Lyra hated going without work. The kind of work that she and her crew frequently took on was usually plentiful, but that didn’t mean there weren’t dry spells. She rarely got truly desperate, but right now she was approaching that point. The ship could still fly, but that wouldn’t last much longer if they didn’t find work soon.
Luckily, she had recently made a friend with good connections. Filthy Rich had been very pleased with her professionalism, and had graciously offered her another job. It had been almost two months since the last one, but Lyra forced herself to remain calm and collected while they discussed it. She felt like squealing with joy and hugging the ship’s communications array.
She was alone on the bridge, having ordered Vinyl and Octavia to find something else to do while she talked business. Filthy Rich had outlined a fairly standard (if there was such a thing) plan involving a train robbery and an ancient artifact. There was just one problem, and it was a problem that Lyra took very seriously. “That’s a pretty high profile object you’re talking about,” she said. “If we steal it, we’ll be running for the rest of our lives and then some.”
“I highly doubt that,” Filthy Rich said. “It is only on its way to New Equestria because the owner needs a cover story to explain why it will go missing.” Lyra stared blankly at the view screen. “Allow me to explain,” he continued. “My friend recently purchased an ancient burial urn from the Times-That-Were. It’s valuable, but not unimaginably so. He needs it to go missing so that he can return it to where it belongs.”
“That’s a mighty fine idea, except that where it belongs is hundreds of light-years away.”
“Not exactly,” Filthy Rich said with a laugh. “He means to give it to the diamond dogs; it’s considered a sacred relic in their culture. He objects to the idea of something so important being locked away in a museum where only the rich and privileged will ever get to see it.”
Lyra frowned as she considered the implications of the job. Diamond dogs were treated poorly all across the ‘Verse, even on the far edges of the Rim. They had no unified culture to speak of, unless poorly organized crime counted as culture. The urn wouldn’t be anything special to ponies, but diamond dogs would find it immeasurably precious.
“I think I understand,” she said. “He can’t just give it away without looking like he’s getting friendly with diamond dogs. His reputation would take a hit from that, wouldn’t it? He’s probably some fancy pants aristocrat that likes playing humanitarian.”
Filthy Rich looked around nervously. “H-how did you… oh!” He sighed with relief. “Yes, he is a fancy pants aristocrat. That’s right. He has a pair of tickets ready, if you’re interested.”
Lyra nodded, satisfied with the deal. “We’ll do it,” she said. “This ain’t the first time we’ve hit a train. We know what to do.”
“There is one more thing,” Mr. Rich said. “My friend wants the artifact very much, but there will be civilians on the train. None of them are to be harmed. He has seen to it that the guard will be very light, but there is to be no bloodshed whatsoever. Can you do that?”
“We’ll handle it,” Lyra assured him.
“Very good.” Filthy Rich began typing on a keyboard that was just out of sight. “I’m sending you as much information as I can about the train and the guard detail. We’ve paid a mare to sneak the urn past customs and meet you in the freight car. Good luck, Captain.” He killed the connection, leaving her to examine the files in peace.
When she was finished, Lyra and her crew met in the galley to discuss the job. The plan was simple enough that it worried her; most of her simple plans ended in disaster, so she had learned to be cautious of schemes that were too good to be true.
Thunderlane didn’t understand, but that was to be expected. He never understood anything the first time around. “This isn’t complicated,” Lyra said patiently. “The urn’s owner wants to donate it to diamond dogs, but he doesn’t want his fancy friends to know about it. We’ll steal it for him, then secretly give it back. We just need to sneak into the right compartment, find the right box, and fly away with it.”
“You will need to look respectable,” Octavia added. “The client chose to use a civilian transport for cover. The only ponies on board will be the ones that were wealthy enough to afford a train ride.”
“Rim barons,” Thunderlane snarled. “I hate Rim barons. Can we blow up the train when we’re done?”
Bon Bon rolled her eyes. “Oh, sure,” she said sarcastically. “Let’s turn a harmless heist into a bloodbath. Lyra, I have business of my own to take care of. I fail to see why I need to be here.”
“It’s like Octavia said,” Lyra explained. “We need to look respectable, and nopony around here knows more about looking respectable than you. Before you get mad, I’m not asking you to go with me. A pair of beautiful mares would probably just draw a different kind of attention.”
Bon Bon cocked her head skeptically. “Who else would be going with us?”
Lyra did her best to smile. “I’ll pretend that went over my head.”
