//------------------------------// // Chapter Four: Exordium // Story: Leaves on the Wind // by Mickey Dubs //------------------------------// Chapter Four: Exordium “Explain yourself" Bastion growled, his leg pointed awkwardly to his side as he reclined in the wooden chair beneath him, addressing the sweating doctor before them. The crew had finally settled around the kitchen table, their hooves drying from the amniotic muck and their whispers dying away as they sat in rapt attention, awaiting what was to come. Wind Dancer was the only one mobile: the pegasus balanced a pot of tea on a pad on his back, sliding out cups to his fellow crew members as he passed behind them. He gave a little nudge to Violet who, with a nod and glimmer of magic, proceeded to divvy out her brew, bobbing the piping teapot from one member of the crew to the other as she stared with the Captain at the doctor who stood away at the head of the table. Salve had returned with Golden Sun from delivering his shivering and terrified sister to the medical bay, and as he stared at the floor and pawed the ground in hesitation the priest passed by through the door frame and gave him a polite but firm little nod to bid him speak. The Doctor allowed himself a deep calming breath and a long sigh before clearing his throat to began his story. His eyes held the floor as if he addressed the little hybrid directly below his hooves in the medical bay, and the smallest of smiles played over his face as he watched over her form afar. The crew stared at him wordlessly as he mumbled his words, giving him an opportunity to struggle through his memories. “…I am very smart, but there is still so much I do not understand…” Salve began, looking up from his vigil over his sister and directly into Violet’s eyes. He found them to be quite warmer than the room in which he stood, a room he was barely aware of as everything else save her died away. He blocked out the world and focused on her kind face alone, and found it was the push he needed to continue. “I had little trouble in medical school, graduated at the top of my class, and have done well for myself working in the finest hospitals all around the inner Alliance planets, even though my family came from little wealth and great hardships. While I enjoyed my work, and the sizable paycheck that came with it, I found that I could never leave my family behind where they were. When I was young, my mother was putting in long hours at her work, straining just to put food on the table for my sister and I…” Salve dropped his head, and he shook his mane towards the floor. Giving himself a little time to collect his thoughts, he looked up again to find Violet’s eyes not lined with anger at his seemingly arrogant and self-centered appraisal of his own life, but with an understanding of his life story. With a little nod Violet urged him to speak, holding his gaze in an effort to comfort him against the crew as he continued. “…my Dad passed not long after my mother became pregnant with my sister. His death was a difficult time for us, though in our family we always have a way of making it through the harder times.” He glanced at his cutie mark now freed from his scrubs or suit jackets, finding a little wooden boat staring back at him with a rope held taught by an invisible force below the surface of his coat. The rope cast ripples around the little craft, and as his leg tensed the boat gave a little bob. “We lived by the sea, and it was customary for us to launch our dead back into the ocean to be with the Goddesses on their final voyage. It’s an old tradition that my mother’s family kept in an effort to hold onto their customs,” he stated with renewed vigor, the sense of purpose which his cutie mark represented flooding back to him. “When I was a little colt, I was there when my mother pushed my father down our ramp and sent him off to be with The Goddesses, and if there is one thing I remember about that moment...it was her smile.” He looked to Golden Sun, seeking some recognition of his tradition, and hopefully its significance, in the old priest’s eyes. He found himself smiling when the face looking back was nodding in understanding. “She wasn’t sad to see him go. She knew that where he was going he wouldn’t need to struggle to live with his pain, and that eventually, when she herself died, she would see him again. We pushed him back out to sea and I knew then, like my mother had always taught us, that everyone has a time and place to die and that that time shouldn’t be one of pain or sadness, but one of rest and preparation for the end. I knew then I wanted to be a doctor," he said with pride, smiling back at the little craft held steady by an invisible anchor beneath his flesh. “If I could keep my patients healthy and happy for as long as I could, I would keep that part of them which they need the most from breaking away before its time. My family defined me, and I couldn’t allow ponies, griffons, or anyone else to be lost without their families by their side.” He looked around the table with a renewed sense of purpose, but recoiled when his gaze lingered on Wildfire. The massive stallion’s hooves were tapping on the floor in annoyance, and it looked as though he couldn’t care less about Salve’s story. The doctor doubted he had even heard a word he had said, for it was not the contents of the story which would have annoyed him, but the mere presence of the doctor himself. “...And we care about this, why?!” the grey mercenary sneered, cocking his eyebrows in annoyance and crossing his hooves in front of him, the glint of the knife on his shoulder catching Salve’s eye. “I don’t see how your little biography is going to explain just what the hell happened down in the cargo bay, and why the hell our mechanic almost died!” “My sister is part of my family,” Salve retorted,  “and my actions are the reason she is on your piece-of-crap ship.” Wildfire snarled back menacingly as the doctor held his ground, and the mercenary grinned in anticipation of the fight to come. But it would be a fight which would never get the chance to begin as Bastion, grunting slightly as he adjusted to the pain of his leg, raised himself up on the table between the two. “Wildfire: sit down, now! Doctor, if I ever hear you bad-mouthing my ship again I will make good on my threat from before. Don’t even think of crossing me!” Bastion’s bark reverberated around the silent dining room, the stallion’s breaths labored as he kept himself upright and pointing his hoof at both ponies in turn. Salve lowered his head to the floor, a little “sorry” escaping his lips as the hope he had been given by the unicorn mare and her priest companion drained almost visibly on the floor. As Bastion took his seat again the doctor continued, hesitating slightly as he regained his courage. “When I left to go to medical school, I had no choice but to help support my sister and my Mom. I sent back a portion of my paychecks every week, along with little gifts and souvenirs I thought they might like. My Mom would send back pictures of her and Riptide, care packages...little things to keep me going. My sister was just starting to really grow, and boy did she eat a lot! I remember one time she…” Smiling as he sank deeper into his thoughts, he started slightly when Wildfire’s restrained little grunt and eye-roll illuminated the fact he was getting back off track. Salve coughed a little, reassembled his thoughts, and then began where he left off. “She was a smart little filly, and she got even smarter as she grew up. I may have graduated at the top of my class, but she...she could do so many things, understand so much more than I could. She would write me every day she could, and her penmanship and understanding of grammar and linguistics far surpassed my own knowledge, even though she was much younger than me. She excelled in mathematics and magical theory long before I did. She was better than me at controlling her magic when she was barely old enough to go to school...when she actually went to school... “She never had any challenges: her work and understanding of her course material far exceeded the grasp of her teachers, who all started to separate her from their other classes.They tried to run her through magical and mathematical exercises, but she soon became far more adept in their lessons than they were. They tried to placate her with extra work, but it would be completed before they even left the room.” Shuffling his hooves on the floor, Salve shrugged his shoulders and gave another fleeting glance to Violet, who sat alongside Golden Sun. She looked slightly impressed, but her eyes urged him to continue with his pace regardless of her appraisal. Smiling his assent, Salve raised his head and continued speaking towards the table and the assembled crew. “My mother had to keep changing her schools, but she was getting smarter and smarter all the time, so much so that my mother could never keep up with the transfers. So, in the end, she took some money she had saved up and bought a bunch of old textbooks, opting to just teach her herself. My sister took up calculus, physics, chemistry, poetry, even dance and calligraphy before she ever got her cutie mark, and still she kept growing…kept on learning... “One day, I learned about a program catering to the special skills and advanced minds and magic of young unicorns, and I told my Mom thinking that Riptide would want to go. When we got around to actually considering the cost, my mother wasn’t able to afford it...so I decided to pay for her schooling myself.” Salve couldn’t help but smile, and when he raised his head he found that Violet and Wind Dancer were smiling with him. He rested his eyes on the table, lost in thought, as he imagined his little sister as if she was there, jumping around, dancing out her glee as he imagined she might have been. “I’ve never seen my sister so excited: I got so many letters about her plans