Stale air billowed out from beneath the airship, one of its few functional engines wheezing and sputtering in defiance as it approached the tower. A crane moved lazily towards the airbag, its gigantic claw snatching it up like a diamond dog picking up a loose stone, drawing it in until the ship thumped into place.
In the rusting carriage below, a griffin huffed, content that he had once again succeeded in the menial task of docking the ancient ship. Reaching out with a clawed hand, he tapped the fuel gauge, his satisfaction suddenly as empty as their tanks. Around him were his only awakened companions: dust motes that stirred in the air, disturbed by the soft landing, and the few ticking dials that had outlasted their competition.
He grunted and touched the comm unit that had been unceremoniously cut into the pilot’s console. “Captain, we’ve docked.”
Silence filled the cabin, interrupted only by the port-side window rattling in the winds. Through it he could see the grey and white city of Rook in all of its splendor. He knew his impression would change once they hit the ground; some places were only pretty from above.
“Oh, good, we made it,” a husky voice replied, with an utter lack of enthusiasm. “How much fuel do we have ourselves left, Brief?”
“Tenth of the tank, Captain,” the griffin replied as he reached out and shutdown the engine. His claw hovered over the ignition switch as he wondered if it would even start up again. “We’ll be needing to refuel and make some repairs,” he added.
The captain grumbled. “S’long as we love her, she’ll take us where we need to go. Then again, she does love that gas. Any work lined up?”
Brief stood, stretching his back and wings as he abandoned the console and began walking towards the back of the ship. There, near the doorway into the main room, was a run-down comm device. He grabbed two of the wires poking out of it and touched them together with the tip of his claws. Sparks flew. “No, Captain, no work. We need to find some.”
“Yeah, can’t pay the landing tariff already. And I think we ran outta things to strip and sell. Wonder if we could park and run?”
“Not advisable,” Brief said before letting go. The line went dead with a crackling pop of static.
He opened the door, a burst of air pressure blasting by him and into the thin, long corridor that bisected the ship. From here, he could see all the way to the hatch that opened into the hangar and all the side doors leading to commodities and the bunks.
One of those doors screeched open on rusting hinges and the captain, outlined against the flickering electric light, stepped out of the gaping maw. The earth pony looked down both ends of the corridor and smiled at Brief before tousling his brown mane. “Guess we’ll have to go out and look for work, then.”
“Yes, Captain.”
He rolled his dark blue eyes and pulled on the lapels of his coat. “Don’t forget to keep that ‘Captain’ stuff quiet when we’re out there. Last thing I need is for some poor idiot to get the idea that we have some bits worth taking,” he said as he adjusted the leather belt around his hip, securing the holster hanging there. In it was an old gun, well worn, used too often and scarred by the way it had been used, but it was a good weapon and the captain cherished it.
“Yes, Captain,” Brief said as they began walking down the corridor towards the aft. Halfway there, Brief paused, unlocked a closet door, and yanked out a short, stubby rifle with three rotating cylinders. He grabbed a bandolier and slung it over his wide shoulder, leaving the gun hanging over his back with its barrel pointing to the ground. “Where are we going to find work?”
The captain shrugged, his response to everything that required time to think about. “Wish I knew and don’t you know it. But I figure we could head over to the brothel first thing.”
The griffin sighed, closing his eyes as a jet of warm air escaped him. “Captain....”
“From here on out it’s Ardour, old friend,” the earth pony said, giving his companion a lopsided grin. “Don’t worry, we’ll pull out of this one, somehow. S’long as we love her, this rust bucket’s going to fly.”
Brief nodded and the two stood by the doorway, looking each other in the eye. There was no exchange of camaraderie or love or friendship—they had known each other too long for that—but there was an admission of mutual capability and the knowledge that each knew his place.
Ardour placed his shoulder on the door and pushed.
A chill wind seeped into the corridor, ruffling the griffin’s thick coat and tossing the lapels of the captain’s coat aside. Neither one admitted to being cold as they trotted into the main, and only, hangar of their ship. From above, they could see the entirety of the meager cargo hold, from the rusty cradle that had once held a lifeboat to the wide, winch-operated door at the back.
