The iron doors of the cell slid shut with a metallic click. The guardspony walked back and forth slowly in front of the cell, jingling her keys. All was quiet for a minute. The four ponies huddled into the two cells had been told not to talk or make noise at all... or else.
Daring sat in the same cell as Scootaround, while Burly was shut up in the same cells as Audacity, right next to the one containing Daring. She couldn’t see through the wall dividing the two cells in the brig, but hearing the others would be no problem at all. They just had to wait for the guard to pay a little less close attention.
For almost an hour they sat in cold silence, hearing the rumble of the ship around them and little else. The guard contented herself to sitting down in a chair on the other side of the brig. For a while she watched the prisoners, then after perhaps ten minutes of watching them sit idly she decided to read the newspaper.
Burly thought of the layout of the airship based off the diagram he had seen. The brig was near the very bottom, adjacent to the hangar bay where the four support craft were stored. The entry to the bay was actually a level higher though, and that meant ascending and ducking through a series of corridors even if they could get the iron bars off. He wasn’t sure if there was scaffolding on the outside or access ladders close enough to the brig’s emergency exit.
The ponies took a bit of a nap as the journey continued. As time dragged on even the guard drew tired of watching them in silence. She took out a record player and popped on some slow classical music. She had a book entitled Of Mice and Mares that she was reading by now, and was totally engrossed in the story. Now was their chance to communicate under the cover of the music and the guard’s relative ignorance.
“Psst.... Daring?”
“Yes Audacity?”
“What’s your plan?”
“Uhh.... I’ll get back to you when I have one.”
Daring was well known for making her plans up on the spot, but at the moment she was at a loss. There was a set of keys on a desk beside the guard, but they were far out of reach, and even if they had something to reach with it would disturb the guard.
Scootaround’s floppy cap came off as the filly searched for her tool that she kept underneath the brim. She reached underneath and produced a wiry instrument she had kept from her days on the street, before Daring had taken her under her wing. It was a lockpick.
A smile came across Daring’s face as the filly stood up, leaving the cap on the floor and attempting to reach out the door with the lock pick. It almost seemed too easy that she just happened to keep the tool with her.
“What are you doing?!” exclaimed a voice. A pair of hooves clasped themselves around Scootaround’s hoof, which she had stuck out through the bars to try to pick the lock with. The lockpick was wrenched from her hooves by the guard and hastily slapped down on the desk next to the actual keys. Scootaround shuffled back deeper into the cell once she was released, plopping her cap back down over her grayish brown mane.
“Nice try,” whispered Burly from the cell next to theirs, “but that was a little too obvious. You’ve got to be sneakier.”
They paused for a moment, remaining quiet for several minutes as the record was flipped by the guard and the other side began playing.
“Any ideas, anypony?”
“We could wait until they have to feed us, and then jump them,” suggested Audacity. Both Burly and Daring seemed to disagree.
“That seems a bit too reckless,” Daring whispered.
“They’re armed,” chimed in Burly.
“Oh, ok...”
More time passed. The records changed several times, and the guard occupied her time reading various books and magazines in an attempt to keep busy. As things dragged on, her countenance drew tired. Her eyes blinked slowly. She yawned as she flipped the pages. It was not long before she had drifted off entirely, head hanging down over the pages of her book.
With the mare asleep, the prisoners were much more open to whispering to each other. A problem presented itself in that there was no conceivable way to get out of the cell now that Scootaround had had her tools taken away. A meter stick was propped up against a table beyond the metal bars of Audacity’s cell next to a saw. A wooden bench was propped upside down on top of the table as the glue dried. Apparently the brig had been used as a temporary wood shop as there had been no prisoners before them.
Audacity stretched his hoof out, straining to make it reach the bottom of the meter stick. If he could get it to fall over and allow him to move it, he might have a chance at knocking the saw off from the table and towards their cell. He could almost reach it.