and dreams, the subjects she wanted to learn and things she wanted to try. I had a hard time keeping up with writing her back...the letters just kept on coming. When she finally went to The Academy it took a sizable chunk out of my paycheck, but for once...she actually had a challenge. She had friends, a life outside of her house and new experiences to share with us.” Casting his face downwards, no one could see his eyes fog over and lose themselves in the dust on the floor as he shielded himself from the memories to come. The image of his smiling and dancing little sister sputtered and died with his resolve, and he swallowed slightly to brace himself, keeping his tone as even as he could as he continued. “A few months after she began her schooling, the letters stopped coming in as frequently as they used to. Mother got worried, and winter was coming on our home-planet so she wasn’t able to leave the house without contracting an illness, no matter what antibiotics or remedies I prescribed. "When we would receive letters from Riptide, her penmanship would be inconsistent, her spelling incorrect, her grammar flawed. She was correcting my mistakes before she even went to school! These were mistakes she would never have made had she been in her right mind. My mother didn’t believe me when I told her something was wrong, but it didn’t take a psychiatrist to know she was suffering just as much as I was, that her body was falling apart with worry...just like mine. “One day the letters stopped, and we heard nothing from her for months. My mother caught pneumonia and was bedridden for weeks, and I almost lost my job struggling to take care of both her and my patients. She got worse and worse, and no matter what I did to keep her healthy the only thing she could think about was my sister. Then, one day, I got a letter in the mail from the Academy where she was, and I rushed home to show it to my mother...to let her open it first, let her read what her daughter had written...but she...she...” Slowly, quietly, his head fell from the table to hide his distress from the assembled crew, and his eyes focused on his hooves as he shirked their gaze and stared only at the floor and the little hybrid just below them. She might as well have been miles away. “...Riptide had misspelled her own name...” He gritted his teeth and his eyes sealed shut as he struggled and fought to remain strong, but his clenching stomach betrayed his rapid decline into despair. Violet watched him in worry, clutching her little handkerchief in her hooves as she sent what thoughts she could to the doctor, and as she did he raised his head up again and spoke to her and her alone, casting every other face aside as he focused on the one he knew would listen. His voice trembled slightly as he spoke, his timbre broken and hesitant, but a little smile from Violet gave him the boost he needed to carry on. “My mother panicked and hyperventilated, and she injured her lungs trying to calm herself down. I admitted her to the hospital and cared for her myself, but her pneumonia resurged and… caught her immune system off guard… and...” The pattering of his solitary tear could be heard around the room, now as silent as a crypt. Even Wildfire was held at attention, looking from the Doctor to Wind Dancer at his side and back again, his previous challenge dashed on the floor as Salve remained, motionless and silent. “She…” Salve gasped, his breath rattling with tears as he steadied his voice, his eyes locking with Violet’s. He gave himself a few breaths, struggling to restrain his beating heart just like he had been trained, to calm his trembling limbs like he had learned how to do...but there was little he could do now that everything had come flooding back. He thought he was prepared for anything...but he wasn’t prepared for this. “…I cast her off myself…” he choked out to Violet, his eyes pleading with hers hoping she might understand...that any of them might understand. Violet nodded, her face still smiling even as they shared a tear, Golden Sun behind her shaking his head with a solemn pain. “Riptide wasn’t there to see it, and I don’t think she knows that Mom is dead… I don’t think I can tell her without making her…worse...” The Captain took this moment to finally break the silence, raising himself up in his chair as he kept his voice calm, addressing the Doctor with a soft intent. “What do you mean, ‘worse’?” “The dragon scales weren’t a giveaway?” the doctor chuckled weakly before shaking his head to remove the cloud forming around his words. “She wasn’t always like that. She was once normal: a little too smart for her age maybe, a little introverted for the most part, but normal. Her letter though…” He paused again, looking around the table before casting his gaze to the floor. “The filly who wrote that letter could not have been my sister. She spoke of projects, experiments the Alliance was running on them, the ponies in charge who’d inspect them, test them. She rambled on and on about the conditions of their living quarters…they were treating them like savages, not ponies.” “Why?” Dextra piped up from the far end of the table, struggling to understand the complicated reasoning which might be hidden behind his words as to the Alliance’s actions, though she got the strange feeling it wouldn’t be something she wanted to hear. Salve paused, trying to find a way to best encapsulate what his sister had survived, alighting on the words he needed with a shudder. “They were harvesting them.” The ripple of shock which ran through the room was punctuated only by the stallion’s soft words as he continued, ignorant of their reactions, focusing instead on the few things he did know...the things of which he was undeniably certain. He drew what little comfort he could from his understanding before speaking. “They had been training them to be the most powerful magical forces in the system, engaging them in rigorous coursework and schooling to weed out the ones who would be unable to perform to their specifications while finding those who truly excelled. My sister was exceptional, but then again, so were the others who they tried it on. All of the others died; their brains couldn’t take the change. But she…” He imagined the mare sleeping peacefully near Chamomile in the medical bay, her mind ablaze as it always was as her body remained immobile and unconscious. She would have been twitching as she slept...she always twitched. Her mind would always be a few steps ahead of her body, but that was what made her truly remarkable. That was what made her his beloved sister. He gave a little smile to the floor, just in the hopes that she might feel him nearby as she wrestled with the demons in her beautiful mind. “...She could take it.” “Take what?” The doctor pulled himself from his reverie, looked at the pegasus pilot who had finally spoken, and relayed everything he knew about her transformation: “I don’t know much, but I do know that they were doing something to their brains, their bodies, attempting to change something inside them to their benefit. I can only assume, given that they only accepted unicorns, that it had to do with manipulating what magic they could perform. The other subjects...they never knew what they were getting into. Had their parents known...had anyone known...I have no doubt it would have been stopped immediately.” “Hold on,” Wildfire exclaimed as he held his head in his hooves. “How exactly do you know anything about what they did? You weren’t there! Why do you just assume they were trying to screw around in their heads?” “I personally saw to those dying children,” Salve countered, though his tone abandoned his previous annoyance and adopted the warmth of sincere understanding. “I worked in the Central Alliance hospitals, remember? The Trauma Surgery Wing is not necessarily where one finds little colts and fillies with massive brain damage.” His explanation apparently sufficient for the mercenary, Wildfire looked back to the table and his cup before him as he mentally plodded along just a few steps behind the rest of the crew. Salve afforded him a little time to catch up, and then continued. “I thought it was odd they were bringing in children every week, almost like clockwork. They were always brought in under other circumstances: a concussion playing hoofball, a cranial fracture as a result of falling off a ladder, walking into walls, falling down stairs...they tried to hide it from me, but at least for a little while…” He smiled to himself, thinking of Riptide and her childhood snarkiness as she corrected his homework when he wasn’t looking. She would always do that...and he had learned to be observant because of her. “For a while, I was proud to be related to my sister. I knew the signs and saw what was really happening: these children’s brains, they had literally ruptured in their heads from the pressure and electroshock therapy they had endured. From what I have been able to gather, my sister was their last test subject.” “What did they do to her?” Violet whispered in fear, her hooves clutching the priest's arm as she stared in horror at Salve, both wanting to hide herself from his next words and at the same time struggling to gather everything he said. He looked back towards her and the priest. “They learned that their test subjects’ skulls had been unable to fully adapt to the magical surge of energy mainly because they were brittle pony bones. They needed something which would both repel foreign magical energy and keep the power contained within the brain, and there is only one substance that we know of which has that ability, one creature which can naturally repel magical energy…” “Dragons...” Golden Sun whispered under his breath, though loud enough that everyone at the table, including the doctor, rounded in surprise at his proclamation. The priest’s eyes never left Salve’s as the doctor nodded in confirmation. Golden Sun shuddered at the concept of such arcane magics being used on the innocent, and the doctor’s next words did nothing to assuage his moral distress. “They needed a dragon’s body to seal with my sister's. They were forced to surgically recreate her spinal and cranial structure to be able to handle the magical energy they wanted her to use, but with the dragon’s own bones in the place of hers. If they could find something to contain what magic they instilled in her in a framework which could handle that kind of power, they wouldn’t suffer those losses again. From what I can tell, they succeeded.” “Wait a second,” Bastion stammered as he directed his hoof towards Salve. “You’re telling me that The Alliance went around the system looking for some miniature dragon bones that somehow could be changed to create her body? How does that work? Dragons and ponies are so different...” “Yes, Captain, they are,” Salve continued, “but evidently that didn’t stop them. Science is a terribly effective tool for changing the physical world, altering the very nature of things...including something as strong as dragon bones. They must have had some problems making the bone structures match enough for a clean transfer, but they succeeded in transplanting the bones, and other DNA, into my sister." His head looked around the table and his eyes darted around to face each crew member in turn before speaking to Bastion directly.  "...But that was not the end of the experiment. They had the DNA present and the new skeleton, but they could not extract her brain without severing it from the body entirely, which would have killed her if they didn’t have another body they could use to keep the cells alive. They needed to build a body from scratch, a body which would be totally unable to reject the brain or any other organ they need... and they had only one possible donor who could have worked." "Who?" came Dextra's inquisitive voice from nearby, her words tainted in confusion. Salve merely looked at her before giving a declaration so devoid of emotion that she couldn't help but shiver: "...Only Riptide would do...so they cloned her." If his story had not brought home the full weight of the trials suffered by the mare mere meters below their hooves, his calm statement was more than successful at driving his point home. Salve watched as the crew recoiled in shock, though Wildfire, skeptical as always, challenged the doctor as he struggled to wrap his rather uncultured brain around the concept and its implications. “So you’re saying that little dragon-filly in the med bay ain’t even your sister? That she’s some blood bag organ factory or some other science-fiction mumbo-jumbo?” “You do realize you’re hurtling through space right now being driven by a spacecraft whose sole method of propulsion is pure magical energy, right?” came Violet’s snide remark as she lifted her cup from the table to finish off the remaining dregs of tea. Pouring herself another cup, she watched the tea for signs of spillage as she railed on him even further. “I think a little genetic cloning isn’t too much of a stretch, even for you.” Wildfire tried to snarl an undeniable crass and offensive remark at the mare’s expense, but Salve interrupted him to set his raging mind at ease, if only temporarily. “Yes, she is a clone," Salve remarked, nodding at Wildfire as he did. "But the thing about clones is that they are exact copies. Even though her body may be new, it's still the same body it once was. Her mind is still the same and her brain is still hers. She is still my sister, and I will love her regardless.” His statement earned him a little smile from Violet and a big scowl from Wildfire, though he personally didn’t care about the latter’s condition in the slightest as he addressed the mare before him. Salve straightened himself up again before getting back on track. “They used her new body as their vessel, recreating her muscles, organs, and tissue around the dragon bones. They were able to transplant her brain into her new body with minimal cell damage or necrosis...but what they did after that, I haven’t been able to tell. I haven’t been able to find an X-ray machine, a neural imager, an MRI, anything which will allow me to find out. Having to run from the Alliance has put me in a position where finding anything adequate to do that will be next to impossible.” “So where does this leave us, Doctor?” Bastion stated plainly, glowering as he raised himself from his chair to stare down the green stallion at the head of the table. “Would I be correct in saying that you’ve succeeded in stealing Alliance property, property they are willing to kill for, to cover up some conspiracy which only you are aware of?...and now, you expect us...you expect me... to help you?! You’ve put me in a position I don’t really want to be in! Why in the hell should I help you?!” Salve stood firm, holding his gaze on the Captain as the rest of the crew watched the pair in silence. Bastion did nothing save glare at the doctor: this singular pony who had placed the whole weight of the system and the Alliance’s wrath back on his aching shoulders to be borne towards some cause he had no say in. No matter the reasons for his actions, Bastion could never look upon this selfish doctor in a good light even if he tried, and even if his intentions had been pure. Salve raised his head a little as he tried to summarize his history, only to find himself thinking instead on a single memory of his sister. She had been playing with him, jumping onto his back, biting his ear as they wrestled on the grass behind their home, on that little patch of land before the lawn dropped off to meet the sea below. It had been right before she had left, and it was the last time he could remember his sister as she always had been: happy, innocent, and safe. It was the last time he had remembered himself being as happy as she, and it gave him the perspective to address the Captain again with his head held high. “They succeeded in creating a pony capable of doing anything and everything they wanted her to. They played with my sister’s brain out of such naiveté, and I don’t know what they did or why. I don’t know what they turned her into, but regardless of whether or not Riptide and I remain on this ship, the Alliance will know you’ve helped me and for that they will hunt you.” “You’re not making this better!” Bastion growled, his gaze on the Doctor hiding his eyes from the wince of surprise from Violet, who listened as her Captain broke those fragile bonds of civility to address the doctor as his voice shook with rage. “You need to tell me everything!” “I’m sorry,” Salve began, holding his head bowed before the Captain. “...But that’s everything I know.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The light bulb wasn’t screwed in correctly. She had counted the number of threads showing on the device and the possible number of grooves which would be required to keep it from falling out, and had reasoned based on the lengths of both that it had been improperly installed. That was the most probable explanation for the flickering she had been staring at for an hour. These hooves are made for screwing, that’s just what they’ll do… Those voices, their insidious nothings, their little whispers... It had been so long since they’d spoken, she’d almost forgotten they were there, plaguing her, their little talons gouging holes in her brain. It was if they had always been there: they were present when she’d first opened her eyes to find a brown stallion staring back at her, they were dancing in the corner when her brother kissed her on the head and told her everything was going to be okay. They screamed in fury as she closed her eyes tight, wincing from both the vivid and violent images they created and the pain in her leg as he doped her into a peaceful state before leaving her behind...leaving her to be haunted and forgotten. She closed her eyes tighter and the throbbing died away only a little. They would be back. They always came back. The ignition of some infernal beast from the bowels of the ship released a vapor from the ceiling. It slid out, cascading a thin mist from the overhead grates, slowly drifting in long curls and folds down atop her body. She held her breath in panic as the wave washed over her nose, but after a few moments she couldn’t resist giving a sniff. Hints of iron oxide and potassium-nitrate plus sweet sweet particles of dihydrogen monoxide equals rusty internal ventilation system on a mid-size freighter. Nothing to fear, Riptide, she thought to herself, allowing herself a few breaths. Just air and water...nothing to fear...nothing to fear... All rest and no play makes Riptide a dull pony. Riptide slid to her side, struggling to avoid the glaring light above her and the cacophony of various voices whispering their malevolent nothings into her mind. With a little twist she shifted her position, coming to rest with her head hanging over the makeshift bed she’d woken up in. Glancing around the room in which she found herself, she couldn’t help but count the number of tiles on the floor. Two hundred and forty-one. Not an even number. Somepony screwed up.  