*****
Bon Bon had scheduled an appointment for the same day as the train robbery, but she found time to make sure that Lyra and her escort looked proper. The unicorn wasn’t used to dressing up, but grudgingly admitted that she looked very nice in one of Bon Bon’s dresses. The blue fabric was meant to match Bon Bon’s mane, but it complimented her coat very well. Her mane had even been styled, which seemed like a bit much, but she was willing to put up with almost anything for the right price.
Thunderlane was less cooperative. Bon Bon had complained about everything from the moment she started working with him, including his “brutish” physique and his inability to stand still while she took his measurements. Lyra had to use a series of increasingly creative threats to keep him in line, and almost resorted to physical abuse when her imagination failed her.
Bon Bon stopped them before they left the cargo hold for one final examination. She looked Lyra over carefully, making small adjustments to her outfit and dabbing on a hint of makeup. The unicorn almost recoiled in horror. “You look positively lovely,” the Companion remarked. “You should dress like this more often.”
“Was that a compliment?” Lyra asked mischievously. “That sounded suspiciously like flirting. Are you trying to flirt with me, Bon Bon?”
What was meant to be a joke suddenly became incredibly awkward. “Not that I thought you were,” Lyra said a little too quickly. Bon Bon stammered that she knew Lyra was only joking, but neither of them sounded very convinced.
The uncomfortable silence that followed was mercifully broken when Thunderlane walked in on them. Pretty Vision followed at a safe distance, watching curiously as he fought with his collar. Bon Bon took one look at him and almost fainted. “What did you do to your mane!?” the Companion shrieked.
Thunderlane adjusted the collar of his shirt, trying to find a little more breathing room. “Nothin’,” he said.
“Exactly!” Bon Bon exclaimed. “I told you to run a comb through it!”
“I did!”
“You’re lying!” Bon Bon pulled a brush out of Lyra’s saddlebag and cornered the pegasus against the staircase. “Hold still,” she ordered. “Your mane is a mess! It hasn’t seen a comb in weeks. Honestly, how can you expect to blend in when you look like you were raised by timber wolves?”
Thunderlane gritted his teeth as Bon Bon brushed the tangles out of his mohawk. “Lyra,” he growled menacingly, “she’s brushing my mane. There’s a mare brushing my mane.”
“Sure looks that way,” Lyra said. “Grin and bear it if you want to get paid. I’ve seen the payoff for this job, and trust me; you don’t want to miss out.”
Bon Bon soon finished with Thunderlane’s mane and stepped back to admire her work. The blue mohawk had been parted down the middle and now hung down to frame his charcoal-grey face. “Shut up,” he snarled at Lyra. “Don’t laugh.”
“I wasn’t,” Lyra lied. She started giggling and couldn’t stop, no matter how murderous Thunderlane looked. She would never have expected to see him wearing anything more than a rifle harness, but the suit and tie looked surprisingly good on him.
“He looks pretty,” Vision whispered. She squealed and hid behind Bon Bon as Thunderlane glared at her.
Just before they set out for their train, Lyra was pulled aside by Tick Tock. “What gives?” she asked. “We’ve got to get going, doc. Our train is about to leave.”
“I know,” Tick Tock said. “I need to ask you for a favor. I’ve done some research, and I need you to look for something on the train. It’s a small medical scanner, about the size of your pistol. It might help me diagnose Vision more accurately. It isn’t perfect, but it’s the best I can hope for right now.”
“How much can you do without it?” Lyra asked.
“Very little,” he said. “Please, Captain? This ship’s infirmary doesn’t have the equipment that I need. I want to help her, but I can’t just give her random doses of medication and hope for a miracle. The train should be carrying several crates of them for a hospital in Appleloosa. It would have the Blue Moon logo stamped on the crate, right in plain view. You wouldn’t even have to look very hard.”
Lyra clapped him on the shoulder, almost making the gesture seem macho despite wearing a dress. “I’ll keep an eye out for it,” she said. “No promises.”
*****
Lyra and Thunderlane waited patiently as a crowd of ponies slowly filed into the passenger section of the Dodge Junction Express. The conductor stood at the door, punching tickets and extending a warm welcome to everypony that passed by. He really looked like he enjoyed his job, which seemed refreshing only until Lyra realized that he was making conversation with every single passenger.
Lyra and Thunderlane, sadly, were not exempt. “Lovely to see you today, sir!” the conductor chirped as he punched Thunderlane’s ticket. “It’s always nice to see a new face. What brings you to the Georgia system?”
“Business,” Thunderlane answered with forced enthusiasm. “Family’s lookin’ to expand the business.”
“Good for you!” the conductor exclaimed. “I hope you and your lovely Companion enjoy the trip.”
