//------------------------------// // Humor Me // Story: The Ties That Bind // by Scyphi //------------------------------// They were there in the galley for a good number of minutes, munching on the provided snacks and watching the encroaching storm draw ever nearer. Gallus wondered if they were going to end up flying into it soon unless something altered their course, and tried to decide if that was Gene Type’s intention or not, considering the stallion had never particularly clarified the matter. But finally, Gene Type returned in good spirits. “Good news!” he announced upon entering. “The blood tests have verified everything I’ve determined in previous tests. It’s looking very likely that we’re absolutely on the right track after all.” Gallus and Spike perked up at that with a mixture of both excitement and anxiousness. “So what now?” Spike asked as he and Gallus stood up. “Didn’t you say there was still one last test you wanted to do?” “Indeed!” Gene confirmed and motioned for them to follow. “It will be the final confirmation I need for all of this.” As they moved back into the lab though, Gallus couldn’t help but take note of how Gene Type appeared to be carrying himself entirely differently now. Instead of the nervous uncertainty he conveyed before, now he seemed filled with a resolute excitement. Given circumstances, this should’ve been understandable…but something about it gave Gallus pause. “So are you ever going to tell us just what this lead of yours is anyway?” he asked as they filed through the lab door. “Or do you intend to leave us in suspense forever?” “It’s…complicated,” Gene admitted with brief hesitation. “I don’t think you’d be able to understand without context, but this last test will help with that.” Gallus harrumphed, unable to shake the feeling that Gene Type was stalling. Spike apparently was unfazed though. “So what exactly is this test, anyway?” he asked as he and Gallus retook their spots in the examination seats. “I promise it will be very simple,” Gene pledged, moving the cart in front of them again—it had since been cleared of the previous test’s tools and replaced with another set. But instead of taking up any of these implements, he proceeded to turn around and head towards a storage locker at the back of the room. “But there’s something I need to show you two first.” He pulled open the locker and, using his magic, pulled out a roughly book-shaped object wrapped in cloth. He then returned and placed the flat object onto the cart with a gentle but notable thump—whatever it was, it had some weight to it—and started unfolding the cloth covering it. “Do either of you know what this is?” he asked as he revealed it and, grabbing the edges of the cloth with his magic, turned it around so it faced Spike and Gallus the right way up. It was a flat tablet hewn from a dark colored stone, its front etched with carved markings. At the top was a stylized crest featuring a dragon’s head flanked on either side by matching wings. Below that were three paragraphs of lettering, all of which in languages other than Ponish. Gallus didn’t recognize the tablet at all, but Spike did and jolted upright in shock. “That’s a bloodline stone!” he exclaimed, jabbing a claw at the tablet. “This should be with all of the others in the archive cave!” He gaped at Gene Type. “How do you even have this?” “Whoa, whoa, whoa, what’s a bloodline stone?” Gallus swiftly interrupted, not following. “It’s a type of dragon artifact,” Spike rapidly explained, turning to face Gallus. “It’s used to track who is or is not part of their respective bloodlines.” “Each tablet is magically coded to a particular bloodline and will glow should anyone of that bloodline come into contact with it,” Gene elaborated, adjusting his spectacles. “That way, if anyone is uncertain if another is a blood relation for whatever reason, they can use a bloodline stone to sort it out.” He paused. “Well, up to a certain extent at least—the bloodlines still shift around after a few generations, enough to constitute a new bloodline and in turn meriting the creation of new stones to compensate.” He motioned to the tablet. “That’s actually the story for this one, in fact. It was created for a relatively recent bloodline.” “So…this is a purely dragon thing then?” Gallus said, making sure he understood correctly. “That’s right,” Spike confirmed. “Then why does it also have ancient griffon writing on it?” Gallus pointed to the characters engraved on the tablet. The first two paragraphs were written with aggressive, curving, characters that