Blinking the drug-induced sleep from her eyes, she cast her bleary gaze towards the yellow mare lying a few feet away from her on the surgical table, her arms bandaged along with her chest as she lay naked, like her, alone in a warm room with nothing but the beeps of a familiar computer to keep her company. Riptide traced the line of the mare’s spine with her eyes as she examined the body before her: she was not too much older than herself, or at least not much older than she thought herself to be. Riptide couldn’t help but admire her: she was exceptionally pretty, and her white hair was almost blinding in the overhanging lights of the medical bay. It fell in long waves and glinted, just like the metal walls around them, draping over the edges of the table, fluttering in the mist... Snap her spine. She closed her eyes quickly. She’d done this before, and the whispering in her ears was never something she would obey. Now was not the time for panic. Now was the time for calm. Snap her spine. “…No...” she muttered, clutching her head. Rend her flesh. “No!” Rip her apart. “NOOOO!” The blood-wrenching scream erupting from Riptide’s mouth was just as vigorous as the shriek which came from the yellow mechanic as they both tumbled out of their beds, the needles in the mechanic’s arm somehow holding their place. Chamomile reeled in pain as she examined her arm: her fall had caused the skin to bend and rip a little, and her bandages were unable to completely soak up the little trickle of blood which began to run down her arm. That will definitely leave a mark, she thought to herself. Riptide, on the far side of the room against the wall, cradled herself in her hooves, her dragon plate sliding on skin in places as she struggled to hold herself. The amniotic slime still coated the scales, and she found herself unable to keep her grip no matter how much she needed to, no matter how furiously she tried to brush it off only to reapply it with the next swipe of her hooves. You ripped open her vein, you silly little girl, the voice hissed. Riptide could almost hear the edges of its forked tongue vibrating in her mind as it sidled up close to her ears, its voice bold and unafraid. “Shut up…” she whispered to the knees now firmly pressed to her chest, rocking herself as if trying to shake the little imaginary demon who dug his claws in her head, grinning sadistically. That’s not how you make friends, Riptide... “Please…don’t do this…” she whispered, shaking her head as she rocked herself. She’ll never love you...you’re worthless to her... “Please…” Why don’t you just die already? “…I don’t want to play anymore…” Riptide murmured into her knees, her mouth wide in a grin of pure wretchedness as her face contorted her thin little lips. Her eyes closed shut and tears, squeezing out where they could, drenched her cheeks as she watched as the horrors cast their shadows in her vision. She tried to throw off the voice in her head, but the harder she rocked, the tighter its grip became. “It’s okay, honey…” a soft voice whispered back, so unlike the voices of her monsters that her ears swiveled to gather every last note of that melodious and warm sound.  “Everything is going to be just fine… you’ll see…” With a slight pressure and a sudden warmth, Riptide opened her eyes to find herself locked firmly in the chest of the yellow mare on the floor, Chamomile’s coat brushing against Riptide’s nose. She could smell her perfume, she could feel the heat radiating from her body, and as the hybrid felt the fur on the mechanic’s breast she wrapped all four of her hooves around the mare’s belly as Chamomile cradled her into a long-overdue state of calm. Riptide stifled her tears as the mare slowly bleeding on the floor whispered into her ear, casting away the demons with nothing but her reassurances and promises. “Sssshhh...just relax, honey…everything is going to be okay. I won’t let anything happen to you, darling. I won’t let anything happen to you…” Chamomile reaffirmed herself to her namesake as she lulled the hybrid in her hooves into a tranquil state, Riptide’s sobs and wrenching gasps slowly decreasing in intensity and frequency before snuffing out entirely. Her easy breaths brushed past the stray furs on the mechanic’s coat as she became more and more subdued, and Chamomile could feel the mare’s heartbeat against her own, once frantic and unregulated but now pumping in time with her's. It was only when she knew her charge was completely and totally at peace did Chamomile pull back her head and look down at the dragon-pony. Riptide’s head leaned up against Chamomile’s chest, and as the demon died away their eyes met for the very first time. “Hi there, darling…what’s your name?” Chamomile smiled sweetly, the pain in her chest masked by the swelling of her heart as the mare in her hooves smiled back. “Riptide…” the little hybrid whispered, her gaze still locked with the mechanic’s, her heart still beating in time, her breaths still long and slow and steady. Chamomile gave her a happy smile as she held Riptide closer, her eyes twinkling. “Hello, Riptide. You can call me Chamomile…” She’s not your mother, Riptide. “That doesn’t matter!” Riptide barked, her head twisting to the side as she yelled back towards her inner demon who, in Chamomile’s presence, was hiding away...somewhere...somewhere inside her head. She could feel those little claws moving away, and as she stared into oblivion she couldn’t help but cry in frustration. “Hey hey hey! Eyes on me!” Chamomile crooned to the young mare in her arms. “Eyes on me, dear. I’m all that matters right now, okay? Just concentrate on me…that’s it. Don’t worry about them, just think about me, okay?” Riptide relaxed, her eyes glaring at the opposing wall where her demon had crawled out before they closed, her face nuzzling deeper and deeper into the mechanic’s chest as she struggled to contain herself. “Breathe with me, Rippy. Feel my chest, okay? Can you breathe like me? Breathe in!...” Chamomile’s voice came lilting through the little mare’s hair as the mechanic’s chest rose, forcing Riptide’s head to rise with it. Without her acknowledgement Riptide began breathing too, sucking in gulps of air as her lungs filled with the sweet and fragrant gas. “…And breathe out…” They let out a great gust of wind as the two mares released their lungs’ cargo in unison, fluttering their hair as they did. Two more repetitions of their little exercise got Riptide calm enough to allow her muscles to relax, a movement which Chamomile picked up, causing her to smile at her success. She tightened her grasp on the little hybrid, struggling to maintain her grip as her hooves reacted to the slick, matted fur. They rested together in silence for a little while longer, hearts and breaths in unison, before the little navy unicorn’s voice somehow escaped the furry breast she found herself lost in. “…Only my brother calls me ‘Rippy’…” she stated matter-of-factly, her muzzle still buried in the mechanic’s chest, a little smile peeking out from the scowl her demon had resurrected. “Well then, looks like your brother and I have one thing in common: we both think it’s a great nickname, huh?” Chamomile smirked playfully, her words causing the little mare’s eyes to peek out from her chest and back towards her face. “My brother is a doctor though…and you’re just a mechanic…” Riptide muttered, slightly confused as she tried to make the connections between her brother and the yellow mare in front of her. Chamomile looked down at the little mare in confusion, not only for that fact that the little dragon-pony in her grasp had relatives, but also for her keen observation. “How did you know I was a mechanic?” Chamomile asked quietly, checking her body for any tell-tale grease stains which would have given away her station on the ship. Riptide swallowed before replying calmly. “Your skin has been soaked in iodine solution which is usually used as medical grade antiseptic, but your hair and chest smell like wildflowers and a hint of vanilla which suggests to me that you used a little perfume not too long ago, enough that it lasted through your cleaning.” She beamed up at Chamomile while giving a little wink, finishing her words with a little jab from her hoof into the mechanic’s side: “I hope whoever he is was impressed.” Chamomile’s blush and furtive glance towards the door was missed by Riptide, who continued her analysis of the yellow mare. “You missed a spot on your chest, which smells like a mixture of standard household bath soap and the chemical substance polydimethylsiloxane…so I’m guessing you tried to clean yourself by washing your coat to get rid of that substance, which I’m sure we both know…” The two smiled together as they finished the sentence in unison: “…is used for greasing engine parts.” Their shared smile was enough to get them both giggling, and for the first time in a long, long, while: Riptide began to laugh. Her belly shook with mirth as the two mares rocked with great fits of laughter, still holding each other as tears of merriment cascaded from their eyes. This was the first time she had laughed since she’d seen her mother. She hadn’t been this happy in a long while, and only her mother could make her this happy. She will never replace your mother you know…her demon whispered, the lingering needle of pain lancing in her head as the claw dug deeper. But even though her demon came back out to play, she didn’t mind. For the first time in a long while Riptide was happy, and it was all because of the mare still entangled in her hooves. Although she missed her mother deeply, and though she yearned for her chance to see her mother’s face again and hold her close, she didn’t mind the distance. The mare who held her ever-so-tenderly was enough of a conduit for all of her mother’s love that she didn’t need any more assurance to relax her head and nuzzle the mechanic’s chin before closing her eyes and allowing herself to be rocked to sleep. Just as her mother would do, so many years ago. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “So what happens now?” “Nothing happens, Doctor. You and your sister get off when we hit Nagadoches and you take your troubles elsewhere. We won’t have any part in what you’re up to.” “This is your battle now too, Captain! Do you honestly think they will let you live knowing what you know now? Do you think the Alliance sending a mad demon-pony to slaughter all of us was as bad as it was going to get?” “I wouldn’t have had to deal with that if you hadn’t turned yourself into a fugitive and almost gotten me and my crew killed.” Scoffing audibly through clenched teeth, Salve rounded on the furious Captain as he stood his ground. “Yeah,” Salve countered, “because that was the one thing I thought of when I got on your ship: How can I fuck up someone’s life today, and how can I make their death extra-super special?” “Honestly, your behavior makes it seem like that’s all you're capable of thinking,” Bastion shouted, his voice rising higher in volume as he drowned out the doctor. “I think a certain yellow pony down in MY med bay would agree. Why she decided to save you, I will never know. I do know, however, that if you ever pull another stunt like what happened a few hours ago I will put a bullet in you myself and spare the Alliance the effort!” His last jab shut the doctor up quick, and Bastion knew he wouldn’t get much out of Salve after that. He turned his attention to his crewmates now poring over the box in the middle of the table, its edges catching the little light available in the kitchen. The ship readjusted the lights, dimming them slightly to complement their nearby cluster of little planets. It was an automatic measure to ensure everyone was adjusted to their destination’s corresponding Circadian clock, and a few members of the crew looked to check the time. The others, however, looked directly at the silver ingot on the table. “I’m lost…” Wildfire pouted, his head resting on the table as he glared hatefully at the mysterious box not inches from his nose. “That’s a shocker.” Wildfire glared venomously at Wind Dancer who had just returned from the kitchen with another pot of tea for some and a bottle of the finest liquor they had to calm down the more robust among them still shaken by the day’s events. This translated to Wind Dancer, Wildfire, Bastion, and surprisingly Violet who, much to the Captain’s amazement, could slam back a shot with the best of them. Her drinking technique was impeccable, though she was unable to hide the pain completely as Wildfire and Bastion could. A little grin lined Bastion's face as he gestured with his head towards the box, catching Salve’s attention. “Why did you steal this from our kitchen?” Salve looked from the ground back to the Captain, who had just finished drinking with his crew. Expecting to find malice and hatred locked away in those venomously green eyes he'd become all too familiar with, Salve was startled when nothing but concern and curiosity poked through the Captain's visage. Encouraged to tell the truth, he spoke up. “I honestly don’t know, but when I broke her out of the hospital they had her locked in I saw a paper with pictures of things which looked just like that box. That first night we had dinner, I noticed it lying there…and so, I panicked. I’m sorry Captain, but I don’t know what that box is or what it does. All I know is that it is somehow connected to what happened to my sister.” “And do you know this for a fact?” The Captain pressured, trying to wrap his head around the idea that this little box was somehow holding the fate of the hybrid mare below them within itself. Salve’s little shake of his head was sufficient enough to tell Bastion everything he needed to know: They were lost. They needed some help. They didn’t know where to start, and now they had a ticking time bomb in the form of an unstable pony hybrid sleeping it off just beneath their hooves. For all the Captain knew, she could rip a hole in the side of the ship, murder every one of them without much effort, and could probably do it with her brain alone. The thought, and the shot of whiskey he took to calm his nerves, made him shudder. With a sigh and a glance at the remaining drops of whiskey in his glass, Bastion attempted to weigh his options, but the one thing he was able to react to was the fact that he, like his crew, was completely exhausted. Wildfire slumped in his chair, cradling a shot of the amber fluid as if he were holding a child he would never foal, like that little glass was the most precious thing in the world. It was a good thing he was so protective: 100-proof straight whiskey didn’t come cheap out in The Black. Wind Dancer and Dextra conversed in hushed tones, eying the box and each other in mixed measures of fear and confusion, engaging in the silent heated discussions couples like them often engaged in. Golden Sun cleaned, his mind distracted from the day's events as his brain gave him little jobs to do around the kitchen. The Captain didn’t really mind: a tidy room was the product of a tidy mind, after all. All that was left was Violet, who hovered a shot of whiskey to her side and closed her eyes as she struggled to ward off sleep’s embrace made warm by the alcohol in her belly. She grinned like every tired soul does when savoring a creature comfort as the glass graced her lips. She went to drink before turning to the Captain, who stared both at her and the glass held clutched lightly in her magic as if a single nudge would send it hurtling to the floor. Her eyes sparkled, and she remembered her manners as she poured him a glass with her magic, holding her own with a hoof as she offered the new glass to the Captain. Nodding his thanks as he took it, their glasses clinked as they pulled down a drink together, the warm and biting rush nearly held back silently by them both. Violet gave a little cough which pushed through her closed lips, while Bastion gave a little growl of pain and burning pleasure as his old friend went down smooth. His cocked eyebrow was the only signal she needed to keep the aqua vitae coming: a challenge she accepted gracefully, though not completely without a little glint of unladylike competition. Salve watched them all from the far end of the table, knowing that he had doomed them all. Nothing good would come out of their helping him and his sister, but the crew of this little boat tumbling through space, its helm and guiding star his one greatest enemy, was doing it nonetheless. The thought of having someplace to call home, if only for a little while, made him smile briefly before another truth dawned on him. Soon, the two of them would be alone again, fighting the Alliance by themselves. She would be taken again. He would die, a physical end to match the gaping hole his mother left behind. The crew would be killed by her hoof or the Alliance’s, and there was nothing the doctor could do to stave off the inevitable. Casting his glance back to the ever-friendly floor, he turned silently and made his way to the medical bay to check on his charges. No one watched him leave, and after a few minutes it was as if he had never existed. The Captain and Violet were the only two who remained, their faces flickering by candlelight, the rest of the crew having made their ways to bed some minutes prior. Wind Dancer and Dextra had turned out the lights when they left as per the duo’s request: the fluorescent lights were doing nothing but distracting them from their drinks and the ensuing haze the spirit had created. Soon, they found the dancing mote of energy held tethered to the world by a solitary candle and that little flame's celestial brethren the only source of illumination. Candlelight had always been preferable to them both, though for different reasons. Violet looked into the flames and it reminded her of home: it reminded her of the softness of the evening and the fragility of her art, the inconsistency of a capricious heart and the power of a resolved one. Bastion savored every moment the flame flickered to life, sometimes dying out a little before pulling itself back from the brink to continue its purpose. They always burned on as long as things were calm, and wouldn’t go out if tended. He always imagined he was like that, that his ship was the fuel he needed to keep on going, and as long as things remained calm, as long as they were safe, he and his crew would always keep on moving...keep on burning... Candles had a nasty habit of being more revelatory than other ponies sometimes. “That’s quite a story Salve’s got,” Bastion said to his drink on the mahogany surface, the light of the candle dancing off the little waves which formed along the edges as their ship moved through the nothingness. “Something tells me there is a little more we don’t really know, though.” “He was quite earnest, Shadow. You should at least give him credit for that” was her pleading response, her purple shawl hugging the table as she turned her head slightly. “You’ve been a little hard on him…” “ A little hard? Are you kidding?” Bastion reeled, catching her eyes as he lightly banged the table with his hoof, both glasses thrown slightly into the air before coming back to the table. “He brought this whole heap of mess down on us, nearly got us all killed, and then played it off like nothing happened! He brought a weapon on my ship, put my crew at risk, and then expects me to help him? He’s trying to swing everyone over with some crazy story and expect me to go along with it, to pretend like that's okay!” Bastion paused a moment, cooling himself down though his voice, never raised above normal conversation volume, still crackled with his trademark rage. He cast his gaze back down to the table, sliding his waiting shot of whiskey a little closer. “I’m trying to understand all of this, Violet, I really am…” “I know you are, Shadow, but you are the Captain: you have to do something about all this, even if it's something the crew doesn’t like. You’ve done well in the past, and I know you can do it again.” “What should I do?” was all he could muster his pride to ask the mare at his side, whiskey and confusion making his rationale more and more irrational. He noticed her start slightly at his question, her face locked with his in astonishment before looking away quickly. After a moment, she drained her glass slowly and explained her reasoning, watching his eyes for signs of comprehension. “He’s a kind boy, Shadow. I know for a fact that he didn’t mean to bring this down on you specifically, even though I know you feel he did. He just doesn't understand how life works out here, and now he has to protect her by