Fran asked. Roscoe spoke up. “Simple. You and I do NOT have hooves. We can move a lot quieter than the ponies can. That stealth will be important. The unicorns can hold the manticores still from the stairway door, while we get the venom.” “Mind if I throw my two cents in?” Frack asked. At Smoking Horn’s nod, he did. “I suggest that Freida and I be hovering outside the nest. We can have flashlights, and if needed, we can make a distraction to divert the manticore’s attention, hopefully long enough to allow everyone to get clear.” Smoking Horn and Roscoe looked at each other for a few seconds. “Raven said nothing about that, but I see nothing wrong with that idea. Let’s get going. We need to find the place in the dark,” Smokey said. “That, Frack and I can do, once we get going. We can fly down to the casino, determine where we tied up earlier, and set a couple of lights down to mark where to tie up. Only thing is, we’re going to have Fred to stay on the wheel while we’re out,” Freida said, joining the conversation. “How is Fred doing?” Smoking Horn asked. “Doing well, no effects of the poison seen yet. However, he has said he’s using his own healing ability on himself to keep the poison at bay. He does not know how long he can do it.” “Wakinya is there. Little Lightning Medicine Cloud is determined to help his grandpapa. Maybe he can,” Smoking Horn said with a sigh, clearly not believing his words. “That is yet to be determined.” Frick got to his hooves. “Cast off all lines once I start the engines. Freida, go fill Fred in, then get the chemlights to mark the position. Also, see me before you leave, I have one thing to give you,” he said. “What’s that, Frick?” Freida asked, getting up as well. “The flare gun, with two flares. I just have a feeling you may need it,” Frick told her as he went to the pilothouse. Smoking Horn actually smiled. “I see your plan, Frick. I like that idea. May we not need it.” “I hope so too, Smoking Horn. I don’t want to hurt them. Raven would not like it,” Frick said. “He won’t, but if you have to, he will understand. He knows you know his wishes, and will do your best to follow them,” Smoking Horn proclaimed. “Nice to know SOME god is on our side…” Frack mumbled, but not quiet enough to escape Smoking Horn’s attention… and retaliation. A smoke cloud that enveloped Frack’s head long enough for him to start flailing his head about, coughing at the scent of what was admittedly a wonderful tobacco and cherry mix, just a cloud thick enough that he couldn’t see through it. “You’re going to have to teach me that, Smokey,” Frick said in admiration. “On our way back, I’ll see what I can do.” Two hours later, the Deliverance was anchored a few hundred yards upstream of their target, the low-light optical system and short-range radar both on, trained at the garage. On the thermals, white blotches moved around, hard to identify, but easy to spot. The activity they spotted from the low-light optics surprised everyone who watched the scene play out on the saloon monitor. “What’s going on there? An Eagles concert?” Frack said, surprised at the amount of activity going on there. “Well, something’s going on for sure,” Frick said from the wheelhouse. “Notice that each level is inhabited, but by something different. We’re all pretty sure the two big blips going on and off the second floor are the manticores, smaller ones on the third, SOMEthing on the fourth, and they are all going to the roof and coming back. Feeding, maybe?” “If they’re feeding, just what are they feeding on? It’s dark up there!” Frack said, almost in a shout. “I would go up and look, but not at night. During the day will be soon enough. Let’s see if the activity will settle down some,” Freida observed from her position in the galley. “It has been, since we came into range. Maybe another hour will be enough. We only have until midnight, then I will forget the spell,” Smoking Horn said almost as a proclamation. “I say we go at ten-thirty. That should be enough time for us to get in and out.” “Yeah, but we weren’t expecting the neighbors to be up and about, visiting each other, Smokey!” Roscoe objected. “You going to explain that to Fred and Freida?” Fran snapped back. “If something happens to Fred, we lose Freida, too! Griffons mate for LIFE, Roscoe!” Everyone in the saloon and pilothouse recoiled at the venomous hiss in Fran’s voice. They had never heard THAT tone of voice from her before. Roscoe visibly wilted. “All hail the brainy bunch…” the dog whimpered, totally cowed by Fran’s outburst. “We WILL be saving Fred’s life tonight, no matter what the cost and