//------------------------------// // Chapter 12 // Story: Even Stranger // by SaltyJustice //------------------------------// Aardvark Thorax had run with every ounce of strength his little body could put together, but the beast had gained nonetheless. It had looked so small and helpless from a distance. Who could have known they were ferociously territorial? Octavia had written down what she could, switching between observing the savage beating that was being dealt to Mr. Hist, and documenting it. They had been getting some excellent data, and they'd have gotten better but for all the screaming. "Are you sure he's all right?" Fluttershy had asked. "He said he's a professional. He's got the whole thing under control." Regret They had decided not to do the book in alphabetical order, especially not the animals section. Thorax had had just about enough of them, and would be fleeing in terror every pig-like ant-sucking freak he ever saw. From this point forward, animals were off his list. He'd let Twilight Sparkle handle them. Ice Cream An incredibly delicious treat, Octavia had suggested it after their encounter at that freak-loving degenerate pegasus, Fluttershy's, house. The particular kind he was enjoying was cinnamon flavoured, having learned his lesson from everything else he had been forced to eat. The cone was unpleasant, but Octavia had insisted it was the best part. She giggled as the melting ice cream burst from the cone as he chomped it and splattered on his face. Food Poisoning It seemed changeling anatomy did not take well to lactates, which is what the doctor had told him in a roundabout way. While utterly baffled by his symptoms, when he mentioned the cinnamon ice cream, the doctor had felt that was enough to make a diagnosis. Octavia had apologized profusely afterwards, then scribbled more notes down on the pages she now carried with her. Woodwinds Feeling that their documentation had taken a rather disastrous turn rather quickly, Octavia had suggested they research something closer to home. Though she did not play the flute or clarinet, she had experimented with them in school. All good musicians, she had said, at least understood the basics of a variety of instruments. She had tried to play a few notes on the clarinet. She had said they would be in G Minor, and she looked embarrassed as she let out some squeezing, painfully strained notes. Apologies came, followed by pleas to let her try again. Then, she had felt it, and the music had come. It was slow and poorly rehearsed, her hooves rapidly fumbling and flubbing notes, but something resembling a song had come forth. Thorax had found the song oddly enamoring, despite itself, and found himself wishing he could replicate it. Then it struck. His stomach shook violently and his ears began to scream into his mind a high-pitched whining sound. His vision had become clouded and he could only feel tears running down his face. Octavia had thrown the clarinet aside and, in an instant, the pain had gone as soon as it came. "I wasn't that bad, was I?" she joked. "Must have been the sickness, from earlier. That was good," he said. Orange Juice Tastes terrible. Stay away from it if you don't want your mouth to taste of ash. Good source of vitamin C. Obligations Sometimes a pony will want something from you, and you owe them a favour. It is considered good behavior to always repay these favours when asked. Advertising A good way to gain the approval of your tenancy officer, who may or may not require a billboard to be erected for her performance next Friday at 5. It's not like you have a job or anything. Spray Paint Pressing down on the top of the nozzle makes it come out. Aim away from face. Bathing No amount of hot water will get spray paint off your face. Soap Soap can remove spray paint. It will sting your eyes if it gets in them. Blindness Lack of vision in one or both eyes. May be permanent or temporary. Zebra Some Zebra cultures speak in rhymes, some don't. Further, some are rather knowledgeable about ailments and can provide cures for them. Relief Can only be experienced, not described. Typically follows a long period of suffering or worrying. "I think we've got enough for one day. We're making some great progress here," Octavia said, stuffing her papers into her saddlebag. There were notes aplenty, scrawled at all angles and across the margins. They could have continued gathering more, but she'd need something more to write on. "We are a superb team, but I require rest," Thorax said. "I'll tell Vinyl we'll finish the billboard later. I have to get going anyway." "Oh? Where?" Octavia twirled in place and cast a wry look at Thorax. "I heard this morning, my quartet has finally gotten a 'gig'. We're doing a wedding this evening! I need to go