himself, without his parents, and most certainly without any resources. He's lost, just like you and I were. I think you have more to lose by kicking him off this ship than you do by letting him and his sister stay. When was the last time you’ve had a good medic on this ship, or even one at all?” She let her words linger a while, boring a hole in his mind with her logic. The correct answer was ‘never’, and they both knew it. Her words set his mind at a little more ease as he considered her defense, draining his shot with a little grunt before placing the glass back on the table. “You don’t even know him, but you speak as if you can read his mind.” “You’re right, I don’t know him,” she admitted, pouring herself and the Captain another little drink. “But I know you well enough to know that if you had wanted him off your ship, there would have been nothing stopping you.” “What, am I that heartless?” Looking over to the mare who lingered there beside him, even more stunning than usual in the candlelight, Bastion found his question answered. Her cocked eyebrow was enough of a response, and he reminded himself of just who he was really dealing with. Of course you would, you big oaf. That’s the first thing you would have done. “Hey, don’t take it so hard,” she cooed, pushing his drink in his direction as she took up her own in her glimmering magic. “Being a softy isn’t as overrated as you make it out to be.” With a nod and a clink of their glasses, they pulled the drinks down their throats, Violet getting more and more attuned to the bite of the whiskey as the bottle slowly drained. She wasn’t even giving off her little cough anymore. Bastion almost missed it: it was always a sign that she was imperfect, especially when she seemed otherwise...just like she did now. With a little shudder, Bastion grinned sideways at the mare as he refilled their glasses. “I’m not a softy...” Violet brought up her glass with her magic, looking through the liquid at the candle on the table as she pondered his words. She looked over the edge of her glass still hovering on her lips as the liquid’s aroma wafted silent and seditious into her nostrils. The edge of the glass playing with her tender bottom lip before she drained it with a single deft movement. Choking it back, she dropped her glass and gave a coy little wink to the stallion at her side, affording him one quiet but full little whisper. “Liar.” Rising to the challenge, Bastion drained his glass as well, and when he was finished they smiled warmly at one another. Her little grin was enough to set him at ease. Of anyone on deck, she would be the only one he would suffer to call him a liar. She was also the only one who would ever be allowed to call him by his first name. She had earned those rights, if nothing else. They refilled their glasses, her magic shaking the bottle slightly as her concentration, whether being impacted by the whiskey or the mere presence of Bastion at her side, broke a little. As she filled the glasses, Bastion broke the silence. “Have you made contact with any clients? Nagadoches isn’t exactly your kind of world, Violet, though I do know of a few wealthy plantation owners who might fit the bill.” He had never offered to find her work, and the thought of him interceding in her affairs made her reel slightly. Just the alcohol talking sweetie, she told herself. Just the alcohol… “I have actually. As soon as we hit the stratosphere, I’m gone.” “Does the crew know your plans?” “Dextra does, but only because she has that nasty habit of being a little more perceptive than we’d like.” They both chuckled as another round was poured. “That she does indeed” were the last words Bastion would say before knocking back another shot, the bottle now mostly empty. They sat in silence for a while, both staring at the little candle flickering on the table as it cast long, shifting shadows on the box in front of them. Violet looked at it with a sense of wonder, very unlike her companion by her side. The box’s edges were perfect, its facets flawless, the gleam from the candle looking almost as if it were casting an ever-churning rainbow sheen across the metal’s surface. As she rubbed a hoof over the top of the box, she could have sworn she saw the little diamond shaped puncture sparkle with a light of its own, casting a wave of cold shivers to run up her foreleg from the contact. Owing it to the cold of space, she looked back at her drink now filling up again as Shadow poured what was left of the bottle for the two of them. It would be a while until they could restock their supply of spirits, so she took his offering with no small smile on her face. He might have been mad for all those years, but he was at least cordial. In fact, he was almost kind... There was something about him which had changed, some portion of his ever-angry heart which had softened in her absence. He might have been strict and unforgiving still, but now...now he was polite, generous, loving, much less the ruffian she had known in the past. He watched over Chamomile as if she were his own, and regarded his crew as his family instead of as his employees as he had ever so long ago. It might have been the liquor which greased their wheels and made them nicer to one another, but even when they had spoken alone in the cargo bay after their first dinner, he was gentle, understanding...forgiving. Why had it taken him all these years to become this way? Why had he changed his behavior now? Had it been her absence? Had it been her arrival? He was a hard stallion to know...but she knew his heart, if nothing else. It was his compass, and he never deviated from it. He was one to hold grudges, remember the past, dwell in his failures day after day. He remembered and honored those who aided him, and sought to ruin his foes. But if she was his foe...why was he afraid of hurting her? She meant nothing to him. She was the mare who hurt him, so why wouldn't he abandon her? Why would he allow her to stay on his ship? Why would he share his spirits, his secrets, his weaknesses... Why would he ever show his weaknesses...to anyone? Unless he had forgiven her from the pain he held in his heart, unless he had forgotten the madness and anger which had once been his constant companions in her dismissal...there would be no peaceful sleep for Shadow Bastion with her around. He had forgiven her, he had let go...that was the only explanation she could think of. He was embracing everything he had spent his long years hating. He was embracing her...and he wasn't the same angry stallion he had always been. He was somepony else entirely. Her chair moved a few inches closer to his as she approached him for heat...his heat, their heat, the whiskey’s heat...any kind of warm contact. Though she was hesitant, and even though that sober portion of her mind screamed at her for her audacity, she knew she could find it here, now, on the ship... ...With him. Swirling the contents of her little glass she chose her words carefully, trying to play into the Captain’s sentiments as she made an argument she knew he would refuse outright: “Shadow, please: don’t leave them there. Please don’t abandon them. They've gone through too much as it is, and things are only going to get worse. She doesn't deserve that, and he doesn't deserve to have her taken away. They need you. They need us...” He eyed his glass with a mixture of longing and hatred, envying the people who did not require the sting of booze to cast off the few, strong walls between themselves and their thoughts. Whiskey, this whiskey especially, always made those walls come down just enough for his truthful intents to come over...though as the drink wore off the walls of his reservations got a little higher and higher to the point where it was easier to keep up the façade than tear the walls down. Right now though, with her help, Violet’s plea reflected his own...and when the time was right that ambition, that little thought, gathered the courage and leapt over the wall entirely. “I won’t, Violet...I promise.” They shared their last shot in the dark together silently save her little adorable cough, and as the light died down he watched with a smile as her hooves slid in between his own. The mare curled up beside him, her head on the table as she rested parallel to the mahogany counter, her eyes closed in an easy sleep. He relaxed when her sides pressed firmly to his own, and closed his eyes a little as their shared heat lulled them both further down the road to sleep. Shadow looked down at the slumbering mare, playing softly with her skin, her hooves wrapped up tightly in his own as he laid his head down beside hers, watching over her as she slept. Keeping her safe. Keeping them all safe. “Just like a good Captain should” he whispered to her, even though she would never hear his words, never understand his full meaning. She had been the victim of so much of his neglect, so much apathy and hatred, that he had forgotten himself and his duties. It was a promise he had broken ever so long ago...and she deserved an apology. She deserved the world. He smiled at the candle before snuffing it out with his hoof, enshrouding them in a warm darkness. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Dr. Salve Breakwater slid open the door to the medical bay as quietly as he could to find both of his patients absent from their last locations, their shared breathing the only sign of where they had gone. He turned to find them curled up together, sleeping in a corner with little smiles on their faces, both looking happy and healthy considering the severity of their ordeals. He grinned and closed the door behind him as he made his way to the machines on the far side of the room, examining the yellow mare’s vitals one last time before deeming her stable enough to no longer require any medication. Making his way as silently as possible towards the mares on the floor, he crawled forward and, with a light pressure on her bandage with his hoof, slid the needle from Chamomile's arm with his magic. A little grunt of discomfort arose from the mechanic as she opened her eyes drowsily to figure out what had happened. “I'm sorry Chamomile, I just needed to make sure that-” Chamomile's little hoof pressed against his mouth and her glittering eyes looked downward at the mare in her lap. They were the only signs Salve needed to keep his voice down. He gave a little nod, and as her hoof dropped they both turned to watch the hybrid on the floor, her eyes rolling behind her eyelids as she tackled her dreams and the horrors which occasionally resurfaced. It had been a while since he’d seen her sleep without the medication, and he watched Riptide as her chest slowly inflated without the help of the drugs. As far as medicine was concerned he had succeeded in serving them both, and he gave himself a little grin as he rested alongside them on the medical bay tiles. He smiled the easy smile of a pony that had done his duty, a smile of acknowledgement that his sister was safe. It was one which required no planning or even awareness: he had saved their lives, and that was something on which is life relied.  But so far outside the norm was the fact that this little almost-mare, this little prodigy curled in the hooves of an unfamiliar mechanic, was less tempestuous than he had ever known her to be, so lacking in the nervous energy which had been her constant companion ever since her birth. Right now she was completely serene, so lost in sleep and warmth that she barely twitched...something which she had rarely done. Riptide, for the first time in a long, long while was actually dreaming. This only made him smile more as he watched her sleep, allowing himself another little thought to set his mind at ease: My sister is safe “I’ve never seen a pony this calm before...” Their silence broken with his whisper, Chamomile stroked the little dragon-pony’s mane with her free hoof, brushing it away from her eyes as a few strands trembled slowly with her easy breathing. “Hey,” she grinned back at the stallion lying with them on the floor. “They didn’t name me ‘Chamomile’ for nothing.” Their shared grin was enough to warm the two of them up to one another, and it had seemed like years since they had last spoken. They slipped back into conversation just like he had drawn the needle from her arm: a little blunt and painful at first, but Chamomile applied the pressure until they both were comfortable, as was her forte. “‘Chamomile’…how does someone with a name like Chamomile become a mechanic? A ship’s mechanic especially?” he questioned silently, taking great care not to reawaken his sister lying in the yellow mare’s lap. “Simple!” she piped up, her voice kept low even though her excitement poked through a little bit. “I have three younger brothers, and my Dad was always busy running the repair shop so I spent most of my time in the garage helping him work and taking care of my brothers at the same time. His employees always called me ‘Camshaft’ whenever I tried to work on the engines they serviced, but they only meant it as a joke. It was only when I started fixing the problems they couldn’t that they took me seriously…” “Man…” she digressed, a warm nostalgic smile causing her eyes to squint as she giggled, “…you should have seen my Daddy’s face when they told him about it. They never let that down too…” She got back on track when she noticed the stallion’s attention starting to waver as he checked her eyes for signs of deliria. A shake of her mane and a little sigh brought them both around again. “Ever since Mom left, he had to take the whole ‘family’ thing on himself along with the business, so I got really good at calming my brothers down when he wasn’t around to play with them. I also got really good with engines, enough that I could fix this old girl up when the Captain and Dex came around looking to get her off the blocks and back in The Black. I signed on with the crew,  and now, here I am. The rest, as they say…” “…is history” they whispered together, smiles appearing on their faces as they finished each other’s words. When she knew he was loose enough to speak on the subject, she responded in kind. “Alright, hotshot: your turn! How does someone with a hoity-toity name like Dr. Breakwater find himself all the way out here with us vagabonds?” She poked him playfully as she shifted slightly to nudge the sleeping mare in her hooves into a more comfortable position. The little hybrid stirred to adjust and then lay still as Salve offered his own etymology to complement Chamomile’s. “First of all, my name isn’t 'hoity-toity': it’s just the family name! I mean, we might have had a little wealth, but it’s not like we had a mansion and servants and everything.” He turned back to the mare, expecting to find her glazing over the tedium of upper-class life, but as he lingered he found them much aligned in the reverse: her eyes glinted in interest as he continued with his life’s story. “We grew up by the sea...my Mom, Dad, my sister, and I. It was just a little sea on one of the central Alliance planets, but it was removed from the Capitol and other major towns. We had a little dock we used for fishing...and other things…” She did not notice him trailing off as she was playing with Riptide’s hair again. He stared at his sister, lost in thought, before he cleared his throat and continued. “My Mom and Dad spent a lot of time tending the fisheries near where I grew up. We never ate the fish, but Mom’s employers had a contract with the griffons, so we lived and breathed the ocean just like her mothers had. My Dad was a foreman in the fishery’s processing plant, and he...well, he worked with machines too.” He offered his statement to the mare, hoping to be able to skip the painful parts of his story, counting on her understanding of industrial plants to know what he truly meant by ‘worked with machines’. She nodded sadly, permitting him to continue around the salacious details. “He got injured one day and the wound got infected, but I didn’t understand medicine at the time. Mom did everything she could, but he didn’t make it. We pushed him back out to sea, my Mom and I, and as he left I watched his little boat roll around on the waves. It was then I understood why my Mom had named me ‘Salve’.” “Why?” Chamomile whispered, lost in thought as her mind raced with the imagery his words had created. He cleared his throat and looked deep into the mare’s eyes, so much like his mother’s that it scared him a little...but at the same time he felt relieved, calmed. It was almost as if he got the chance to speak to his mother again. “We watched him go, and I realized that I never really got the chance to say goodbye. If I could have made him hold on until he was ready, everyone would have been better off. So I pursued medicine as a way to combat ponies dying before their time, to give them a little time to ‘beat on against the current’, as my Mom would say.” “…and you use salves to keep people healthy, to keep them from dying. That makes sense.” She pondered her words a little, tapping her chin with a hoof as she cataloged his history for future use, locking them away in her memory with a little smile. It was a smile he didn’t share. “Exactly…” was all he could say to keep his emotions from boiling over, sighing as a wave of relief rushed over him. Knowing his story was finally over, he stroked Riptide’s mane and smiled when she turned into his hoof, feeling him there in her dreams. Hopefully he would never need to retell his history, as it killed him a little more every time. “And ‘Breakwater’? That’s a little weird too…” Chamomiles puzzled, one half of his name solved as she struggled to work her way around the second part. Noticing her befuddlement, he gave his rationale. “Breakwater was my father’s family name. He came from a wealthy family, but when he met my Mom he decided that love was worth more to him than a title or an affluent last name. He took what money he earned himself and moved away with her. I never really understood nautical terminology in my youth, and I still don’t know now...not like I’d need to…” He finished his sentence with a whisper. Chamomile knew better than to press him before his time, so she allowed him a few minutes to stay lost in thought before she questioned him again, trying to piece everything together. “…and your Mother? What happened to her?" She paused: something had shifted in his face. Micro-expressions were a language she could read, and the squinting of his eyes and tightening of his lip could only mean one thing. The two had one more thing in common, another entry in the growing list of similarities which would define them, shape them, make them reevaluate the world: They were both orphans. She knew that look, for it was the same she saw in her own eyes when she looked in the mirror every morning. She dropped her head, knowing just what he would say even before his little sigh shattered the tense stillness. “I’m sorry, Salve…” was all Chamomile could muster, and from her tone he knew she understood. Salve’s hoof rubbed her shoulder as he looked blankly at the mare in Chamomile’s lap, lost in thought, not even noticing when Chamomile took his hoof in her own. “My Mom was enough of a parent for the both of them, and she raised us well. When my sister was born, she was just getting used to living on her own again. I was old enough to help out with the groceries and other things, but she pretty much raised us on her own. My mother knew, almost immediately after she was born, that my sister was special. She knew there was so much more going on below the surface than could be seen, and she knew, well before her daughter did, that she was destined to be swept away in whatever she pursued.” “So, what was her name? Your sister's, I mean…” Chamomile queried, curious as to the fate of the unknown prodigy he spoke so highly of. “It’s