pain, right?” Fran hissed, looking at everyone in turn. “I know it CAN be done, so we will all go and DO it! The neighbors didn’t bother us before, so by going in low, we should be all right, right?” “Why didn’t we notice the neighbors before?” Roscoe asked. “Because we didn’t look for them,” Smoking Horn shot back with. “We were all locked on rescuing the nightflyers, which we did.” “The proper species name is ‘Thestral’, Smoking Horn,” Fran corrected, her voice losing the venomous hiss. “I’ll pass that on to Raven. He calls them nightflyers,” Smoking Horn said. “Even gods can be wrong, Smokey,” Frick said reasonably. “They have to learn about the new strangenesses, too.” “That they do, Captain Frick. That they do.” At a quarter past ten, the Deliverance was being held in position by Fred at the controls. Frack and Freida were airborne, and the other four were stealthily making their way across the lot to the garage. The two unicorns had their hooves wrapped in towels, which made their hoofsteps quieter, though they both admitted it felt unusual.  Finding the door open, the four started going up the stairs, but they quickly found that even with the hoof wraps, it echoed in the stairwell. “Okay, now what?” Fran whispered.  “Captain, use your magic. Lift me and put me on the landing, then I will bring you to me. We do that again to get to the next floor. Coming down, we use our own magics to get down safely. Just use handrail, yes?” Smoking Horn asked. Frick just lit off his brilliant purple magic, which wrapped around Smoking Horn and slowly lifted him to the landing, Fran and Roscoe following. Once safely on the landing, Smoking Horn returned the compliment with an almond-scented gray cloud, then once more to get to the second floor access door. Cracking the door open, the four peered out at the manticore nest. From what they could tell, the two large manticores were curled protectively around the cubs. Smoking Horn muttered something in Lakota, and a vanilla-scented cloud gushed out of his horn and went to the nest, filling it before fading. “We have two minutes. Go now!” he said, and Roscoe and Fran raced out. They went to the male, whose tail was closest to the door. Fran opened her bag and put on some rubber gloves before taking out a small glass jar and a large eyedropper. Roscoe grabbed the segment of the tail just behind the stinger and squeezed. It took some effort to get some venom out, and more to get enough in the jar for their needs. “Bastard must have been doing some hunting after we left,” Roscoe said quietly. Fran quickly capped the jar and put it in her bag. “Ten seconds…” she hissed. “Let’s go!” Roscoe said as he sprinted to the door, Fran right on his heels. Too close, as she tripped and fell, fortunately turning enough to put the bag on top of her, not under. Smoking Horn sent out his almond-scented cloud while Frick’s glow appeared around the manticores.  Swiftly, Fran was carried back to the stairwell. Frick released the manticores before shutting the door as quietly as he could. “Let’s go,” he said as Fran regained her footing. “You lead, I bring up rear,” Smoking Horn said as Fran and Roscoe sprinted down the steps. “Right,” Frick agreed as he made his way down the steps, Smoking Horn forming a cloud behind them that smelled of licorice. The second-floor door flew inwards with a loud bang and a roar from a rather unhappy manticore. “Back shield up. Won’t get through,” Smoking Horn puffed as they made their way down the stairs. “We get outside, towels come off!” Frick grunted as they got down the flight of steps to the first floor. “Noise be damned, we need speed!” Frick keyed his radio. “Starbuck, keep your eyes open for the Cylon’s allies! We got the goods and are heading back to the Galactica! Exiting base star… now!” he said as the team came out of the stairway and made a beeline to the chemlights that marked where the boat was waiting. “Got our eyes on you, Apollo. Upstairs neighbors are some sort of bat and another sort of flyer about the size of a large crow. They’re not bothering us. In fact, when the roars started, many of them zipped back to their floors,” Frack reported. As soon as everyone was aboard, Fred gunned both motors and got the hell away from the Ameristar, heading upstream at just about full power. Frick went to the pilothouse to relieve him. “Feeling okay, Fred?” “A bit weak and tired. I can’t wipe the poison out of me, but I can stall it some. Wakinya says he should do some medicine, but only when I can’t say no.” Fred then snorted. “I believe the kid, too.” “Go lie down, Fred. Save your strength. More