Audacity’s stretched hoof bumped into the bottom of the meter stick, and he tried pushing it off balance to get it to fall in his direction. Much to his disdain the object toppled over and clattered noisily to the floor even farther way. There was a collective sharp intake of breath as the sound caused the guard to stir, but a moment later she was as deeply asleep as before.
“Alright, I have an idea,” Burly whispered.
“Do tell,” Daring whispered back.
“You see that paneling above your head?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s covering up an unfinished feature they wanted to install. They never completed the ducts to the brig, that’s why it’s so stuffy in here.”
There was a moment of silence as everypony processed what had just been said.
“How do you know this, exactly?” Audacity asked quietly.
“I took a look at the diagrams in the cockpit while Elise had me tied up there. It showed the ducts all right, but with a big old black line drawn in last minute once they covered them up. Some kind of note about not having the right fan.”
“I’ll do it,” Scootaround volunteered. Daring blinked at her.
“Do what?”
“Crawl up the vent, isn’t that what you guys are talking about?”
“Kid,” Burly whispered from the other side of the wall, “We didn’t say anything about crawling up there. It’s pretty skinny for starters....”
“I’m pretty small...”
“...and it also leads to the outside of the ship, right below the balloon.”
“I bet I could find a way to get back inside. Aren’t there ladders on the side?”
“Well, I suppose, but...”
“Scootaround, are you sure you want to do this?”
“It looks like the only way out of here.”
****
The paneling tore off rather easily, revealing the metallic finish of the duct. Even on Daring’s shoulders as the adventuress stood on her hind legs, Scootaround didn’t quite reach. She could barely reach the lip of the opening.
“New plan,” Daring said, flapping her wings to gain a little bit of height. The boost closed the gap quickly, and Scootaround jumped up into the dark air vent with a resonant clang.
“Try not to make a whole lot of noise,” Daring whispered, “Good luck Scoots!”
The filly reached a horizontal level and soon became stuck on the inside of the vent. Her flank was just slightly wider than the width of the very thin duct. In frustration she squirmed and wiggled, struggling to move forward. Though it took quite a bit of effort and several exasperated groans, she began to make progress.
From the horizontal section, Scootaround came to a vertical slant that went downwards to the right. Scrunching her legs in as close as possible to her sides, the small pony tried to slide down with some success. The metallic walls slid by with ease as she coasted to a stop in one final horizontal section, now much lower than when she had started.
“Whoah!” Scootaround yelped as she stopped herself from sliding any farther, as she realized that the ducts ended suddenly before her. She felt the chilling breeze of the high-altitude air rush past her, nipping at her cheeks. She tightened her worn-out hat down over her head to keep it from blowing off as she climbed out of the duct and fell the two meters distance between herself and the platform below.
“Ooft!”
The filly brushed herself off and looked around. She tried not to glance down at the ground below her, or lack thereof. All she could see was clouds, in fact the cloud coverage was so thick that it made seeing what was ahead of her on the scaffolding a difficult task. It was almost like being in a rolling, thick fog.
She walked ahead slowly and carefully. There was only a metal grate below her, and no hoof rails or anything lining the sides. She completed the next portion rather quickly as she came to a ladder along the side of the dirigible that would bring her up another level, where there was an open port window. Hoof over hoof, she lifted herself up the freezing steel ladder. The wind swept around her with a howl, sending her mane flapping and threatening to sweep her hat away. Scootaround reached the higher surface, and now that she had use of her front hooves she re-tightened her cap.
The filly squeezed her way through the tiny opening of the window, small in size and circular in shape. As she popped out into the interior of the Airship she took a moment to regain her bearings. Since she had climbed a level on the ladder, she would have to descend a level to reach the brig. No, she had descended from the brig to reach the outside in the first place, so the brig was on her level. Or was it actually a level below her since she had first needed to travel up through the ceiling of the brig to get into the ducts?
Lost and confused, the filly quietly snuck down the riveted corridor with a furtive expression. She would need to keep on the lookout for crew or other CAP agents as she tried to locate the brig. There was a double door to her right, and since it was the only one that didn’t require her to lift a noisy latch to enter, she took it. Quietly and quickly she pushed to doors open and slid in unobtrusively.