get ready, and maybe do some practicing. I have been neglecting my cello since you've arrived." A pang shot from Thorax's stomach. He wasn't sure as to the cause, perhaps something left over from the lactates. "When will I see you again?" he asked. "We'll be back very late tonight, so I'll see you tomorrow morning. I must run now, good day!" Octavia cast a look back over her shoulder and departed. Thorax sat down, the feeling had returned. As he watched her go, he felt like running after her, maybe to ask her if he could attend her 'gig'. He felt his courage leave him in that moment, and merely sat and watched her recede into the distance. He sighed. "Hey!" Thorax shot straight upwards into the air. When he landed, he was face-to-face with an Equestrian Mail Services pony, holding a letter in his mouth. "Wh-who - " Thorax gasped. "You're the new guy in town, right? This letter's for you, express-send and everything." The mail pony spat out the letter and charged off to some other unseen task. Thorax shook his head, and examined the white envelope that had been deposited before him. He turned it over and over. There was something written in code on the front, from somebody named Sasha. Or possibly to Sasha. Was he Sasha? Did he know a Sasha? Thorax held the letter in his mouth and returned to his lodgings. Octavia had already came and left, Vinyl was laying on the couch staring at the ceiling. She was making a low, deep roaring sound intermittently, but otherwise didn't respond to his presence. "Vinyl? Officer Scratch?" Thorax tried. He received no response. Thorax switched the letter to one of his forehooves and spoke louder. "Honored Officer? Sir?" Nothing. She was not wearing those audio-generating devices on her ears, so she could certainly hear him. "Do you know what this is?" he asked, holding the letter above her to make sure she could see it. Without warning, her mouth opened wide and sucked the letter in. She sat up, coughed, and sputtered. Seeing him sitting near her, she raised her hoof as if to strike, then lowered it. "Damn it mid-towner, from now on you just wake me up by shaking me, okay? We're not in Canterlot anymore." "I am sorry sir, it will not happen again," Thorax said, throwing himself into a bow. Vinyl patted him on the head, signalling him to stand back up. The letter, having been blown across the couch, was within reach. Vinyl picked it up and tore it open. "Hey, this isn't for me. Why'd you give me a letter that was for you?" "I didn't - " "Oooh, juicy!" Vinyl said, and began to read the letter out loud. H Meet me at the train station tonight at midnight. Come alone. Find a spot in the bushes next to the platform and await three knocks on the outhouse nearby. This is extremely important. -Sasha Vinyl lowered the letter and glared at Thorax. Thorax dumbly stared back. "Who is this from?" Vinyl snarled. "I don't know a - " "Don't you dare lie to me." "I don't know!" Thorax pleaded. Vinyl relented slightly. "Listen up, new blood. I don't know who this Sasha is, and I don't really care. But if you break Octavia's heart, I'll break your eyes. I'm not sure if I can do that, they'd probably pop like a squishy balloon, but you don't want me to find out. Do you understand me? Whoever this Sasha is, break it off." Thorax considered his options. Tenancy Officer Scratch had given him a direct order, but without knowing who Sasha was, could he carry it through? What if that was a code name for the Queen? Would the Queen visit him in Ponyville? If it was the Queen, he could simply ask her to override Scratch's complaints. If it was not, he could 'break it off'. Thorax felt proud of his deductive skills. "I will shatter it, sir!" Thorax said with a salute. "Good. I'm glad we had this little chat. Now go away, because I was in the middle of one of my midday naps." Thorax spent some time attempting to catalogue the strange sensation in his stomach. He had run through a long list of all the feelings he had ever experienced, and it was not one of them. Twilight Sparkle hadn't known what he was talking about when he mentioned it, though Spike had said he knew what it was. He had refused to explain any further though. The sun went down as Thorax tried to do what little additional research he could. He had written down ten more pages of notes, and Twilight had been very pleased when presented with them. Spike had asked Thorax to perform a spell check. Midnight approached and Thorax made his way back to the train station. Still far ahead of schedule, he ducked into the candy house to see if the Pink Pie was home, though she was not. The door was locked tight. He would need to get some more cinnamon buns later, perhaps they could help his stomach. Leaving the sugarcube junction, he saw a group of