Lyra’s eye began to twitch. She became painfully aware of the tiny derringer pistol ticked into her purse. Thunderlane shot her a stunned look that quickly transformed into a devilish grin. “Don’t know about how lovely she is,” he said. “She’s alright, I guess. She’s a little bony, and her flanks are sort of uneven, but you get what you paid for.”
Lyra was now remembering that her derringer held two bullets, one for the conductor and one for her ‘friend’. I’ll kill him, she thought as she tried to maintain her cheerful smile. Kill both of them, right here. Kill ‘em dead. Right in front of everypony.
Miraculously, they made it onto the train without any bloodshed. “Thirty minutes to the pickup time,” Thunderlane said cheerfully. “I don’t know about you, but I’m havin’ a ball.”
Lyra’s glare could have stopped the heart of a lesser stallion. “Keep your mind on the mission,” she ordered. “Also, that mane style makes you look like a mare.” Thunderlane followed his captain toward the cargo area, chuckling as she tried to pull the hemline of her dress lower. “My flanks aren’t lopsided,” she grumbled. “Why would you say something like that? That’s just stupid.”
Neither of them noticed the pair of earth ponies that soon boarded the train. “I did not see which way they went,” the blue pony said.
“They will either go for the cargo immediately or try to stop the train,” her sister remarked thoughtfully. “Which is more likely?” They both trotted toward the train’s engine without another word.
*****
Lyra and Thunderlane quietly pushed through several crowded cars until they reached the dining car. Beyond it were two freight cars, one for luggage and the other for various shipments bound for Appleloosa. “Wait here and keep your eyes open,” Lyra ordered. “If you see anypony follow me, give me the signal.”
Thunderlane nodded and sat down at a table facing the door. He made sure that nopony in the car noticed Lyra slipping away and settled in for a short wait. He thought about ordering something to eat, but decided against it. He wasn’t sure how long he would have to enjoy his food.
He spent some time scrutinizing the car’s only other occupants. Two fashionably dressed unicorn mares were sitting in front of him, whispering to each other about something that sounded scandalous. The phrase “new money” was being used frequently. A third mare, this one an earth pony, sat alone at the other end of the car and tried to enjoy her meal in peace.
Thunderlane shut his eyes and took a deep breath before motioning for the waiter’s attention. “You got any meat?” he asked.
If the waiter was surprised, he was professional enough to not show it. “We have chicken and fish for our griffon passengers.”
“Bring me something fried,” Thunderlane said. “I’ll be right right over there.” He sat down at the table adjacent to the talkative mares and made a show of kicking up his hooves.
“Can we help you?” one of the mares asked curiously.
Thunderlane smiled as pleasantly as he could, which rarely amounted to much. This time, however, it earned him a flirty giggle and a wink. Must be the outfit, he thought. “I didn’t mean to pry or nothin’, but I couldn’t help overhearin’ you. What’s this about new money?”
“That mare over there,” the second unicorn said. She pointed to the lonely pony and grimaced as though smelling something foul. “Her husband was a sharecropper, but he struck it rich last year. She’s been making a mockery of good taste ever since, and she shows a terrible disregard for proper form in civilized society.”
“She doesn’t seem so bad,” he said. “Might be that she just doesn’t know any better.”
“I hear that her family used to eat meat,” the first unicorn added in a hushed tone. “Can you imagine? That little mare actually killed, cut up, and ate another living creature! It’s positively barbaric.”
Thunderlane saw that the waiter was returning with his meal. “You ever been hungry?” he asked. “I don’t mean just ready for dinner. I mean, you know, hungry. You ever come close to starvin’ to death?”
The unicorns stared at him with a gratifying mix of horror and uncertainty as the waiter served him a big plate of fried chicken. “Thanks,” he said politely, and turned back to his suddenly uncomfortable companions. “It ain’t healthy for you,” he continued. “You really don’t get much out of it but a full belly, but that’s something. Meat can keep you alive for a little while. You even start to enjoy it.”
One of the unicorns snapped out of her horrified trance long enough to look away. “Well, I never!”
“You’d eat meat,” Thunderlane argued. He cut off a big chunk of chicken and tore into it. “You just don’t know it yet.” He poured some ketchup onto his meal and took another bite. “I bet you’d even fight for the bones afterward, and you know what else? You jing-tzahng mei yong-duh aristocrats would all be better for it.”
One of the unicorns stood up and lurched toward the door. “I’m going to be sick!” the other wailed, and rushed to join her friend. Thunderlane chuckled and picked at his plate. Now that he wasn’t actually trying to intimidate anypony he didn’t feel like eating any more. He would have a stomach ache later, but it was completely worth it. The lonely mare smiled at him, and Thunderlane smiled back.