“I cannae believe this. I thought I told you to use-a something with the pasta for lunch so we wouldn’t-a have all this excess!” cried a voice from the room Scootaround entered. A big pony with a whitish coat and a very dark black mane rounded the corner, holding a saucepan filled with a bubbling liquid.
“What’s-a this!?” he said with a very thick accent. Scootaround winced, certain that he had seen her. She waited for him to grab her angrily, but he did not. Peeking from under her hoof, she saw that he was examining some kind of list printed out on paper and pasted to the wall. Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, Scootaround found the nearest set of shelves and moved behind several bulky bags of flour to remain hidden. She was in the airship’s kitchen. No doubt the chef was preparing some kind of meal to serve to the crew later.
“Why would the captain serve a pasta dish now and not get rid of the frozen goods? It won’t-a keep in the warmer temperatures so well.”
“Just serve the frozen stuff,” said a second voice, belonging to a mare somewhere else with a very scratchy throat. She sounded like she needed to clear it badly.
“Well I guess. The captain might-a get upset for messing up her menu plans,”
“She won’t care too much. She doesn’t even pay attention to what the crew eats, since she has her own customized menu. Her and Broken Bank, her boss.”
“I’ve-a never talked to Mr. Bank, actually. I know he’s the big one in charge of everything around here, though.”
Scootaround slowly began making her way towards a rolling cart that had a long cloth covering the top and drooping down over the sides, long enough to cover the lower shelf. When she saw that the coast was clear as the chef began slicing onions, she darted out and hid inside the bottom of the cart.
“Ack, these onions-a make me cry. Stromboli, get-a me some of that frozen custard out of the freezer!”
“Right away Chef!”
A few minutes passed as the sound of chopping, dicing and scooping mixed with the kitchen ambience. Scootaround was kind of impatient to get moving, as she had to get to the others ASAP and dawdling in the kitchen was a waste of precious time. She was almost ready to come out from beneath the cart and make a break for it when it suddenly went into motion.
“I’ve got the salad bar stuff going out to the dining room, be right back,” a strange voice called. Scootaround felt the cart jostle beneath her, bumping up and down as it went from the smooth tiled floor of the kitchen to the rougher wooden floor of the airship’s dining hall. The sub-cook who had rolled the cart out remained only for a moment to unload materials, and then left to re-enter the kitchen, leaving Scootaround alone.
The filly exited from beneath the cart, looking around at the dining hall. It was less of a dining hall and more of a cramped mess. There wasn’t too much room for a big expensive room on a ship that was meant to house about forty or fifty tomb raiders and thieves combined. It wasn’t any commercial ship or luxury yacht.
Through the other door she flew quickly, coming to a set of branching paths in an empty corridor. She could tell why there were so few ponies out and about: the corridors were absolutely freezing. She started shivering on the spot, her breath becoming visible. Perhaps it was the altitude or the climate. The filly quickly moved towards a set of stairs leading downwards, and sure enough there was the brig, clearly labeled in stenciled letters.
Scootaround opened the door quietly, not wanting to make a sound to disturb the guard that was currently asleep. She tip-hoofed into the room, shutting the door behind her. With a grunt, the mare sitting in her chair let out a terribly loud snore. The effect would have been more comical had the stakes not been so high for the filly. She quickly went to the small table to the mare’s side, scooping up her own unlocking tool and slipping it up underneath her cap’s brim. She took the actual keys and got to work. Daring gave her a gratified grin as the lock clicked and the door swung free. Moments later the two stallions were also free.
“Good work, kid,” Daring said, rumpling the top of Scootaround’s head. She looked over to Burly Withers for a moment, non verbally asking for direction. If he had studied the maps of this dirigible, then he would know the best route to take from here.
“Out the door,” he mouthed, sidestepping Daring and opening up the door to the brig. He didn’t use very much care and swung it open casually, resulting in a terribly loud squeak. Everypony winced as they heard it, and their hearts leaped as the guard’s eyes shot wide open.
