Off-limits.
A floating sign by the cloud stack warned any passers-by that approaching what was a cotton traffic jam in the sky was a bad idea. Then again, there was no real point. Its location was remote, far away from civilization and any established flying routes. No pony even came within five miles from the moment Rainbow’s team left until mid-day Friday morning when a heather gray pegasus stallion approached the site, carrying two lumpy saddlebags and a small pouch.
Noticing an open green field within a pine forest, he made haste dumping the two heaviest burdens on the ground. After wiping off some perspiration from his face, the stallion sped right up to the cloud obstruction and then moved up his leather goggles, revealing his dark olive eyes. He needed them for what became a ten-minute visual inspection from the bottom to a few thousand feet above sea level, making mental notes as he revolved around his item of interest.
Once he finished, the pony returned to retrieve his items but stopped just above his luggage. Everything appeared the same condition as he left it except something bugged him enough to check the contents just in case. First, he rummaged through the green bag; everything checked out fine. When he inspected the orange bag, however, a confused eyebrow raised.
“The letter’s not here,” the pony spoke with a young surfer’s tone.
He turned his attention to the pouch still on him by his cutie mark, a slanted up Pegasus wing with two small contrails behind it. Opening the flap, he discovered nothing more than a few hygiene products and a notepad, the items he expected in there, not including the one that had him rubbing his ruffled Smalt-colored mane.
“I don’t get it. C’mon, think! When did I last saw that letter?”
***Start Flashback***
The stallion stood in front of a faux wood door, the name plaque gracing the fascia reading EWA Regional Deputy Managing Agent, Glide Peak. Behind him was a short corridor leading to a large room divided into endless squares by mist gray partitions, the same hue as the walls and just about every other piece of random furniture. Such a drab décor was the custom for an Equestrian Weather Agency office, even by cloud building standards.
Pushing the door open, the grey pegasus entered an office where disorder reigned. Bookcases held no books for they were stacked all across the floor, a few on the top open to a random page. The inbox sitting on the plain white desk served as the spot for an empty coffee cup, while the papers that belonged had to make do lying all over the wide surface. Past the desk was Glide Peak, his coat a dust brown while his short, combed hair had a similar but fading tint, a sign that his best pegasi days were behind him. He sat in a petite office chair, rubbing the stubble on his chin as sunlight illuminated the room through the half-broken window blinds. There was nothing of interest past the hidden panes, though – just a few more floating structures like this one and down below, Coltalapolis, an earth pony city that had nothing unique about it except a larger population size than the typical village.
“Intern Agent Flying High, umm, right?” said Glide Peak in an elderly and gruff voice.
Flying beamed, “Finally got my name right, boss! Nice!”
“I just got the letter of introduction from Ponyville, so you can head out now. I… huh.” Glide scanned through all the sheets littering his desk. “I thought I put it here along with the calculations on the cloud jam from… the weather ponyologist, you know, um, whatshername?”
Fortunately, Flying was more than happy to fill in the memory lapse. “It’s Radar, boss.”
“Radar? Who’s that?”
“The weather ponyologist.”
A brief pause later, “Ohhhhhh, Radar, of course!” Glide got up from his chair and began searching the room, starting with the nearest bookcase holding random knick-knacks. “Why do I keep losing stuff?” he mumbled, knocking down a snow globe.
Flying slid onto the floor, saving the item from shattering into a million pieces. As he set the item on the desk, “Ummmm, boss?”
Moving on to a file cabinet, “Yeah?”
With a hint of concern, “Should we have Radar redo the math before I go? Remember what happened at Gemstone Canyon?”
“Gemstone Canyon?” He repeated saying the locale a few times while scratching his combed mane. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“You know, one of the unpopulated areas EWA’s responsible for?” Flying answered.
Glide shut the drawer with a click. “What about it?” he asked, turning to face his subordinate.
“Remember? Radar did the math and she said there was too much water in the river at the bottom of the canyon, so I punched out all the storm clouds?” Flying stopped, hoping that was enough information to jog Glide’s memory.
The elder shrugged, “And?”
Flying sighed to himself. “River dried up, boss. Had to get new clouds shipped from far away and everypony that lived downriver was mad at me?”
Ding! The light bulb came on but all that happened was Glide patting Flying on the shoulder before circling around his desk, scanning the dusty floor. “Oh, that was a long time ago, Fred.”
Flying quickly corrected, “Um, that was two weeks ago, boss. Oh, and my name’s—”
Glide stepped on two envelopes next to his chair. “Ah! Here they are.”