were clearly part of an old draconic language. But the third and final paragraph used completely different characters composed of scratchier and straighter lines. Gallus couldn’t read what they said, but he had seen enough examples of the letters growing up to recognize the all-but dead griffon language on sight. Spike gaped at the tablet again, realizing this could be no ordinary bloodline stone. The implications reeling in his head, Spike’s awestruck gaze wandered up to Gene Type. “Gallus is right,” he murmured softly. “What does this have to do with us?” Gene Type used his magic to nudge the tablet a bit closer to him. “Touch it, and we’ll find out.” Both Spike and Gallus pulled back in shock at this request, its significance not at all lost on them. Gallus reacted with a negative expression, questioning the intent behind it, but Spike actually responded with visible fear at the idea. “No…I-I-I couldn’t!” he sputtered, leaning away from the tablet like he was suddenly afraid it would bite him. “I can see why you’d be uncertain, but…” Gene attempted to reassure. “You don’t understand!” Spike suddenly snapped in a panic. Then, regretting the outburst, he visibly tried to calm himself. Nevertheless, his breathing accelerated while staring at the stone lying before him with trepidation. “…after Ember became the dragon lord, she had me come to the Dragon Lands so to try and find a matching bloodline stone, hoping we’d figure out what my dragon bloodline was, who my actual parentage was. We were at it for hours, and must’ve tried every stone the dragons had in the archive cave.” He hung his head sadly. “…but none of them glowed. None at all.” Gene Type didn’t relent. “As I already indicated…this stone hasn’t been kept in the archive cave,” he reminded patiently. Spike still hesitated, his eyes filled with a mix of competing emotions, among which was a faint glimmer of hope…but it was nearly snuffed out again by the fear of the stone not reacting if he touched it. Uncertain, he gazed around at the others questioningly, clearly looking for guidance. Gene Type only looked intent and expectant, but Gallus gave him a look of support. So Spike looked back at the tablet and, drawing what strength he could, he hesitantly reached out, briefly jerking back at the last second, before finally resting his claw tip atop of it. Immediately, the tablet began to light up, its etchings rapidly filling with a magical green glow, sweeping outward from where Spike touched it like a circular shockwave until it had all lit up. It went dark again just as quickly when, with a yelp, Spike whisked his claw back as if it had been scalded, the little dragon gasping like he had just ran a marathon with how winded he suddenly seemed to be. Gene Type, however, was delighted by this. “Good, good!” he declared eagerly before again nudging the tablet with his magic, moving it in Gallus’s direction. “Now you,” he patiently asked the griffon. Gallus, already stunned by its reaction to Spike, just stared at him. “But I’m not a dragon,” he reminded. “Then why are there griffon characters on it?” Gene asked, motioning to the letters in question. When Gallus continued to stare at him, he added, “Just…humor me.” Gallus’s eyes narrowed before regarding the tablet for a long moment. He then glanced around at the others like Spike had, debating to himself. They’d all looked at him with patient expectance too, wondering what would happen. Gallus caught Spike’s eye and he made a small nod of encouragement—his way of reassuring that, whatever happened, it’d work out. Gallus wasn’t sure he believed that, lacking confidence the stone would do something if he touched it. But if so, then he might as well just get it over with. So, with this decided, he resolutely pressed a talon onto its surface. Like for Spike, it lit up immediately at his touch. His heart leaping into his throat, Gallus whipped his talon off of it too, his mind reeling from implications seemingly too ludicrous to even consider. “…what?” he breathed in shock. Gene Type, however, was crowing in victory. “I knew it!” he exclaimed, slamming a hoof onto the cart. “I KNEW IT! Ha haaaaaa—I knew you two were the ones!” Spike was trying to get his panicked breathing under control. “But…but what does this mean?” he gasped, trying to understand. “It means you two are precisely the creatures I thought you to be,” Gene Type responded resolutely, giggling with glee as he wrapped the tablet back up in its cloth and wheeling the cart to one side. He jabbed a hoof at them. “There is far more to