fun tomorrow, trying to find the rest of the stuff,” Frick grunted, paying attention to both the radar and low-light camera. Looking over the upper parapet of the garage, Amon-Thoth looked down at the fleeing boat. “They came here for a reason. They came back for a reason. Manticores are not happy. Need to get another breeding pair. Ground floor empty, second floor manticores, third floor pigeons and crows, fourth floor bats, fifth floor me and my garden. By summer, move more southwest. I really hate snow,” the huge old sphinx said quietly to himself before looking over his rather lush garden, kept warm and dry by the same globing field that masked perceptions coming in. Amon-Thoth didn’t want company, he wanted privacy. He aimed to get it. After tying up at Party Pier, the crew and guests (except Fred and Wakinya) gathered around the saloon table to figure out what is next on the to do list. “So, we have to find these herbs and plants and bring them back to the Sofa?” Freida asked, reading her copy of the cure’s recipe. “That is correct, Freida,” Smoking Horn said after a pull on his pipe. “You, Frack, Silverwing and Cold Current will go out tomorrow shortly after dawn to hunt. Cold Current knows several botanical gardens in the region. Seems to me those are the best places to look, yes?” “They are, but I’m a librarian, not a botanist! Many of the plants we are looking for I have not even heard of, much less what they look like! How would I know what to look for?” Freida said, her composure slipping a bit. “You won’t have to. Cold Current does, and maybe you should ask for photographs of the plants to be sent to you before you head out. They should be coming on shift about now,” Smoking Horn said calmly, looking at the two clocks set on the saloon walls, one set for local time, the other set for Maasvlakte time. “Friday morning there. Someone should be up soon. I’ll stay up late and send the message. Is there enough ink left in the printer, Fran?” Frick asked. “It will be close, Captain. I’ll have to scavenge for some tomorrow, along with a couple reams of paper. Good thing I have my bicycle,” Fran replied. “I’ll go with you, Fran. Maybe we can find a bike for me as well,” Roscoe offered. “There’s a bike shop not far from the Sofa.” “Good idea, Roscoe,” Smoking Horn said. “Tomorrow, you two do your scavenging. First Aid supplies will be of help, too, along with supplies for three more. Show up early and we can find out what thestrals require.” Fran nodded at the words. “I can do that. Once we can get a bicycle for Roscoe, we’ll be able to go farther and faster. Maybe we can also find baskets or a pull-along cart as well.” “Sounds like a plan,” Frick said, getting up. “I move we all head to bed, so we can be up in the morning. Sooner we get this potion made, sooner Fred will be alright, and we can get back to getting this colony going well before we push on downstream.” Everyone aboard took the hint, Smoking Horn and Roscoe getting up and putting their traveling gear on, Roscoe taking the jar of manticore poison. Freida showed the guests out before heading downstairs herself, Frack and Fran cleaning up, Frick heading to the pilothouse to send the message. Once the message was sent, he crashed out on the saloon sofa, in case a return call was made. The morning of Friday, January the eighth, dawned bright, clear and crisp. Gathering in Deliverance’s saloon are Frick, Frack, Freida and Fran from the crew, and Smoking Horn, Cold Current, Silverwing and Steady Pace. Frick took the lead, once all had coffee cups firmly in hoof (or equivalent). “Okay, we received photocopies of all the plants we need, plus some alternates in case the gardens here do not stock the primary plants,” Frick said to the group before looking at Smoking Horn. “You have all the labware needed to make the potions?” he asked. Smoking Horn solemnly puffed on his ever-present pipe before replying. “Enough to get started. What we don’t have now we will by tonight.” Steady Pace then spoke up. He is a school-bus yellow earth pony, with bright red hooves, mane and tail, who got his name by walking from Wichita to Kansas City in only a couple of days after his Return. Raven told him where to go. “I’ve done some chemistry work, not botanical, though. I’ve read the instructions, and I’m confident I can get the job done, with some help.” “All of our unicorns will take shifts to assist. How’s Fred doing?” Smoking Horn asked. “He’s resting well, with Wakinya by his side,” Freida told the group. “Fred’s saying that he’s holding off the venom effects for now, but he does not know for