ponies wearing construction gear milling about. Construction. He pulled out some spare papers from his saddlebag and a pencil, and prepared to take notes. "Excuse me labourer, could you help me?" he asked. "Yeah, what's up? Hey, you're the new guy right?" "Indeed. I am wondering - " "If we can help you do research? Word gets around fast. This is for that Sparkle lady, right?" Some of the other workers whistled. Thorax made a note of that, 'Ponies whistle to congratulate intellect'. "It is. Could you tell me what you're doing here tonight?" The worker motioned to a large pane of glass laying up against the side of a house. "Me and my buddy Rex here take this plane of glass across the street once every five minutes. We've been doing it for about a month now, pay is really good." "You're doing it this late at night?" Thorax asked. "Yeah, we got the night shift. It's a twenty-four hour business, you know." "Mmm. And what are these colts doing?" Thorax asked, motioning at the other workers. They had a number of baskets of fruits. Orange, bananas, some strawberries. "Same thing, really. Every couple of minutes they carry those baskets across the street. Oh - here they go." The workers hoisted the baskets of fruit and marched to the other side of the street, then sat the baskets back down and waited. Some idle chatter passed between them. Thorax made notes of anything that struck him as interesting. "Thank you very much. One last question: what is that mare doing with that wooden ramp over there?" Two mares were about a block away, likewise dressed as construction workers. One was rather inattentively holding a stop-sign, the other was moving and adjusting a small wooden ramp lodged between two buildings. "Those girls got ramp duty tonight. We put that ramp over there and put some broken glass just on the other side of it. Health and Safety Commission is always riding us about it, but what are we going to do? Some jobs are dangerous, and they gotta be done." Thorax noted the rather cavalier attitude towards safety the ponies possessed, but did not make a note of the sheer insanity of the whole situation. Ponies lived their lives as magnets for weirdness, and infiltrating their society meant the unnatural must become the natural. "Thank you for your help," Thorax said. "Hey, no problem. You don't got a job, do ya? We could always use a strong back around here." "Perhaps I will inquire when I have finished this task. I am uncertain as to whether or not when moving fruit and glass across the street will pay off." "Oh it'll pay off," the construction worker replied. As if motivated by some unheard and unseen signal, he and his partner hefted the pane of glass and carried it across the street. Shaking his head, Thorax continued to the train station. The bushes that the letter had mentioned were waiting for his arrival, though there was a terrible stench coming from the small building next to them. Thorax held his nose as he waited. He considered shape-shifting into a plant to improve his disguise, but all his attempts in the hidden grove resulted in failure. At best, he managed to turn his coat into a forest green. Bored, he opened the door to the small building. There was only one thing inside: a small drop-shaft, the size of a changeling hatchling at best. The possibility that this was a creche briefly entered his mind, though the smell would probably have warped the minds of the hatchlings. And, how would the caretakers feed them? And, what about non-pegasus hatchlings? There was some sort of slime on the edges of the shaft, so climbing out was certainly not an option. Peering down the shaft, there was also no light, so pony young would be raised in the dark, too. Thorax left the small building very glad to have been raised in the hive's hatchery. Spiracle glanced around at the other ponies on the train car. So far, there were no candidates to be tailing her, not directly. The most any of the ponies had stayed on was two stops, though the possibility that they were trading off watching for changelings still existed. She had switched disguises at every stop and checked for tails extensively. She could not shake the feeling she was being watched, even if it was paranoia. "Ponyville in ten minutes!" came a shout from a railway employee. Spiracle took another look around the car, the reaction from the other passengers was muted. They all seemed far too tired to be part of a hunting party. Octavia looked out the window, waiting for the train to come to a stop. The performance had gone very well, and she had personally received a tip from the groom's mother. She wished Mr. Hist could have come, but he had not asked to. Perhaps he would attend the next performance, she mused, and finally get to hear her cello. Once