The dining car’s door burst open and a pair of elegant earth ponies trotted in, calmly scanning the area for their target. Thunderlane pressed the ‘talk’ button on his communicator three times as one of the mares locked eyes with him. Both of them spoke, perfectly in unison even though only one had seen him. “You are an associate of Lyra Heartstrings, correct? We have some questions to ask you.”
*****
Lyra was getting sick of prying open cargo containers by the time she found what she was looking for. The urn was packed in a large wooden crate on a protective bed of straw. So, this is what diamond dog culture looks like, she thought as she lit her flare and held it out the window. Not bad, I guess. It’s sort of pretty.
The communicator attached to her belt squawked three times in rapid succession. If there are any goddesses out there, they must hate me, Lyra thought. She was already trying to think of a good excuse for holding a flare out the window when a mare leaned against the wall next to her.
She was wearing a nice dress and matching saddle bags that suited her fiery mane and coat perfectly, but the aviator sunglasses perched on her nose gave the outfit a slightly offbeat look. Lyra gaped as the former captain of the Wonderbolts crossed her forelegs “Hey,” Spitfire said. “’Sup?”
“What are you doing here?” Lyra demanded. “I’m busy, and I’ve got exactly no time at all for any of your nonsense. How did you find me?”
Spitfire put her hoof over her heart and winced. “That hurts, Lyra. I’m not here for you. I’ve got a career too, you know. I don’t spend all of my time hunting down old war buddies.”
“We ain’t buddies,” Lyra corrected. “Seriously, what are you doing here?”
“I’m working!” Spitfire insisted. “I had to smuggle something through customs. I’m waiting for somepony to try to steal an ancient, cursed burial urn. That wouldn’t be the same ancient, cursed burial urn that you’re about to steal right now, would it?”
Lyra glanced at the wooden crate regretfully. “I was afraid of this,” she moaned.
“This is so great!” Spitfire exclaimed. She nearly crushed Lyra in a hug, causing her to drop the flare. “It’ll be just like old times! Where’s your crew? Are you still riding around in that flying junkyard, or did you find something with more style?”
It was a massive relief when the loud shriek of Sereneighty’s engines passed overhead. Octavia soon landed on the roof, and Lyra ran out from under her. A ring of metal began to glow as a thin stream of sun gel burned through it, and a section of the roof gave way.
Octavia dropped through the opening with a cargo sled tied to her back. She cut it loose and nodded politely to Spitfire before addressing Lyra. “Are we ready?” she asked. “The train will be going through a tunnel soon.”
“Here, take it up and come back for us.” Lyra levitated the wooden crate onto the sled. “We were supposed to go back to our seats and pretend that nothing had happened, but that’s probably out of the question. Thunderlane gave me the signal, so there’s trouble. I’m going to go see what the problem is.”
Just before Octavia was pulled back up to the ship, Lyra tossed her a small medical scanner. “Give that to the doctor,” she said. She noticed Spitfire watching Octavia over the tops of her mirrored sunglasses. “Married now,” she said helpfully.
Spitfire shrugged. “That’s not a deal breaker. Want me to leave a surprise here for our guests?”
“No!” Lyra said. “This is supposed to be a harmless robbery, not a bloodbath. Stay here and don’t get into trouble.” She trotted off to find Thunderlane, hoping that Spitfire would behave herself.
It wasn’t that Spitfire was evil. She had once been a very famous flyer and a loyal soldier with a reputation so great that her subsequent defection from the Empire had barely tarnished it. That was saying something, since she had collaborated with the Purplecoats and killed quite a few of the Empire’s Wonderbolts.
Her reputation helped protect her from any close scrutiny by the Empire after the war, but it did not protect her from the war itself. Spitfire had a unique set of abilities that more superstitious ponies would call psychic powers. It wasn’t a well documented phenomenon, and in fact most ponies would scoff at the idea, but Lyra knew better. Her condition meant that Spitfire was able to sense the emotions of other ponies, and such abilities were not healthy on the battlefield.
Spitfire hadn’t been the same since the war, and her casual offer to blow up a train full of innocent ponies indicated that she hadn’t gotten any better.
Lyra pulled out her derringer and checked to make sure it was loaded. She wasn’t sure what was bothering Thunderlane, but it was probably serious. She wished that she had something more powerful, but her revolver would have been much too difficult to conceal.
The door to the dining car flew open just as she was reaching for the handle. Lyra backpedaled as Thunderlane tumbled head over hooves into a stack of cardboard boxes. He stumbled to his hooves with a large cut above his eye, trying to wipe away the blood so that he could see.