how long. Wakinya says that when Grandpapa can no longer say no, HE’s going to work some medicine, if he has to.” “That’s a kid for you,” Smoking Horn said through a pleasantly pungent cloud of pipe smoke. “I also have no doubt the kid WILL do something to help, so let’s make sure he doesn’t have to, okay?” “Sounds good to me, Chief,” Cold Current said. “I have the maps, they have the plans, we have the bags, and we will be back by nightfall. Everyone set to head out?” “My bags are packed, we’re ready to go, you just need to open the door, I say goodbye, we all fly!” Frack sang, his fully-charged radio and satphone strapped to his flight harness, along with two packs on his back, between his wings. As the foursome headed out, Smoking Horn asked Frick, “Is he always like that?” Frick nodded in agreement. “He is. It’s when he’s not that we have to worry. Ever since we returned, and he found he has his foot back, he hasn’t been happier in many years. We tolerate it because his humor can be infectious.” “Okay, then. You doing the day aboard, or is Fran? Maybe you would like to meet the nightflyers we rescued,” Smoking Horn asked. Frick looked at Fran, who just waved Frick on as she cleaned up the galley. “Looks like she is. Let’s get a move on.” “Right,” Smoking Horn agreed, leading the way out, Steady Pace and Frick following. In the skies over Kansas City, the four fliers gathered. “Where are we going first?” Freida asked. “Our first stop is the farthest, Powell Gardens. For that, we need to follow Seventy east to Bates City, then Highway Z south to the gardens,” Cold Current said before looking down and deciding which of the concrete ribbons below them was Interstate Seventy.  “Lead the way, Navigrater! We’ll be right behind you!” Frack laughed, tossing his head some, making his golden mane shimmer a little in the bright cold daylight. “This way, ladies and whatever else!” Cold Current called out with a laugh as the cormorant-mix hippogriff dropped out of hover and chose her roadway east, the rest following. “Whatever else? What do you mean by that, Coldie?” Frack asked. “You’re not dumb, Frack. You’ll figure it out!” Meanwhile, back at the Painted Sofa, Frick sat down with Smoking Horn at a table with the three thestrals, Margo Byrd, her teenage son Morgan and her nine-year-old daughter Lucy. Of the three, only Margo had a cutie mark, that being a yellow pen and paper pad symbol, which stood out against her dark fur. She looked up from the papers in front of her, which were printouts from the WSU about thestrals, along with a capsule history of the Event. “So the odds of us ever seeing Eric again are pretty much slim to none, right?” she asked. “That’s pretty much it, Margo. If he wasn’t in the RV with you, no telling when he will come back. Where is obvious, that being where he was. When could be anywhere from tomorrow to up to ten thousand years from now,” Frick said solemnly. “We had pulled in about three-thirty or so, looking to stop for the day. We had left Fargo at noon the day before, and made our way down to here. A flat tire slowed us down for a few hours around Omaha,” Margo said. “We three are together because we were in the RV together, right?” “That’s correct, Margo,” Smoking Horn said. “Has Raven spoken to any of you yet?” The three thestrals looked at each other. “No, no one has, that we know of. Do you mean the real, true, honest Raven, the trickster god?” Margo asked. “Yes. Now, thanks to the Event, magic, gods and such are as real as a slap in the face,” Smoking Horn told them. “I’m his principal shaman around here. We would like it if you joined the tribe. Better than being alone, right?” “You do have a point, Smoking Horn. You will let us join you?” Margo asked in reply. “We’re all Sioux here, except for Frick and his band. Raven would like it if you did. We will get our land back, our history back, our pride back,” Smoking Horn said in Lakota. Margo and the kids blinked at the words. “How?” Margo asked. “The proper way, Margo. By treating the land properly, without Washington sticking their fingers in.” “You speak Lakota a lot here?” Morgan asked. “We know some, but not well. One class a school year at Fort Peck.” “We will fix that, Morgan. In time, not right away,” Smoking Horn assured the teen thestral. “Will there be a place for me in your clan, Mister Horn?” Lucy asked. “Of course there will be, Lucy. We just have to determine what exactly that place is. Once Raven speaks to you, we will know more. Now, you and Morgan go with Cloudseeker and see about learning how to fly, okay? You have wings for a reason, now go learn to use them!” Smoking Horn directed, his smoke forming an arrow pointing to the black griffon. Once the children left with the griffon, Smoking Horn got serious. “We have a lot to talk about, all of us. Shall we start?” The four flyers landed in Powell Gardens, disregarding the gates. “Okay, everyone has a guide to what we’re looking for, so let’s start looking!” Freida squawked as she chose a direction, the other three choosing directions as well. The search took about two hours, occasional calls between the four telling of findings, or lack of them. The foursome gathered back where they started.  “By my count, we found four of the prime ingredients, and six possible substitutes. We COULD head back and get started, but I say we go to the next place and see if we can find more of the prime ingredients. Any objections?” Freida asked, stowing her lists in her pack. “I can’t think of any,” Cold Current said, the other two nodding in agreement. “Then, lead the way, Coldie!” Freida called out, taking wing, the others following. It took Cold Current about an hour to find the Overland Park Arboretum and Botanical Gardens, because she didn’t realize until later that the Gardens were not in Overland Park, but southeast of Olathe. The four landed by a nice little lake, and again Freida gave them directions on where to go and what to look for. She herself took to the herb garden by the lake. She busied herself there, finding herbs that not only fit the recipe, but would also be good for the kitchen as well. This went on for half an hour before Freida felt uncomfortable, like she was being watched. She looked around, spotting nothing at first, then a rock in the pond lifted up, revealing a six eyed froglike creature with sharp teeth in its mouth.  As they looked at each other, the froglike being croaked a few times, then spoke. “Leader will be out in a moment. Why you here?” it said to Freida. Freida blinked a few times before getting her wits collected enough to answer. “Gathering herbs to be used to make antidote for manticore poison. My husband was stung last night, and we don’t have much time to find and assemble the ingredients,” she managed to say to the big talking frog. “Wait for Leader. Be here soon,” the frog croaked before settling back into the water, again resembling a rock.  “Talking frogs. Doesn’t that beat all…” Freida trailed off as she saw a flock of colorful butterflies heading towards her. “No, butterflies in January has to beat all.” When the ‘butterflies’ got close enough, Freida saw they were a mix of pony and butterfly, with large gauzy wings and long antennae attached to a pony body that could not be more than three inches in any dimension. They were also of all colors, like ponies, but tending to solid colors than patterns, with large fluffy manes which some had styled into ornate shapes and whorls. The flock settled to perch on Freida, who barely noticed the contact, except for the one that settled on her nose, a rose-red in color with an elaborately-styled light pink bouffant mane-do. “I am the leader of this colony of breezies. You may call me Mrs. Harkness. Kermit says you mean no harm. Is that true?” the little breezie said, in a high-pitched squeaky voice. “Yes, it is true. We’re gathering ingredients for manticore poison antidote. My husband was stung yesterday. Can you help my friends and I find what we need?” Freida said quietly, not wanting to deafen the breezies. “Easily. We would like something in return as well,” Mrs. Harkness squeaked. “What would that be? If we can provide it, we will.” “Heat!” Mrs. Harkness shrilled. At that, all the breezies on Freida shivered. “It’s been cold!” “I can’t do so, but I know who can. Let me call him,” Freida said, carefully bringing out her radio. The breezies flew off, except for Mrs. Harkness, who enveloped herself in a pink glow. “Athena to Starbuck. Meet me at the landing place. Urgent.” she said into the microphone. “Are you in any trouble?” Frack called back. “No, but I can use your expertise. Get back here fast,” Freida said firmly as a shadow passed over her. “We’ll be right down, Athena!” Frack said before landing, along with Silverwing and Cold Current. After introductions and explanations, Frack got thoughtful, as did Silverwing. “I have an idea that can work. Portable greenhouses. We can set up one or two here, and let the sun heat up the inside. Problem would be getting them here,” Frack mused, pacing about as he thought. The breezies twittered and tweeted among themselves for a couple of moments before breaking up. “That will work, especially if you can set up more