the both of you than it appears.” “What the heck does that mean?” Gallus demanded, wanting answers. “It means I’ve succeeded, after so many moons, after so much work!” Gene stated, not exactly clarifying anything. The unicorn leaned back and pressed his hooves to his face with an excited laugh. “It means we can finally bring this matter to a close at long last! No more loose ends!” “…so many moons?” Spike repeated timidly, not understanding. “…We?” Gallus repeated, catching onto separate implications. Gene Type didn’t seem interested in explaining though, starting to calm down from his initial rush of excitement before turning to the other tools on the cart. “You know, it’s almost a pity,” he babbled as he worked, prepping a new pair of needles and syringes, presumably for his two test subjects. “It seems so weird that after so long, this resolution is going to be so, so, very fleeting. I almost wish I could delay just so to better study your genetics—oh, your genetic codes must be marvelous from the scientific perspective.” “What…what are you talking about?” Gallus demanded, a sick feeling starting to settle in his stomach. He heard Spike heave a sigh from beside him, the dragon too lost in flustered thought and too stunned to comment himself. This alone was concerning to Gallus, so the fact Gene Type seemed so indifferent about it only unsettled him more. Something was wrong here, very wrong. Gene Type, however, was focused on filling the two syringes with clear serum from an unmarked bottle. “But this final step must be done regardless,” he murmured. “It’s already been delayed for far too long.” He held up one of the syringes with his magic to ensure it was filled accordingly. “I am sorry though. You both seem like you’d be decent enough creatures, if it weren’t for the matter of your lineage.” “Lineage?” Gallus repeated, only growing more alarmed. His body tensed as it flooded with adrenaline, feeling like he needed to run and not look back. He eyed the syringes Gene Type was prepping warily. “What’s in those?” “Somulose,” Gene Type replied simply, replacing the cap to the mysterious bottle. Gallus went still. “…what’s that for?” “Euthanization, I’m afraid.” “Euthani—?” Gallus choked on the word as realization struck. “Euthaniza—!” He started to leap in Spike’s direction on the half-formed thought of grabbing him and running, but Gene Type was faster. With one flick of his horn, previously hidden restraints suddenly sprung free from the examination chair and wrapped themselves around all four of Gallus’s legs, went taunt, and then pulled him back into the chair, effectively pinning him. At the same time, identical straps likewise restrained Spike, while also slapping on a muzzle that completely covered his snout. “Mmf!” Spike let out a muffled cry. A faint flicker of flame around the edges of the muzzle showed he was trying to use his firebreath, but the magicked muzzle kept him from doing so. “MMMMFF!” he continued crying as he squirmed fruitlessly at his bindings. Gallus also struggled against his own restraints, but they kept his limbs tightly pinned down, except for his left foreleg which had been raised enough when the restraints appeared that it hadn’t gotten as tight a hold around his wrist. Given enough time and struggling, he was confident he could eventually slip it free, but he wasn’t sure he’d have that long as Gene Type now loomed towards him, the lethal needle ready in his magic. “Why are you doing this?” Gallus demanded as he desperately struggled to free himself. “I am sorry,” Gene Type repeated, and all the more unsettling, he seemed like he actually meant it. “But you are both too dangerous to be allowed to live.” “No…no…” Gallus repeated, struggling still and hearing Spike’s muffled screams as they both watched Gene Type raise the tip of the needle towards Gallus’s jugular. Gallus leaned his head as far away from it as his restraints would allow. “I recommend you just relax,” Gene urged as he tilted closer, struggling to line up the intended injection. “Think of it as just falling into a deep sleep…” It was at that point that Gallus, desperate and freeing his loose paw taking too long, head-butted Gene Type in the face. With a cry, the stallion stumbled backwards, but with a quick shake of his head, he lunged back, intent on plunging the needle into Gallus, but by then Gallus had liberated his paw and punched the unicorn in the side of his head as hard as he could. This time Gene crashed to the floor, and not only did he not recover immediately, the deadly syringe also