They ignored the spaces between the plating where daylight poured in along with the cold air and they pretended not to notice the growing scrap heap of now-unusable parts piled on one side. Reaching the back door, Ardour let Brief pass him and wrestle with the exit.
Grinding his beak and grunting, the griffin put all of his strength into the task of yanking back the door lever until it finally popped open.
Rook sprawled out before them.
The city was one of contrasts, both vivid and stark. Both the affluent and the citizens of the Crown lived in the high grounds, a circular half-wall separating them off from the undesirable cold winds of the great lake and the equally distasteful others. Those others lived in the nook of the half-moon, struggling to leech off the city’s heat and health.
There, the bright lights of open fires dotted the blackened landscape, illuminating a layer of mud and smoke spread across the land like mud over a garden.Tents sprouted like strangled weeds, their cloth walls battered by the weak breeze while the citizens of the ghetto moved about, a panoply of colourful unicorns and pegasi, diamond dogs and griffins.
“Place still looks like crap,” Ardour said, licking his lips against the cold. “Come on. It’s still early, but if we dilly-dally, we’ll run out of the time we have before the Crown starts asking for the tariff.” He stepped out of the ship, hooves striking the hard steel grating of the walkway they were on. On either side of them were other airships, most of them modern constructs whose gasbags were hidden underneath the metal plating that coated their surfaces. Aerodynamics was not the forte of these ships.
Brief followed his captain, blinking down through the grated floor and at the ground a hundred metres below.
The architects of the town were smart. From its inception they had built large, tall towers that reached into the sky and were covered in every conceivable docking apparatus. This meant two things of great importance to the Crown: the government could regulate and charge any landing ship, and more importantly, they were the only provider of fuel and safe harbor on this end of the great lake.
He looked up, eyes narrowing as he fixed his attention on the overcast sky above, where blurs of every colour zipped around in a chaotic dance—planes and hovercraft carrying ponies and some light cargo from one end of the city to another—ships small enough that regulating them was too difficult of a task, at least for now.
“Hurry up, Brief. I want off of this thing before the greys show up,” Ardour called from farther down the rails. Brief nodded and flew after the captain.
They circulated around the tower’s circumference and to the great cargo elevator shaft, only waiting a minute before the slow-moving platform reached their level and began to descend. The platform filled the central shaft of the tower, tall and long enough to fit a hundred skinny ponies. As they passed layer after layer of ships, Ardour inched to the platform’s edge and stared out into the horizon.
He was, as his mother would have put it, bucked harder than an apple tree on a Tuesday. He didn’t quite know what it meant, but he felt like it. Above him, he could see the tiny shape of his ship, the faded logo on its side hardly legible enough to read the name of the Sky Clipper anymore, with the ip beginning to look like a deformed o. That at least was a little problem, one that could be fixed with a fresh coat of paint. No, his bigger problems were much larger and, sadly, far more plentiful than running ink.
“You okay, Captain?” Brief asked as he hovered nearby, ever loyal and ready.
“I’m fine, just thinking.” He sighed. “It could all be over, you know?”
“There’s always hope.”
Ardour sat down, then stood back up when his hindquarters touched the cold steel. “Maybe. One last job. One more meal. A few more bits in our pockets. It’s odd. I always thought that hitting rock-bottom would involve more shooting and explosions.”
“That could be arranged,” Brief said, and the two grinned at each other.
“Well, we’ve yet to visit Velvet Vice. There might be some explosions involved,” Ardour said. Brief shivered. “Don’t be afraid. Velvet owes us one, and unless we act like real idjits, then there’s a decent chance that she’ll help us out. Maybe.”
The platform thumped to a stop on ground level. Ponies trotted out while lifting machines rolled in. Others pushed in levits with their foreheads, the levitating aircraft sliding into the platform with a gush of warm, diesel-scented air,
The two trotted off and onto the broad street, eyeing the two directions they could take. One path led to the city within the walls while the other path was dirty and grimy, with cardboard boxes and bits of waste strewn about, leading down to Rook’s massive ghetto.