than one here. In exchange, we will gather what you need for the antidote and to make medicinal potions. How soon can you set one up?” Harkness squeaked. “If you can tell me where a Home Depot is nearby, I can try to bring one here and assemble it. I may not have time to finish before dark, but I can finish it tomorrow. But first, we have to get started making the potion for Fred. I’ve known him all my life, and I’m not about to lose him to no manticore!” Frack declared. “About three miles north on Sixty-Nine is an Ace Hardware. That’s closest,” Harkness squeaked. Silverwing then spoke up. “Everyone, I suggest we table this for the moment and get the ingredients back to make the potion we need. After that, we can get together with everyone in Kaycee and see about sending some down here to help out the breezies. If we’re going to do this, let’s do it properly, so we can make sure all sides are happy. Deal?” she said, sounding like the leader she could be. The breezies huddled again, squeaking in almost a supersonic range until they stopped. “Deal. We’ve survived this long, a few days more cannot hurt. We have knowledge of other potions as well, ones that speed healing as well as cure diseases. We will share our information with you in exchange for making our lives better,” Harkness told the group. “I will bring this matter up with my leader, Smoking Horn. I’m sure we can come up with something to get ponies and materials here to help. We’re based up in Kansas City, by the river. We will come up with something. I know where you are!” Silverwing said with a smile, which the breezies returned happily. “Okay, everyone! Let’s get our tuchises back and get this potion started. We don’t know how much time Fred has left,” Freida reminded them, a note of sadness in her voice. “One thing,” another breezie, a white one, shrilled. “There is a plant that will speed up the making of potions, and is a vital ingredient of the best healing potions. It’s called poison joke, and there is a large patch of it in the Kauffman Memorial Garden. Problem is, the patch is guarded by nasty creatures, like a bugbear, several cockatrices, and at least one basilisk.” “Kauffman Garden was our next stop. We’ll avoid it for now. Do we have enough ingredients for the antidote?” Silverwing asked. “You do. Go and save your friend. We will be here, waiting for you,” Harkness squeaked. “Okay, we’ll go now. We WILL be back, I assure you. Just can’t say when,” Cold Current said to the group. “Go in peace. Hurry, hurry!” Harkness squeaked with a laugh. “You heard the boss lady! Let’s move out!” Frack called as he took wing. Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Tonto, not knowing the Lone Ranger.... (glack! Easy with the stage hook, Bernie! That’s my neck, y’know!) Meanwhile, back at the Painted Sofa, Steady Pace, along with Roscoe and Trail Tracker, had returned from the Menard’s with an assembled storage shed, which they placed in the back alley, near to the power shack. While Roscoe ran some wiring into the shed, Pace and Trail Tracker started building the chem lab, according to the instructions sent over by the WSU. Frick went back to the Deliverance, to relieve Fran so she could find some more ink and paper for the printer. He found Fred dozing, Wakinya tucked in alongside him. With a nod, he headed back to the pilothouse to read any mail. “Recon Viper One to Galactica, do you copy?” Frack’s voice crackled over the radio. Frick picked up his radio. “This is Galactica. We read you three by, Recon Viper One. Where you been?” he asked. “Galactica, we got the goods! ETA to the outpost in about fifteen centons. These radios don’t have a lot of range. Have we got some news for you!” Frack said excitedly. “Well, then, after you drop off the goods, you and Athena get back here! Cassiopeia’s out shopping, and Tigh’s resting. I’ll have the coffee hot!” “Do that, Galactica! It’s cold out here!” “So turn on the heater in the Viper, Starbuck!” “Can’t! They took it out to save weight!” “Just get your tails back here when you can!” Frick said before going to the galley to make some coffee and milk. Half an hour later, Frack and Freida landed on the Pier, Fran having beaten them back by five minutes, having heard the chatter on her radio. Over hot coffee, the flyers told the ground pounders about meeting the breezies, what they had to offer and what they wanted in return. “Show me on the map where they are, so I can figure out how to get there,” Frick said after the report. When shown, he grew thoughtful. “By road, we’re going to have to see about converting a truck to get there. On