“Go, go, go!” Daring hurriedly chanted. The two stallions and Scootaround left through the open door quickly as the guard leaped to her hooves.
“WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE-” she began to shriek, but Daring was quick to clap a hoof to her mouth, silencing her. The guard struggled, pushing Daring from her and sending her toppling down onto the table. It collapsed under her weight and sent objects and papers flying.
“I’m calling backup!” the mare stammered, flipping a red switch next to her. With a jolt, alarms began sounding and lights in the hallway began flashing red. Daring rushed at her, attacking at the legs and bringing the guard to the floor. With a quick motion she picked her struggling form up off the ground and hurled her into the cell, slamming the bars shut with a great clang.
Rushing out the door, Daring caught sight of Audacity, Scootaround and Burly rounding a corner. They had to hurry now that the entire ship knew they had escaped. She galloped quickly down the cold corridor, catching up behind the others. The blaring alarms hurt her ears and she could hear the chaotic commotion above their heads on the upper corridor as ponies began rushing around to try and find them.
“Just through here!” Burly called, having to yell over the sound of the alarm’s wail to be heard. He punched the door open with a hoof, and the four of them spilled out into the wide area of the cargo bay, which also served as the hangar. The area was split into two levels, an upper level that they were now on and a lower level. The lower level was more wide and open and connected to the upper balcony-like area by a set of ladders. A wide door showed where the bay opened to the outside, and there were also four smaller doors on the sides of the lover level. There were few to no ponies down there yet, though there was one operating a crane lift on their own level, which had a piano attached to the end of a great hook over the cargo bay. With a quick jab to the chin Burly sent him down to the floor.
“Where are the planes?” Daring asked, looking around. She saw no aircraft of any kind, just a bunch of crates, empty dollies and a piano suspended in midair from the utility crane.
“Side areas. Notice the four doors? We need somepony to operate the release from up here while the other three drag them out.”
“You guys are all bigger and stronger, you should pull,” suggested the filly. Daring nodded.
“How does it work, though? What does she have to do?” Audacity wondered. Burly went over to the panel that the unconscious pony had been standing at a moment earlier.
“This operates that crane I think. See the stick? Up and down moves it forward and back, left and right moves it left and right. The lever raises and lowers it. Huh, nothing about the bay doors,” he noted.
“Over here, “ Daring called from not too far away. She was looking at a panel on the side of the wall, with five buttons. One for each of the plane bay doors, and one for the main door of the hangar. They were appropriately labeled.
“Excellent,” Burly said, “I’ll give you a shout from down there when I need the doors opened up. You good, kid?”
“Yup.”
The other three ponies descended the ladders with very quick movements, spreading out along the lower level and congregating down by plane bay #1.
“Open her up!” called Burly. Scootaround looked up to the panel above her, which was a little too high for her to reach. There was a button labeled “1”, so she jumped up and pressed the button above her. There was a buzz and a click, and the door slid upwards down in the main cargo area. It revealed a two-seater biplane, one seat for the pilot and a back seat for a machine gun operator. They must have been leftovers from the Great War a few decades ago. Working together, the three adult ponies pulled the craft out and into the center of the cargo bay.
“There’s four of us, and two seats. Better get a second one,” Daring called out. Scootaround reached up and pressed the button labeled “2”.
At that moment, several angry yells could be heard down in the main cargo bay. A set of lower doors opened up, and a group of three armed agents approached, guns drawn and pointed at the three escapees.
“Stop right there, hooves where I can see them!” one of them called out. Scootaround pressed herself against the door of the upper level, noticing a latch that would lock it from the inside. She slid it closed, not wanting more to come from her level. She also kept quiet as she moved to the shadows, not wanting to be seen.
“What, so you thought it would be that easy to get away?” the leader of the armed group sneered, “You thought you could just get up and walk out? Steal our planes and fly off? I think not!”
“It’s not right for you guys to be holding us in the first place!” Daring called back angrily, but a cock of the gun and a more intense aim at her head made her clam up quickly.