“What’s happening?” Lyra asked. “How many are out there?”
A pair of beautiful mares, one blue and the other pink, strolled into the room. One of them had a bruise on her cheek, but they were otherwise unharmed. “Lyra Heartstrings?” they asked.
“Watch ‘em,” Thunderlane warned. “They’re good, Lyra. I ain’t ever seen anything like it.”
The twins leapt in two different directions, moving with unnatural speed and grace. The blue twin landed in front of Thunderlane and lashed out with her hooves. Lyra didn’t see what happened after that, as she had her own problems to deal with.
Those problems took the shape of a manicured hoof that nearly took her head off. She rolled out of the way and pointed her tiny pistol at the pink pony. “Back off!” she warned. “I don’t want to, but I’ll do it.”
The earth pony spun out of the way and kicked the derringer right out of the air. “So much for that,” Lyra remarked as she caught a second kick on her foreleg. She lifted the leg over her head and fell forward to punch the mare in the face as hard as she possibly could.
Punching the earth pony felt like hitting concrete. Lyra shook her leg out and hoped that she hadn’t broken anything. Her opponent wasn’t even fazed, and fought back with a series of kicks that broke through Lyra’s guard and knocked her to the ground.
Lyra scrambled to reach her pistol, but something caught hold of her rear leg and swung her into a heavy metal drum of machine oil. Lyra felt the metal give when she hit it, but it didn’t give nearly enough. The handful of similar drums stacked on top of the one she hit shook with the impact and nearly fell on her. If the wind hadn’t been knocked out of her before, it certainly was now.
The pink pony was suddenly on top of her, hammering blows into her face and neck that bounced her skull off the floor. Lyra used her magic to shove her attacker away, but she couldn’t manage to lift the petite pony any more than a few feet off the ground. It was enough that she could pull herself together, at least.
“You are tiring,” the earth pony observed coldly. She tried to move in, but Lyra backpedaled enough to stay out of her range. “You may also be hemorrhaging internally. Surrender, and we will let you live.”
“Somehow I doubt that,” Lyra said. “You don’t strike me as the merciful type.” The metal drums above Aloe glowed with Lyra’s magic and toppled over, crushing the unfortunate earth pony beneath them. “Anyway, I got somewhere to be.”
Lyra was extremely irritated to find that Thunderlane was holding his own. In fact, to the blue earth pony’s obvious surprise, he was winning. She nearly managed to chop him in the throat, but he caught her leg and pulled her off balance. He was able to throw her headfirst into the side of the train car, and threw his own weight in behind her. Her head smacked into the metal and she collapsed in an unconscious heap.
Lyra found her derringer and tucked it back into her purse. “Let’s get out of here,” she panted, and hobbled over to where Spitfire was digging around in her saddlebags. “What are you doing?” she asked.
Spitfire pulled out a plastic bag containing several pounds of Buk4. “I’m securing our escape!” she said cheerfully. “How big do we want it? Your choices are huge or ginormous.”
“We aren’t blowing up the train!” Lyra shouted. “Put that away!”
“Oh, this is just typical!” Spitfire argued. “I’m a part of this job too, Lyra! I should get an equal say, and I say we blow this tin can wide open. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder for the Doublemint Twins!”
“We ain’t got time for this!” Thunderlane pointed out. “Lyra, the blue one’s getting’ up and the pink one’s startin’ to move. I don’t know if I could take both at once.”
Lyra sighed regretfully. “You’re right,” she said. “Octavia?” The earth pony dropped back into the train car without making a sound.
Spitfire cocked an eyebrow. “What?” she asked, moments before Octavia’s foreleg wrapped around her throat. She struggled, but Octavia was an experienced killer. Had the situation been different it might have been garrote wire wrapped around her throat. Or, given that Octavia had a penchant for anything that reminded her of music, piano wire.
In no time at all Spitfire was shoved onto the cargo sled and tied down. “I apologize for the delay, sir,” Octavia said as the cable began to haul them both away. “Congratulations on a successful heist.”
“Yeah, I’m just glowing with pride,” Lyra grumbled. “This next part isn’t going to be big on dignity. Thunderlane, I need a lift.” Thunderlane grabbed her gingerly around the middle and tried to lift her into the air. “For Luna’s sake, don’t drop me!” she complained. “Pick me up and carry me! Come on, you’ve done this before!”
Thunderlane got a better grip and launched them both through the hole in the roof. Lyra sighed with relief as the Dodge Junction Express fell away below her. “One more thing,” she added. “Don’t tell anypony that I got beaten up by a Barbie doll, okay?”