hoof, it could take half a day. Frack, tomorrow I want you to scout this river and creek. I want to see how close we can get to this park by water,” Frick said, tapping the map with a hoof. “I doubt it, bro. That stream did not look nowhere near big enough for the boat,” Frack said, sounding dubious about the idea. “So, we make the stream bigger. If necessary, I’ll blast,” Frick replied, lighting up his horn with a bright purple glow. “You sure that will be safe, Frick?” Freida asked. “You sure that will be SMART, bro?” Frack asked. Fran didn’t say anything, but had a disapproving look that would put any cat to shame. Frick looked as confident as Frack usually does. “We won’t know if we don’t try, right?” Fran finally said something. “As my supervisor at the university, Mister Goldfarb, would say, ‘Kid, you’re meshuginah!” “Tell me something I don’t know, Fran,” Frick said after a sip of coffee. “New friends can use some help. We throw enough mud at the wall, something’s going to stick.” “Bro, tomorrow I’m going to scout every inch of the stream, from the Missouri River down to the Breezies. Let’s see how far we can go without having to blast. I would feel better if we were heading downstream, not upstream,” Frack said firmly, glaring at his big brother. “Little bro, I would not have it any other way,” Frick replied, sitting back and sipping some coffee. “Talk some more with them, get a better grip on what they need.” “I can do that.” The next morning showed a change of plan being put in effect. Fred, upon awakening, found his right hind leg (the one that got stung) felt weaker. It was decided that he would head for the Sofa and wait there for the antitoxin to finish brewing, which according to Steady Pace, should be sometime the next day. Freida and Wakinya went with him, not willing to leave him alone. Frack left early, to scout out the rivers, which left Frick and Fran free. After some discussion, Fran decided to stay aboard, saying there were some chores she could do, like sewing, grinding grain for flour and refilling the ink reservoirs in the printer, chores that she was willing to do, and Frick wasn’t. So, Frick went with the others to the Sofa, for ‘consultations’. At the Sofa, Frick had the opportunity to chat with the thestral family, which did wonders for his spirits. The hugs from Morgan and Lucy helped. After that, he talked with Smoking Horn and Silverwing. “I spoke with Asha Buhle earlier,” Smoking Horn led off with. “When I told her of the breezies, she was curious. When I mentioned the poison joke, she squealed like a rubber toy before calming down. Apparently, the stuff is hard to grow, but is absolutely essential to the production of some very high-power potions. It seems like they want as much of it as we can get them, and yesterday. I’m expecting someone to call later today, to see what we can hammer out. Asha said the big shots are going to be very interested. They must be. Noon here is what, seven at night there?” “About that,” Frick agreed. “It’s just how do we get past the guardians? Bugbear, basilisk and what else?” “Cockatrices. Yes, they are rough. Their gaze can turn you to stone. Literally,” Smoking Horn grunted through a cloud of pipe smoke. “Sounds like something to avoid,” Frick said. “You have any plans yet?” “Nope. I will, but not now. Ideas simmering on back burner.” Smoking Horn grunted as Steady Pace came in from the potion shed. “Okay, potion is mixed as per the directions. I just have to check it once an hour until the potion changes color. When it does, it will be ready to use,” he reported to the leaders. “That’s good to hear. How long will that be?” Frick asked. “Best guess is this time tomorrow. Instructions say it takes a day to finish. I just hope they are wrong,” Steady Pace said. “The Flower sisters will be working with me, so I don’t have to stay up the whole time.” “That’s good to hear. Don’t want to overwork you,” Smoking Horn said after a puff. “It’s for a friend. No fatalities on MY watch, not no way, not no how!” Steady Pace declared. “I’ll hold you to that, Pace,” Frick muttered. Frack reported in about four hours later. “Okay, bro, I’ve gone from one end to the other, and here’s what I found,” he said after having some lunch. “First, The Blue River, no problems with depth. You’re good all the way up until the fork. Wolf Creek, some of the way, is deep enough, but it is narrow and at least two bridges are too low. Maybe a third. It’s marginal, and I don’t want to chance it.” “How far away from the park is the closest we can safely get?” Frick asked. “The creek fork is about as far