shattered upon the floor. Gallus took the chance to focus on freeing his other limbs as quickly as he could. When he looked up again, Gene Type was up and desperately charging him again, having grabbed the other syringe and brandishing it menacingly, so Gallus grabbed the back of the examination chair for support and bucked the unicorn as hard as he could with both hind legs. This hurled Gene backwards to crash into the cart, tipping it over with a noisy clatter and another smash as the bottle of drug was now the one to shatter on the floor. However the second syringe simply rolled across the floor intact so Gallus, knowing the danger was by no means over, immediately turned to Spike. At first he went for the dragon’s arm restraints, but Spike made muffled jerks to his muzzle instead so Gallus ripped off that first. The second he did so, Spike started spewing jets of emerald green flames in a sweeping pattern from side to side of the lab, doing so just in time to force Gene Type—up on his hooves once again—to back away and seek cover or risk being burned. Spike managed to keep this up, stopping only to gulp in another quick breath of air before immediately continuing, until Gallus had undone all of the straps. The moment they were, they both bolted for the closest door out of the lab. “What are we going to do?” Spike shouted as they fled. “We’re jumping ship!” Gallus replied as they barreled out into the corridor. Spike was visibly disoriented in his panic though. “Which way to that cargo hatch?” Gallus turned in time to see a wild-eyed Gene Type suddenly burst through the lab’s other door, the remaining syringe held in his magic and geared to throw. Gallus quickly grabbed their door and flung it fully open as a shield just in time to hear the syringe hit it and shatter. “Not that way!” he declared, pushing Spike in the other direction towards the stairs leading to the upper deck. Spike obeyed, but clearly saw the obvious downside. “Is there even a way off the ship in this direction?” he demanded as they scampered up the stairs. “We’ll smash a window if we have to!” Gallus vowed as they burst into the upper deck. With the obvious sounds of Gene giving chase behind them, they didn’t slow and instead rushed down the new corridor, eyes zipping back and forth as they sought something, anything, that could help them. At the other end of the corridor was an open door through which a chair could be seen, giving Gallus an idea that would at least buy them time. “This way!” he commanded as they continued straight to the open door. The moment they were through, Gallus grabbed the chair from where it sat next to a central table and, slamming the door shut behind him, jammed the chair under its latch. He did so just in time, as a mere second later, Gene Type was heard slamming into the door, scrambling to try and force it open again, but for the moment, the chair was keeping it pinned shut. “Okay, I don’t know if that’s bought us much time, but it’s something!” he said, turning around to take in the room for the first time. To his surprise, they found themselves in the airship’s control cabin. In other circumstances, Gallus would’ve marveled that an airship of this size had it. Fully enclosed from the elements, its most eye-catching feature was its large and sweeping forward window, which arced from floor to ceiling and wrapped around the entire front third of the control room, giving a magnificent view outside the airship. Centered with it was the helm, its controls apparently on some kind of autopilot as it was still keeping the airship on course despite no one maintaining it. Closer to the back of the room were two control boards, one on the room’s left wall and another placed on the right. Centered in-between these two control panels was the table clearly meant for mapping and navigational purposes. But it wasn’t immediately clear how any of this helped them. Gallus’s eyes first went to the helm, but realized changing the airship’s course wouldn’t exactly stop their pursuer, and besides, the approaching storm was now closer than ever, so much so it filled the left half of the forward window with its dark clouds. In fact, now that Gallus thought about it, he could feel the airship beginning to be buffeted by the gusts the storm was throwing their way. Either way, it didn’t make for ideal airship flying conditions. So hearing Gene Type thump against the blocked door again, Gallus ruled out that option and turned his attention to the other two control panels. The left one appeared to simply be for ballast