“I didn’t ask for your opinion! Now, be a good pony and come with us. We’ll be keeping a very close eye on you this ti-”
With a terrible chord a great piano swung sideways into the group of armed ponies, knocking them over and sending them tumbling over each other like bowling pins. Their weapons left them, clattering to the floor and going off with a loud BANG. As several tried to regain themselves and pick up their weapons the piano swung back around, this time slamming them up against the side wall with a loud crunch and another jarring chord from the musical equipment. They did not get up.
“Thanks kid!” called Daring. Scootround gave them a whoop from behind the crane controls, and they got back to work preparing the second plane. It took another few minutes to get both crafts situated to face outwards and evenly, but once they were ready Scootaround pressed the largest of the door operation buttons, exposing the cargo bay to the rush of cold wind, snowflakes, and crisp air of the outside.
“Get down here!” Daring called, “We’re going!”
Though Daring was perfectly capable of flying on her own without the use of a plane, Scootaround was not, and both Burly and Audacity were flightless. With two planes, they could keep together and fly south, landing somewhere hospitable until they could figure out how to get to the deserts. Scootaround climbed into the back seat of Daring’s plane. Audacity got the gunner’s seat of Burly’s plane, and after a start of the engines both planes left the cargo bay simultaneously, just as another group of angry CAP agents and crew members came in.
The air was frigid and cold, but spirits were high as the great zeppelin disappeared behind them, shrinking smaller and smaller and gradually becoming obscured by a coverage of clouds.
“Whoo hoo, great job everypony!” Daring called over the radios that linked the two planes. Her voice was crackly and intermittent with static, but the message went through.
“Where to now?” Burly’s voice inquired.
“There’s a sizable city further south from where I think we are. I think we’re just north of Shetland at this point. We can put down there, probably an hour’s flight from here.”
****
For perhaps an entire half hour they flew uneventfully past clouds and over the frigid sea. Land was in sight ahead, just over the horizon. They would be there sooner than expected.
“So what are we gonna do once we get to Shetland?” Scootaround asked.
“Well,” Daring began, “I don’t know about you, but I need a shower. I feel all gross and icky. A nap would be good, too. Though I think we should make our stay brief and be out in the morning on our way south.”
“What’s the rush?” Audacity’s voice came through the radio. Daring looked at it curiously. She had forgotten that it had been turned on.
“Don’t you remember? The Coalition’s got a bearing on the last marker as well. They’ll already have a head start as it is. We can’t afford to spend more than a single night,” Daring answered. She heard some kind of low rumbling behind her.
“You hungry?” she said, looking back to Scootaround.
“Yeah, a bit. I hope we can get something to eat once we land.”
“I just heard your tummy growl.”
“My tummy wasn’t growling.”
As soon as she finished her sentence, the rumbling came back. Daring listened again. It was a low rumbling mixed with some kind of faint buzz, almost like a distant swarm of bees. She saw two black points far behind them, in the clouds.
Growing larger.
“Scootaround, quick! My bag’s back there with you, see if you can’t find my binoculars and tell me what those planes behind us look like.”
The filly fumbled around inside Daring’s canvas bag, an old bag that had at one time housed a gas mask for a soldier but now had been repurposed as a stuffsack for odds and ends. One of the many objects inside was a pair of binoculars. The filly placed them to her own eyes, twisting the dial to focus in on the approaching craft.
“Tannish color. Biplanes, two of them. Just like the ones we’re in. Wait a second...”
“What?”
“They are the same ones we’re in. They have the letters CAP on the side, just like ours.”
“Ah.... shit...”
“Bad language,” the filly reminded Daring.
“This is bad,” Daring said with a frown.
“What is it?” came Burly’s voice through the radio.
“Two more CAP planes on our tails. They’re closing in quickly.”
“Alright. We’re close to Shetland, maybe we can land before they-” began Audacity, but he was interrupted by a loud sound of bullets whizzing past and clipping the edge of the wing. There was no significant damage, but it scared the living daylights out of everypony.