as I want to push it. Fortunately, we can pull over there, and it’s about a half-mile walk from there to the gardens. Only about a hundred yards of it is grass, the rest driveway or street. The hardest part is getting stuff off the boat to shore,” Frack reported. Frick thought for a moment. “How difficult would it be to fix up a car for us to drive, or a pickup truck?” he asked. “To be safe, a day at most. We’ll have to purify a tank of gas, not to mention clean out the tank and engine of the old gas. Putting in hoof controls, I would say no more than a day from start to finish. Of course, I’ll need to FIND something,” Frack admitted. “No problem. Sofa has a delivery truck. Big enough to haul furniture or greenhouse kits down. It’s in the garage, or I should say THEY are. We have two. I'll show you now, okay?” Smoking Horn said, looking happier than usual. Both brothers got up. “Lead on, Smokey!” Frack said. The unicorn led the brothers to the garage section. There, they found two large trucks, one gas, one diesel. Frack wasted no time going over them. “Does he know what he is doing?” Smoking Horn asked quietly. “You bet he does. He’s a master mechanic. If it can be fixed, he can fix it,” Frick replied in an equally quiet voice as Frack puttered about the trucks, checking each over thoroughly before making his pronouncement. “Okay, I’ve decided. We’ll take the gas powered one, because I can get it ready by nightfall. Smokey, who’s your best unicorn mechanic?” Frack asked, trying to get a smudge of grease off his nose. “Me. Why you ask?” Smoking Horn asked in reply, sounding startled. “Good. With your help, we’ll be done faster. Right now, we need a bunch of buckets. Have to drain the old gas out and run it through the purifier. Once that is started, we’ll have to change all the filters and the battery. Got any spares, or will we need a run to the parts store?” Frack said, prancing a little in place, eager to get started. “Got some spares. Let’s see what we have. Frick, get Silverwing and tell her to round up as many buckets as we can spare for gas recycling. Let the recycler know we have to divert supplies from the generators for a while. Have Roscoe come to see me here as well. Got it?” the shaman told the boat captain. Frick saluted the shaman. “Got it all, Chief. Will pass the word,” he said before turning in place at a marching stomp before heading out. Smoking Horn muttered to Frack, who was trying to hold back a laugh, “Are all you Nebraskans this crazy?” “Can’t speak of them all, but I can say we are!” Frack said with a chuckle. “It's our coping mechanism.” Smoking Horn looked at Frack dispassionately, a pungent cloud of tobacco and cherry coming from his pipe. “Okay. Parts room is over here. Let’s see what we got.” By sundown, the truck was ready to go, except for a full fueling. Frack and Smokey had drained, purified and replaced about eight gallons of gasoline, changed the oil, battery and fuel filter, and test started it. “Now, all we need to do is fuel it, load it, and get it down to the breezies,” Frack said after cleaning off his primaries. “You DO know what you are doing. Plus, I was able to follow your instructions with no problem. Were you a teacher Before?” Smoking Horn asked. Frack ducked his head, to hide the blush spreading through his ears. “Well, not officially, but the boss at the garage I worked at let me do my thing, showing people how to do the simpler stuff on their cars. Happier customers come back, and after thirty years working there, we had a lot of repeat business,” he admitted. “You do good at what you do, Frack. I don’t know why they say you’re dumb. You show me you’re not. I would like to…” Smoking Horn’s speech was interrupted by Frick racing into the garage. “Fred’s unconscious!” he shouted. “Wakinya’s about to do something!” “Like what?” Frack asked. “Don’t know, but his little horns are glowing! Come and see!” Frick shouted before turning and getting out of the garage, Frack and Smoking Horn hard on his hooves. They got to the bedroom section of the Sofa in time to see Wakinya pawing at the carpet on the floor, his whole body covered in a white glow, chanting something, Frieda and the rest of the Painted Sofa crowd obeying the instructions of the noted writer of books on explosive ordnance disposal, Stan Wellback. “What is he saying?” Frick asked. “Asking medicine spirits to guide him in helping his grandfather,” Smoking Horn said in a low voice, listening intently. “He’s invoking some powerful spirits.” “Will they come when called?” Frick asked, sounding worried. “We’ll find out,” Smoking Horn replied.