the train had stopped, a railway employee appeared next to her seat before she could stand. "Excuse me, Miss Melody?" he asked. "Yes?" "There's been a slight mix up. Your instrument has been placed in the caboose, so if you could wait in the car for a few moments, I can go get it for you." "Why isn't it in the baggage compartment?" "It wouldn't fit. Very sorry for the delay." Octavia groaned and went back to looking out the window at the now stationary world. There was a minor bit of commotion near the outhouse just in front of her. That thing hadn't been cleaned in years, probably because cleaning it would mean going near it. She slouched into her seat, she was likely just hearing things. She could have sworn she heard Mr. Hist, but that was probably her imagination. She was acting like a school filly again, obsessing over somepony who had sent her heart a-flutter. Octavia's ears perked of their own accord. There was definitely somepony talking in the bush, strange as that sounded. She sat up to try to see who it was. The bush held still, though the sound of somepony talking was there, if soft. She strained to get a better view, lifting herself as high as she could on the seat. As she did, a pony who had gotten on the train just before it departed Canterlot walked towards the outhouse and knocked three times on it. She whispered something Octavia could not quite hear, and Hist's voice answered. "Spiracle? You're - " Spiracle slapped Thorax's mouth with all her might. "Damn it kid, I'd have figured you'd have smartened up at least slightly since I left. My name is Sasha, understand me?" "Mmpph," Thorax answered. His cheek and tongue protested as he did. "Listen, I don't have a lot of time, I'm pretty certain I'm being followed. Here's next week's Nectar, sorry there's no orders to go with it." Spiracle passed him a small glass jar filled with a thick buttery substance. It looked discolored from that of Nectar, though it could well have been the poor lighting that made it so. Thorax took it. "But, it's not Saturday yet," he said. "Things have changed. Listen, I've got some bad news for you. The bane is coming to Ponyville, she'll be here tomorrow morning, and there's no way in hell I'm coming back if she is." "Who?" "Princess Cadence!" Thorax blinked. "She's a pink pony, pretty unassuming. That's not the problem, the problem is she's coming here and none of my sources know why." "So?" Thorax asked. "Well gee kid, what changed about Ponyville a few days ago?" Thorax blinked again. "We put a spy here!" Spiracle desperately pleaded. "We did?" "YES, YOU!" Spiracle looked around quickly, sticking her head out of the bush. Nobody was within earshot, hopefully. "You mean she's coming after me?" Thorax asked. The feeling in his stomach abated and switched with the familiar nervous fear he felt whenever Spiracle was around. "That's my guess, anyway. Stay far away from her, lay low, and have an escape plan. That's all I can say. What's your progress on Sparkle?" "It is going well. I believe I will have all her secrets very soon." The bemused look on Spiracle's face said far more than words could. "Whatever. Chances are, it won't be me who does your drop next week. In fact, there might not be one at all. I - I'm sorry, kid. I don't know what's gonna happen now." "What do you mean? What's going on?" Thorax asked. "Some of my other contacts didn't show to their meetings, and there's a rumour going around the hive that Marmalade Falls' hive is gone, and I'm pretty sure I'm being followed. I'm worried we've got a mole, and - guess what - I'm the best candidate." "You're a mole?" "No! But I know all our agents in the field, and Tarsus is probably gonna throw me in irons if it'll cover his butt. So you know what? I'm done, I'm not putting my ass on the line so he can look like the big spy master for busting me. If you don't see me next week, you know why." "But what about my Nectar? And my orders?" Spiracle shrugged. "Sorry. Not much I can do." A faint clip-clopping of hooves on the train platform alerted Spiracle. She looked up, trying to see around the bushes. "Shh! Somebody's coming. Nobody ever goes to this outhouse! Ever!" Spiracle hissed. She managed to see through the leaves just well enough to make out a distinct pink bow-tie, bearing straight towards them. Spiracle immediately recognized it as belonging to one of the mares who got on at Canterlot. "Hist! Get out of here! I'll lead her away, try to stay calm." Spiracle shoved Thorax away, directly into a tangled bramble. In the darkness, Thorax was totally invisible, and also unable to move, having gotten himself stuck. Spiracle looked up again and darted between the outhouse and the station, into Ponyville. "See you around, kid," she let out softly behind her.