control, but the other was… “A radio!” Gallus declared, feeling a flare of hope as he rushed towards it, Spike following closely. “Maybe we can use this to call for help!” “Well, be quick about it!” Spike urged as he hung close to the griffon, clearly scared. He tensed as Gene Type was heard thumping on the door for a third time. “I don’t think he’s going to be giving up!” Gallus’s talons scrambled over the radio’s controls, switching it on. He only knew the basics of how it worked and was briefly uncertain what frequency to set it to before he spied a switch labeled EMERGENCY TRANSMIT—ALL CHANNELS and figured that applied to their situation perfectly. “Okay, uh,” he began as he pulled the microphone close, trying to decide what to transmit. “Ah, mayday, mayday, this is…actually I haven’t the foggiest idea what this tub’s name is, do you?” “No,” Spike replied. “Oh forget it—this is a research airship belonging to Gene Type, I know that much, and we’re aboard it, and we’re in danger! So, anyone hearing this, we need help ASAP! We’re…we’re, uh, we’re practically skimming a big storm out over sea, and, uh, we’re…droppings, what’s our location?” “Near the Griffish Isles.” “…Near the Griffish Isles, like, a couple miles out or so…I think we’re to the east?...there’s this little islet, and then we’re somewhere in the same area as that, and, and…” Gallus heard Gene slam into the door behind them again, and not only did he hear the door slip a little, he saw magical sparks fly from the latch suggesting the unicorn had begun using his magic to force it open. “…look, we just need help! Anyone hearing this, send help, fast as you can! We are in serious danger here! We’re trapped and cornered aboard this tub, and I don’t know how long we can stay safe! Gene Type’s gone absolutely mad, he’s gonna kill us if—” The door suddenly burst open, throwing the chair that had been pinning it aside, and a somewhat disheveled and glasses-less Gene Type stormed in, horn already alight and whipping around for his intended targets. Gallus tackled Spike and pushed themselves to the floor just in time for a bolt of magic to skim over their heads and explode the radio, leaving only a crater of broken circuits that snapped and arced with electricity. “You just had to make this harder for yourselves, didn’t you?” Gene snarled as he advanced on his prey, Gallus and Spike scrambling for the central table to use for cover. “I was trying to be courteous and make this as painless as possible, but you just had to go and mess that up, so now we have to do this the by far more agonizing way!” He again fired his horn at them and they ducked as the reckless shot sheared past and instead skimmed the helm. Something within it loudly popped on impact and suddenly the ship’s wheel started spinning freely, the deck lurching violently when the airship veered off-course in response. Soon the storm filled the forward window entirely as the craft turned freely into it, but the three creatures within barely noticed as the unexpected heaving caused them all to stumble and were now scrambling to beat each other back to their feet. Seeing Gene Type distracted though, Gallus grabbed Spike’s arm and ran for the door that’d been left hanging open. But before they reached it, the door slammed shut again and its latch sparked briefly as it was magically sealed. “Not so fast!” Gene Type declared as they turned to see him advancing on them again, horn still menacingly lit. “I cannot let you escape, not now!” “Well TOUGH NOOGIES!” Gallus unflatteringly bellowed back at him, grabbing the chair left on the floor and hurling it at the stallion. Gene Type dodged it, but this resulted in the chair bouncing off the throttle control next to the helm, harshly bumping the lever all the way forward. The engines roared to full power and the airship lurched as it rapidly accelerated. The sudden jolt caused every loose object in the cabin to be tossed backwards, including the three creatures, again sparing Gallus and Spike Gene’s wrath for another second as the stallion lost his aim. But he also recovered swiftly, so when the central table also tipped over onto its side, Spike and Gallus dove behind it for cover. Another magical blast from Gene Type struck the table’s edge as they dove, before the unicorn growled at yet another miss. But he didn’t immediately pursue them, leaving Gallus worried what the stallion might try next while desperately seeking some way to escape this alive. He then heard Gene Type breathe a sigh. “Look,” he said, sounding like he was trying to