“WOAH WOAH WOAH, THEY’RE SHOOTING!” Audacity exclaimed.
“Audacity, Scootaround, return fire!” called Burly over the radio.
The biplane containing Burly and Audacity swooped to the left while Daring’s craft went right. The two planes went in opposite directions in hopes that they would split the attention of the two bilanes following them.
“Seven o’ clock!” called Daring loudly over the roar of their engines and the rapid rattle of gunfire whizzing through the air.
“It’s not Seven o’ clock, it’s barely 5:30!” Scootaround called back.
“No! The plane’s directions are like a clock! Twelve, three, six, nine... seven o’ clock, FIRE!!!”
The filly turned the oversized gun mounted in her seat around, focusing in on the biplane that was following them. They were much closer now, and she could actually see the pilot bearing down on them. She squeezed the trigger down with a hoof, and the gun began firing off rounds in rapid succession. The motion was deafening and also rattled the entire seat she was in, leaving the filly somewhat shaken. The plane swooped overhead and out of her firing line.
“You’re gonna have to aim better than that. Clip their wings or the tail! Three o’ clock!”
Scootaround swung her weight sideways and the turret swiveled in its socket, turning to face the other direction. The enemy plane was mid-turn, returning for another run at them. She fixated her sights on their right wing and squeezed the trigger down.
RATATATATATATATAT
She followed the motion of the plane, and there was a burst of smoke from the wing she had been aiming at. She stopped for a moment to watch, but the plane swung sideways. A burst of gunfire came at them from the other plane, raking across their underbelly and sending sparks flying. A trail of smoke was now pouring from their own plane as well, which became a little jerky.
“Daring, you guys are hit!” called Burly’s voice, yelling over the mic. The sounds of Audacity yelling and firing off rounds was audible in the background.
“We got clipped underneath. How bad is it?”
“You’ll be ok for now. Look out, they’re coming back for another run!”
“Scootaround, eleven o’clock! Fire!”
The filly swung herself around once more, firing in an arc and managing to catch the side of the CAP plane, puncturing it with holes and causing another burst of flame, followed by a trail of smoke. The other plane were losing altitude fast, but before they began their inevitable downwards spiral a few shots raked across Daring’s plane, striking the rudder and vertical stabilizer. It was ripped completely apart, and their plane jolted.
“They got us in the tail!”
“Hold on, we’re gonna have to land real soon!”
“Huh?”
“We’re gonna crash!”
The plane began diving down fast and uncontrollably. Daring attempted to stabilize the craft as best she could, but it hurtled downwards towards the rocky cliffs of the coastline. She couldn’t get the controls to work in time, there was no way they could pull up in time.
Leaping out of the cockpit, Daring twisted herself back and grabbed Scootaround with her hooves. The filly latched onto the bag she carried with her as Daring spread her wings and took to the skies. Below them the now-empty plane collided with the rocks, exploding in a fiery fireball and sending shrapnel soaring. Daring sped up to avoid being struck. She swiftly circled back to take them to the dry land above the cliffs, swooping down and setting Scootaround down in a dry field of grass overlooking the vista of the seas. They had landed in northern Shetland.
Daring collapsed on the grass herself, looking up to the skies as the plane that had been firing at them fell hobbled its way back towards its home base, crippled and barely able to remain aloft. A single plane circled around where she had last seen Audacity and Burly. She motioned to Scootaround for the binoculars, which the filly pulled out from Daring’s bag.
Looking through the device and focusing, Daring was able to see a yellowish pony in the back and a blueish pony in the front, both wearing wide-brimmed tall crown hats of varying levels of distress. Audacity and Burly Withers had made it out alive.
“They made it!” Daring said with a relief. Scootaround pumped her hoof and got up from the grass.
“Where are we?”
“Probably a farmer’s field. I see the remains of crops not too far away. I think Burly’s gonna put down on the road, we’d better go up there to meet them. From there, we can walk.”
“And then?”
“And then, a shower, some sleep, and we’ll be on our way tomorrow.”