just you keep referring to her as if she’s not here with us. I mean…y’know…alive?” All she could see was Salve’s face, his eyes downcast as he watched the mare in Chamomile’s lap as she slept, his mind elsewhere, drawn out by some invisible current while his body remained. He smiled slowly and stroked the dragon-mare's head as he kept his breaths calm. Nodding his head to the little mare in the mechanic's lap, he whispered his reply. “Ask her yourself.” The full gravity of his words meant nothing to her at first, but as the little mare in her hooves jockeyed for a more comfortable position, a wave of understanding smashed into her full force. “…Riptide.” He nodded his assent as the yellow mechanic stared at the hybrid mare in her arms. Her eyes lingered on the mare’s scales, her whip-like barbed tail, her dragon’s eye just barely visible in the space between the mare’s eyelids as she slept. She felt her bones with a free hoof: jagged, rough, not at all as smooth as her own. The mare’s body was limber and thin, and those same bones jutted out from odd positions around her flanks and near her ribcage, as if her organs were held in place and shielded from damage by some invisible steel coffin. There was no way that was possible! She could only have been some type of unknown organism, some unique and special species! There was nothing save her coat and her horn which differentiated her from something inequine...something terrifying and foreign. But his hoof...it caressed her mane so delicately and her face lit up as she felt him nearby through the cloudy expanse of her troubled mind. That smile on her face could only have been one of love, there was no doubt about that. “I had no idea she was your sister,” Chamomile whispered in awe, watching Riptide as she moved into his touch. “How could you?” he chortled, rubbing his hoof through his sister’s hair. “It’s not like there is much of a resemblance anymore...and bragging about the accomplishments of a dragon-pony isn’t necessarily good table conversation.” She looked to the doctor, his face still lingering on the mare lying peacefully in her lap, the mare who struggled and twitched only slightly as she dreamed. As far as Chamomile could remember, they hadn’t stopped in a port or docking station since she’d gone under the knife. She looked back and forth at them both in confusion before asking the obvious question: “How did she get here?” Still lost in his sister’s hair, he responded with an air of almost resigned ease. “I broke her out of an Alliance hospital and brought her to Hoovesdown, thinking I could take her pretty much anywhere. As it turns out, I brought her right here.” “The Alliance did this to her?” He shook his head a little. “Only a few scientists did, but the Alliance backed them, so you can take it how you want. I personally blame all of them, but what’s one doctor against the government?” “I didn’t mean to offend, Salve, I really didn’t…” “I know,” he whispered, feeling the silky sheen of his sister’s mane as he struggled through the mire of his thoughts. “I’m still struggling to understand it myself.” The yellow mare yawned as the little hybrid shifted again, her head curled against Chamomile’s lower chest. Her legs were prostrated behind her as she wrestled with her little demon as she slept, her legs twitching on the floor as the legs within her mind raced from the shadows. It was a yawn which the doctor shared and, realizing he had accomplished his mission some minutes before, got to his feet as quietly as he could. “Please get some rest, Miss. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you up…” “Not a problem, Salve. We’ll be right here in the morning.” “Are you sure? The table has some padding left; you might be a little more…” His words never reached their destination. They merely bounced off the hides of the two mares wrapped in each other’s embrace as Chamomile Calm lowered her head next the little mare’s horn, drifting to sleep as the vaporous ventilation whirred to life again, wrapping them in a warm steam. Salve, knowing he could do nothing more, gave them a warm smile, giving his thanks for the mechanic who would protect his dear sister through the night, guarding her through the undeniably terrifying world in which Riptide was now forced to survive alone. He closed the door behind him with a little click, watching through the window nearby as Chamomile gave the little mare against her breast a little kiss on the head before closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “I don’t care how busy he is, I need to see him...Now.” She concluded her statement with a stomp of her hoof, her khaki field uniform matching adequately with the dust beneath her hooves as her red silk scarf flapped in the roiling wind. A sandstorm brewed on the horizon, no doubt aided in its advance by the large shuttle hovering only miles away, its engines blasting the surface outside of Hoovesdown with a vigorous blue light. “His Grace is not taking unscheduled visitors. You will have to come back another time, Ma’am” came a gruff reply from the guard by the door, the beak clicking as it closed. “HIS GRACE!? What a crock of shit!” Her irritated scoff was doing nothing save marring her sterling officer’s reputation, and the soldiers which had her back grinned at each other in appreciation of her hidden side. Admiral Winter Tempest was just like them: just as mad at being refused, just as tired of being on this backwater side of the planet as they were. Readjusting their holds on their rifles--magical, clawed, or otherwise--the contingent at her back of every race under the Alliance’s umbrella proved quite the formidable squadron. The market cleared of shoppers and merchants alike as Tempest railed at the guard by the little door, the target of all of her fury, while her soldiers stood at the ready. “Miss, I will have to ask you again to leave, before-” “Miss?...MISS?!” she screamed in fury, scarf rattling in the wind, the chest of her uniform straining to hold back the mare’s rapidly inflating lungs as she gathered her reserves and screamed into the guard’s face. “Do you have any idea who the hell you're talking to?! Do I look like someone you refuse?! Do I?! Do these weapons behind me look fake to you? Keep this shit up, buddy: my crew needs the target practice!” Panting heavily, Tempest took a few steps back from the guard by the door who, shocked by her sudden outburst, stood upon his hind legs and drew a rifle from his back. With his talons caressing the trigger, he opened his wings for balance as he sighted the Admiral along the barrel. The little square erupted in clicks, whirrings, slams, and cocking as the entire squadron behind her loaded their weapons simultaneously, the front rank kneeling as practiced to allow their companions behind them a good shot. A solid wall of khaki soldiers two bodies deep surrounded the griffon guard and their Admiral in the space of two seconds. Their crescent shaped wall was the only thing the guard could make out besides the Admiral’s sneering face, and his face went white... ...though not from their sudden attention, but instead when her own weapon, held tightly in her magic’s grasp, tickled the guard’s two most prized possessions. “Now now, little birdie,” she crooned, her pistol nudging the griffon’s tenders as she advanced slowly, calling his bluff. “I came halfway across this arm of the system to find your employer. I am not leaving here until I have what I need from him, and not you nor any of your little feathered friends is going to get in between me and my contact... “...So please,” she whispered directly at the griffon, her pistol centered squarely on the griffon’s testicles as she allowed him a chance to run for his life. “Put the gun down.” Realizing he was royally screwed, the griffon released his grip on his beam rifle, Tempest’s gun still getting comfy betwixt his nethers even as he clicked the weapon off. It was only when the weapon was safely back in the holster on his back that Tempest did the same, sliding her weapon back from wherever she had conjured it from. She gave a poisonous smile before taking a few steps forward, grinning maliciously as she gave the griffon guard one final order. “Now, if you would be so kind: unlock the damn door.” Obeying her command as he would his employer, the griffon pressed his talons against a small screen by the door. The little plate scanned his claws briefly before it beeped, clicking in assent as it opened slowly inwards, its hinges creaking. A nod from Tempest was all he needed to start his escape, taking off and flying straight home as soon as he made it through the watchful khaki barricade. “Well that was odd…” whispered a single soldier in the lines. He looked at his compatriots in confusion at their Admiral’s behavior, but before he could do anything further the prickly side of his favorite officer did as she usually did: kicked the door squarely in the middle with her hind legs, blowing it clear down the hallway like a flying metal block. “…and now she’s back” he stated evenly, grinning to his fellow soldiers as they brought their guns to the ready. Tempest and her backup advanced through the square and the hallway she’d kicked the door into to meet with their contact, the rest of the soldiers standing guard outside. When she came to the door inside, she needed no invitation. The griffon bodyguards knew exactly who had entered their employer’s domain so unannounced and angry: The flying door had become her calling card of sorts. She strutted into the room to find her contact sitting behind a desk, smoking his usual cigar, light billows of smoke floating out from the two holes in the side of his beak as he watched, his eyes flickering between amusement and terror as he realized slowly what was to come.  Leaning her front hooves on the desk, she glared at her mark. “Good morning, Major.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~