forcibly calm his voice. “I can understand your…poor…reaction to all this. That was why I was trying to make this easier for you both.” Gallus couldn’t help but scoff at that. “Anything that still ends in our deaths is hardly what I’d call easier!” he retorted. “Why are you doing this at all?” Spike demanded from where he huddled next to Gallus, clearly frightened. Without thinking, Gallus wrapped a wing around him protectively. “You don’t understand!” Gene stressed. Gallus tensed as he heard the pony start to step towards the table. “You two are not the creatures you think you are, and for that reason alone, we simply cannot take the risk. I am truly sorry, but…there’s simply no other way.” “But why?” Gallus stressed, “At least explain it to us!” He was trying to keep Gene Type talking while continuing to seek an escape. But he couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t also make them easy targets for Gene Type, and his hoofsteps coming closer along with the continued bumps and shudders of the airship as it flew uncontrolled into the storm was only giving him the sense that time was running out. And Gene wasn’t interested in stalling any longer. “There is no time,” he stressed as he started to walk around the table. “I was instructed to not delay acting on this.” Spike suddenly caught Gallus’s eye, bewildered. “Instructed by who?” he hissed. But Gallus didn’t reply, motioning to Spike to keep back, desperately hoping for salvation as time ran out to come up with a plan. He had a barely formed plan of tackling Gene as the unicorn finally came into view and immediately turned his horn towards them, but Spike reacted first, leaping forward to breathe a ball of fire at the attacking stallion. Surprised, Gene reared up and stumbled backwards trying to avoid getting burned. Gallus then prepared to tackle him anyway, hopefully to finally subdue Gene Type. But fate had other ideas as, before he could pounce, the airship suddenly jerked violently to one side, as if something had slammed into it. Thrown roughly to the floor with Spike piling on top of him and hearing Gene gasp as he overbalanced and tumbled out of view, Gallus heard the frame of the airship creak and groan beneath him, as well as something faintly cracking. He feared for a split second that the craft was about to fly apart. But instead, the airship automatically leveled itself, and while the flight remained turbulent within the storm that had, by now, completely swallowed it, things stabilized enough to pick himself up and get ready to continue the fight. He instead stopped in horror. Spike made a whimpering gasp as he saw too. Gene Type had stumbled backwards into the destroyed radio, falling directly upon the broken circuits that had continued to snap and arc with electricity this whole time. Every muscle in the stallion’s body was visibly tense, his eyes staring wide and unfocused, his head thrown back with his mouth open as if frozen in a silent yell. He wasn’t moving, but his horn was sporadically snapping with electrical energy in an uncontrolled manner. For a moment, Gallus just stared, stunned at the sight and already fearing the worst, before reason caught up to him and he turned to urgently scan the control cabin. Finally spying a small fuse box tucked into the back corner of the room, he hurried over and popped it open, scanning the switches within. Finding the one labeled “RADIO,” he flipped it off. The moment he did so, Gene Type went immediately limp, flopped to the floor, and remained still, eyes staring blankly and unseeing at nothing. Spike’s face paled as he stared at the limp pony. “He’s…he’s not…is he…?” “Yeah,” Gallus confirmed solemnly as he returned to Spike’s side numbly. “I, uh…I think he’s…” he made an uncomfortable swallow, “…dead.” Spike suddenly gagged. “Oh Celestia,” he managed to get out before urgently whipping around and, spying a wastebasket, ran to it and began emptying his stomach into it. Averting his eyes, Gallus allowed him a moment to do so while he tried to come to terms with this himself. Fortunately, Spike’s vomiting was over as swiftly as it began, but the dragon continued gripping the sides of the wastebasket unsteadily, his eye’s looking horrified. “We killed him,” he finally breathed after a long moment. “Hey, no,” Gallus immediately objected, coming to the young dragon’s side. “If anything, it was an accident, and even then it was obviously in self-defense! The guy was trying to murder us in cold blood, Spike!” “That doesn’t mean I like it!” Spike snapped back, before shaking