In seconds, the elder stallion was back on his small chair, sifting through the first envelope’s contents. Glide muttered a few noises of acknowledgement as his eyes skimmed across the parchment. After reading the last word, he reached for a stamper labeled Accepted and pressed it onto the sheet.
“Calculations look good to me, Finch.”
Flying glanced aside, “Flying, boss.”
“Sorry,” he remarked, opening the second envelope. “You look like a Finch. Anyways, let’s see what this introduction letter says.”
Glide cleared his throat:
Dear Mr. or Ms. EWA Pony,
Thank you so much for helping us with our little problem. I will meet you inside Sugarcube Corner at noon Saturday to help get you started. I look so forward to meeting you!
Yours truly,
Pinkie Pie
The old stallion folded the letter back into the envelope, “Huh. I guess this Pinkie Pie will be your partner.”
“Saturday?” Flying’s ears folded. “Bummer. Thought I was finally going to get some free time.”
Glide released a glum sigh. “Sorry, kid. I don’t have anypony else to send right now.”
“I know but it’s just that since I’ve started this internship five months ago, I haven’t had time to make any new friends. I thought this was a part-time gig but I’ve been working full-time hours. That’s why I transferred here.”
Again, another sigh. “It’s been a real busy month, even by our standards and we’re a little short-staffed right now. That’s just the way it is.”
Flying rubbed the floor, realizing he was stuck with this assignment. He tried his best keeping a positive demeanor. “No prob, boss! I’ll get the job done!”
Once he snatched the two envelopes, Flying opened the door to leave.
“Hold on,” Glide beckoned.
Flying faced his superior once more. “Yeah, boss?”
Glide’s mouth curled upwards. “Tell you what. This job should be a piece of cake. Rest up on Saturday, have some fun around this Ponyville and do the job on Sunday night. Then you can have the next week off. Don’t worry. We’ll find a way to manage without you.”
The young stallion’s pupils glistened with joy. “Ah, you’re cool, boss! Won’t let you down!”
Glide chuckled. “Oh, and one last thing, Frank.”
“Flying, boss,” he corrected.
Slapping his forehead, “Sorry, ummm, Flying. Job well done.”
“Huh?” He stared at Glide as though he had lost his mind. “But I haven’t started the job yet, boss.”
“I know. If you do a good job, I’ll say it to you again when you get back but for today it means—” Glide stood up, delivering an aviator’s salute –“good luck, kid!”
Flying repeated the gesture, “Thanks, boss!”
***End Flashback***
Flying moaned aloud. “That’s no help at all! Huh?”
A small white object lying at an angle by a pine tree’s trunk moved, catching the stallion’s attention. How peculiar, he thought. It was many feet away from the saddlebags and he couldn’t blame the wind; there was only a light southerly breeze. However, he had a hunch why that envelope was over there. All he had to do was head on over to its location and lift it for confirmation. Flying found his culprit, a small green turtle.
“Aha!” he exclaimed with a smirk. “Playing hide and seek again, Leo?”
The reptile nodded with a smile.
Flying wagged his foreleg at the turtle, “Way too obvious! You can do better than that!” He sighed. “Well, I guess you don’t wanna ride on the saddlebag anymore. I’ll let you ride on my head from now on, okay?”
He tried grabbing his turtle, but his pet sidestepped just enough to evade his grasp. This was another game the reptile loved playing and given his species’ overall reputation, he certainly defied expectations. Those gray hooves couldn’t touch him the second time, nor the third. Too bad his owner had plenty of practice doing this.
“I gotcha!” Flying held Leo toward the sun. “I hit my average that time!”
After securing his turtle between his ears, Flying returned to the lumpy saddlebags and strapped them back onto his sides. The combined weight had him grunting for more wing flaps, but eventually, he rose above the surrounding trees and aimed toward a crevice carved on the nearby mountainside. With a tug, his goggles shielded his eyes once more from the sun’s glare. His business in this region was over but rather than accelerate forwards, Flying turned his head for one last look at the floating cloud jam. From this distance, it was an ivory tower ascending to the heavens, impressive and yet, somewhat calming to a casual observer.
Yet, Flying felt some uneasiness, knowing that his obligatory tour told him that this gargantuan mass was shifting its thick mass around. Clouds usually did that except how the white ripples moved was unnatural, so much that he dared not touch the surface for an irrational fear that the cloud would somehow devour him.
No, Fly! Stop thinking silly things! Nothing to worry about!
Addressing his turtle sitting on his forelock, “Ready, Leo?”
Leo tapped his noggin.
“Ok! Hang on, buddy! Next stop, Ponyville!”