//------------------------------// // 4. Greenhorn // Story: Natural Light: A SolarPunk Story // by The Hat Man //------------------------------// The pale white mare with a gray mane and yellow eyes sat on a bench just outside the barracks. Her eyes were downcast, and she was shifting nervously and fidgeting with her hooves. She didn’t even notice Jackanapes at first when he trotted up and cleared his throat. “Oi,” he said, causing her to snap to attention. “Oh, sorry, sir! Was this your seat?” she asked, immediately getting to her hooves. He chuckled. “Yeh, course it is,” he said. “All these other benches you see around here? All public. ‘Cept this one. This one belongs to Yours Truly.” “Your name is Yours Truly?” she asked. Jackanapes burst into laughter. “Oh, you’re a real cut-up, lass! Nah nah, I’m only takin’ the piss.” She stared back at him. “Blimey… I’m funnin’ with you. Havin’ a laugh. I’m joking.” “O-oh,” she said, smiling weakly. “So, you are…?” “Well, my dear, my fellow clods all ‘round the Rabbit Hole call me Jackanapes.” There was a sudden gasp of recognition, and he swelled a bit with pride. “Well well welly well… seems my reputation precedes me, I take it?” “You’re… you’re like, a legend!” she breathed. “I’ve heard so many stories about you! Oh, sorry, my name is—” He immediately shoved a hoof to her lips, silencing her. “Best not, slab. First rule, if you want to run with us Shiners, is this: no names.” She blinked. “No… names? You mean that… that your name—” “—Ain’t really ‘Jackanapes,’” he replied with a wink. “See, when we was first formin’ up, the Imps would pinch one of us once in a while, and they’d ask for names and cutie marks, and the sorry sod they caught would cough up a name. Once they know who you are, they can find out where you came from, who your friends are, and who your family is.” Here he turned grave, narrowing his eyes. “And once they got that, they’ll use whatever they can to make you turn tail and fess up. Maybe even turn traitor. Hard to keep fightin’ the good fight when you know what they’ll do to your mum, your brother, your gran… d’you know what I mean?” She swallowed. “Yes. I see.” “Good. Speaking of which, lass, turn around an’ show me your arse.” Her cheeks colored and she covered her backside with her tail. “Come off it,” he sighed. “I got no interest in mares, for one thing. And I need to see your cutie mark, for another. Or more specifically make sure that I can’t.” “Oh,” she said, relaxing and turning to show him her flank, which was as blank as a newborn filly’s. “They covered it with some sort of gel that made it vanish.” “Just a bit of the goo we get from a few friendly changelings,” he said. "Changelings?!" “Yeh, there's a few of em still left after the purges,” he said with a shrug. “Most of em ran off to who-knows-where, but a few friendly ones joined up with us to stick it to the Imps what killed their mates.” “I see,” she said, calming herself. “Anyway, your cutie mark’s still there, mind you; just means nopony can see it is all. One less way for anypony to be identified.” He turned and lifted his coat, showing that he likewise had a completely blank flank. “But… with no name or identifying marks, how will anypony know what to call me?” “Glad you asked! Go ahead and an’ give me a nice soundin’ moniker of your own choosing, if you’d be so kind.” She bit her lip and considered it for a moment. “Um… oh! How about ‘Ghost?’” He raised an eyebrow. “B-because of my white coat? White? Like a ghost?” “Ahhh, I see, I see,” he said with a nod. “Right, won’t be usin’ that then!” “Huh?” she stammered. “Ya don’t get to pick your own handle, lass. If we let ponies do that, we’d have everypony around here callin’ themselves some puffed-up nonsense like ‘Maverick’ or ‘Ice-Mare’ or some such rubbish. So… ghosts go around an’ such in bedsheets, right? We’ll call ya ‘Sheet.’” She made a face. “My bunkmate is from Prance, sir,” she said. “If you call me that, it’s going to sound like she’s swearing at me all the time.” “How’s that?” “Well, with her accent… I imagine she’s going to call me and it will sound like she’s cursing. Like, ‘Sheet! Oh, Sheet!’ That sort of thing.” His grin grew exponentially. “Oh, well that settles it! That’s too funny not to use now!” She made a pitiful face and stared back with beseeching eyes. “Oh… fine, fine,” he said. “Look, how about ‘Spook?’ That good enough for you?” She smiled. “Sure. I can live with Spook.” “Apparently, so will your bunkmate. Give my regards to Toilette, by the way.” Spook blinked. “Wait, her name is ‘Toilette?’” “Used to wear perfume all the time. Eau de toilette. Hence the handle. ‘Spook’ seems pretty good about now, right?” “Jeez, I guess I got off easy. So, um… where’d ‘Jackanapes’ come from?” Jack straightened his jacket. “When I first graced this dingy cave with my handsome face, I told everypony to call me ‘Joker.’ Then the Octopus said my jokes went over like a wet squib and started callin’ me ‘Groaner.’ Still does, in fact. But then one day she goes off on me, right, screamin’ an’ hollerin’ at me to wake the dead, and she screams, ‘Groaner, I’m sick of you and all your damned... jackanapes!’ And wouldn’t you know it, the name stuck! And here I stand, Gentlecolt Jack in the flesh, the one and only Jackanapes!” He gave an exaggerated bow, and she chuckled. “Now, I do believe we’ve chewed the grass enough here, lass,” he said, turning and gesturing for her to follow. “I’ll give you a quick tour and see that you get yourself situated, so step lively, Spook.” Spook nodded. “Sounds good, sir! Where do we begin?” It took an hour to tour the entire facility, and by the end of it, Jackanapes was nearly hoarse from all his banter. Fortunately, he’d planned for the tour to end at Rockhoof’s Well, and so he took a seat at a crudely made table - the pub, like every other facility in the Rabbit Hole, was furnished with whatever collected and abandoned junk the Shiners could smuggle underground - and ordered a pint of ale for himself and Spook. “My treat,” he said, raising his glass to her. “You’re too kind,” she said, smiling sweetly as she raised the glass to her lips. “Might not think so once you’ve tasted it,” he said before taking a long swig. Spook took a sip and immediately made a face. “Um… what’s this made from?” she asked. “From whatever we could spare,” he replied. “Solaether tech ain’t cheap, you know. Most of what we bring in goes into buildin' the new tech, repairin' the old, and keepin' the bloody lights on. Can’t afford to import food, so’s we grow our own under artificial lights, and we can’t use the best bits of it for the brew, now can we?” Spook looked into the glass. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to seem ungrateful.” “Ah.” Jack took another sip and wiped the foam from his mouth. “Sorry, lass. Once I get going, it’s just a bit hard to stop, d’you know what I mean?” She nodded. “Besides, ya wanna know the best thing about this brew?” he asked. She tilted her head. “It's good an' strong, so the more of it you drink, the less you mind the taste,” he said with a wink. “Cheers, slab!” At that, he guzzled down more of his ale. She laughed, suppressed her gag reflex, and joined him in a long chug. She let out an unladylike belch that drew laughter from the table nearby and a grin from Jackanapes. “So, sorry for all the dumb questions I’ve been asking you all day,” she said. “Ain’t no trouble at all,” Jackanapes said with a shrug. “Well… then do you mind if I ask another? He shook his head. “I had an image in my head… all the stories of the Shiners. The fancy solaether gadgets, the fight against the Imperials, and all the earthers they’ve helped. It sounded so… glamorous. Like some wild and crazy adventure. And I’m glad to be here, I really am… but all the stuff you told me about today…” “Not all glitz and glam, is it, clod?” She shook her head. “The violence. The danger. Ponies have been telling me almost nonstop that I have to listen and remember all these different things, or I’ll end up getting killed or thrown in some Imperial dungeon or interrogation chamber. By the stars, Jackanapes, you killed two ponies today, and here you are just going about your day like it was nothing!” If Jack was bothered by the statement, he gave no sign of it. He merely nodded. “It’s just… all this stuff we’re putting ourselves through, living in a cave, keeping our names and cutie marks secret, never seeing our families back home, risking our lives… is it even worth it? Really?” Jack took a long, deep breath and let it out slowly through his nostrils. “I’d be lyin’ if I said it were all shits an’ giggles,” he replied. “I didn’t plan on taking up the life of a revolutionary. Or ‘terrorist,’ if you listen to the Imps. An’ whatever you think of me, let me assure you: killin’ ponies ain’t ‘nothing.’ I scorn to do anypony a misfortune if I can avoid it.” He paused and took another long drink, finishing his glass and pounding it noisily on the table. “But some days, you can’t avoid it. And if I got to endure a taste of Tartarus, and some Imp’s got to get his neck cut so’s us earthers might one day be worth more’n the dirt we dig in, then yeah… I’d say it bloody well is worth it.” She bowed her head, nodding to him quietly. “Besides,” he said, motioning to the barkeep for another pint, “it ain’t all bad. Definitely ain’t boring, I’ll say that much. An’ trying out the Octopus’s latest thingamabob is always worth a laugh. Adventure, excitement, an’ not giving nine-tenths of me earnins to some snotty unicorn git with a pole up his arse… may well be a short life, but at least it’s a free one. An’ that’s a damn sight better than the alternative, innit?” Spook drank the last of her ale and likewise motioned for another one. “Fair point,” she said. “And on days when all that’s not enough,” Jack added as the server arrived with his second drink, “I remember that there’s other things what make life worth living.” “Like what?” she asked. He opened his mouth to answer when a shout suddenly rang out: “Jack!” Jackanapes whirled around at the familiar voice and was on his hooves in an instant. A short distance away was Hobnail. He was there, still with his bowler hat on, not a scratch on him, and a jubilant smile on his face. “Hob!” Jack exclaimed, and galloped over to him, sweeping him up in a hug. “Hob, you plonker, what took you so long?!” Hobnail hugged him back. “Sorry, Jack. I had to keep hidden until I was sure the Imps were gone, and they stuck around for almost the entire day.” He drew back and took a good look at him. “But what about you? I heard they almost caught you!” “Well, they caught something else instead,” Jack said, polishing a hoof on his chest. “You ought to know it’ll take more than a few pointy-pointies and wing-dings to bring down a clever bastard like me. What, did you go an’ do something foolish, like worrying about me?” Hobnail’s lip quivered and his eyes grew damp. “Oh… damn it all, Hob,” Jack said, embracing him once again. “S’alright now, me lad. S’alright.” Spook watched the scene unfold before her. When her second ale arrived, she simply left it on the table and trotted off, leaving it for the reunited pair as she returned to her barracks.