his head and sinking to the floor. And Gallus found that as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t argue that point, looking back at Gene’s electrocuted body in dismay. A part of him still pitied the poor stallion, despite his dreadful actions. He groaned and pinched the bridge of his beak for a moment before another rolling rumble going through the airship brought him back to reality. “Look, we’ll…deal with that more later,” he promised, pulling Spike back to his feet. “We’ve got bigger issues to think about now.” “Yeah…yeah, okay,” Spike agreed numbly, but looking eager for some kind of distraction. “Okay,” Gallus confirmed with a nod and started towards the helm. “So how about we start by getting this tub out of the storm, huh?” “Okay,” Spike said, following him to the helm. He looked it up and down. “So, uh…do you know how to fly an airship?” “Ah…not really,” Gallus admitted as he also surveyed the controls. “Do you?” “…kind of?” Spike replied with an uncertain shrug. “I mean, Thorax is pretty big on airships, so I’ve probably gleaned something from listening to him go on about them, but…I don’t know if that’s enough to fly one…” “Well, it can’t be too hard,” Gallus reasoned as he wrapped his talons around the ship’s wheel and started to gently turn it to the left. “We’re both flying creatures, right? Turning this can’t be much different from turning in that.” Spike looked out the forward window at the storm swirling all around them, noting how extremely limited their visibility had become. “Do you even know the right way to turn?” He asked as he realized he had no idea what the airship’s position even was now. “We were somewhere to the east of the isles, right?” Gallus reasoned as he leaned his head over to look at the ship’s compass. “So if we just make sure we’re heading in the opposite direction of that…” but he trailed off upon realizing the magical attack that’d skimmed the helm earlier had also shattered the compass, leaving it completely nonfunctional. “…ah, we’ll just try and turn around and go back the way we came anyway. We’ll eventually reach the end of the storm if we fly for long enough, right?” But it was right about then that he realized a new problem—even though he was turning the ship’s wheel further and further left, the airship didn’t seem to be responding. Growing concerned, he turned the wheel all the way to the left as far as it would go. After a moment, he then spun it all the way to the right. But the only wavering in course the airship made throughout all of that was from the buffeting of the wind and rain, and as far as Gallus could tell, that wasn’t really turning them much at all. “…well, that’s a problem,” he noted aloud, feeling his heart sink. Spike was biting his lip and eyeing the long scorch mark that’d been left in the side of the helm. “Gene Type’s attack must have done something to damage the steering,” he guessed miserably. Gallus thumped a fist angrily on the side of the wheel. He forced himself to take a deep calming breath before he lost his already considerably frayed cool. “…okay, well, let’s at least try to slow this tub down before we get too much further away from where we want to be,” he reasoned aloud and reached for the throttle control. But he noted in dismay that the lever was stuck. Frowning, he wrapped both sets of talons around it and started tugging with all his strength. When that still didn’t budge, he planted both rear paws at its base for extra leverage and put all his body weight into it. Spike quickly jumped in to assist by grabbing Gallus around the middle and pulling too. At first it didn’t seem to be doing anything until Gallus felt the lever jiggle slightly and, hopes high, he gave it another big heave. Instead, the lever yanked free from its base with a loud snap, sending both dragon and griffon tumbling to the deck floor. Picking himself up, Gallus held up the lever still in his talons, then at the base it had snapped cleanly from right at the joint, then took in how the steady hum of the engines hadn’t changed at all, suggesting they were still going at full throttle and realized they now had no control over that either. “GAAAAAH!” Gallus yelled, throwing the now useless lever onto the floor before burying his face into both paws. Spike, meanwhile, seemed to shrink in upon himself in worry, claws playing with the advisor’s medallion around his neck. “Does…this mean what I think it means?” “That we’re stuck flying into a storm on a runaway airship with a dead guy?” Gallus recapped bitterly. “Yeah…it does.”