They started down the lower road, shouldering their way through the crowded landing around the tower and onto the rutted path. Once they cleared the crowd, the road’s population thinned off. Shacks and buildings hardly worthy of the title of “edifice” stuck out at random on either side of them, still being visited by the early morning shoppers. Guards were out in force, all of them earth ponies in gunmetal grey uniforms walking with a stiff, if weary, step along the centre of the lane.
“You remember where Vice’s place is at?“ Ardour asked, leaning in towards Brief.
The cold roads weren't made for the comfort of the unwary. “Yes. Next left, then a ways towards the interior wall. She's next to one of the side gates,” the griffin answered as they took a wide berth around the guards.
They trotted around the corner and past tobacco stores, pawn shops, and low-end gun dealerships. A mixed bag of races greeted them, from diamond dogs that bit at their own hunches to jaunt-cheeked unicorns eyeing them from the shadows of the alleys. At the end of the street was their destination.
Unlike its neighbours, Vice's boutique was clean.
The square, brick building radiated a sort of warmth, a warmth at odds with the imposing grey wall set next to it. It had no gaudy decoration or flamboyant sign, save for a red sash pouring out of one of the windows on the top floor. Two burly stallions stood near the entrance, rifles resting on their wide shoulders.
One of them stared at Ardour and Brief as they approached, eyeing their weaponry before nodding. “Hello, gentlemen,” the bouncer called, voice somewhere between a warm greeting and a cautious reminder that he was armed.
“Hey, we’re here to see Velvet,” Ardour replied, stepping ahead of Brief and standing a dozen paces from the guard.
The stallion smiled knowingly. “Pay day come in early? Or a late-summer bonus? Either way, you’re welcome inside, after you place your weapons in the coffers, please.”
The other stallion pulled the door open and the mixed smells of perfume, wood fire, and mareliness poured out of the house, wrapping itself around the heads of the two visitors. “Welcome to Velvet’s,” the stallion said.
Ardour trotted in first, reaching around to tug his belt off as he did so. Brief, right behind him, was already undoing the buckle of his bandoleer.
A small room greeted them, filled with plenty of sitting room and a framed hole in the opposite wall, beside yet another thick door. A mare was sitting behind the opening, only looking up from her hoof-polishing when Ardour placed his hoofgun on the table. “Oh, a regular,” she purred, setting down the nail file and winking at the captain. “What can we do to you boys today?”
Ardour swallowed. “I need to talk to Velvet, if that’s possible,” he said, tugging at the lapels of his rugged old jacket.
The mare batted her eyes at him and smiled. “That could be arranged,” she said, before snatching their weapons off the table. “But first, we’ll be needing to search you.”
The door opened up and two pretty young mares strutted out, smiling and giggling as they spun around Ardour and Brief, poking and prodding the gentlecolts with a more-than-teasing approach. “They’re clear,” one of them announced once they were done searching the two blushing males.
“All right, boys. You two head on in. Miss Vice is at the end of the great room and to the right. Have fun,” she said, biting her lower lip and winking at them one last time before they walked into the next room.
They found themselves in a parlor. Candlelight splashed against every wall from a gigantic crystal chandelier and played with the minds of the two men as it illuminated a lot of bare fur. Mares were lying on couches or frolicking around the room, while others were trotting out of bathing rooms followed by long trails of steam that caressed their bodies before filling the room with their scent.
Ardour swallowed hard and began walking with stiff legs.
In that day and age, the wearing of clothing had become a custom in more civilised parts. There was no shame, per se, in being au-naturel, but it was becoming uncommon as more and more tried to appear dignified.
Dignity was the last thing on the mind of Velvet Vice’s employees.
A cute, red-headed mare accosted Ardour, rubbing up against him with a muffled moan. “Hello, handsome,” she said. “You know, if you follow me, you’ll be screaming my name all night long.” She leaned forwards, biting at his earlobe before he jerked away. “My name’s Oh Gawd,” she whispered.
“Um, thank you, Miss Gawd, but, uh, I’m here on business,” Ardour said as he pulled away from the mare. Another grabbed him just as easily.
“Oh, but sir, we’re all business here,” she said, coming in to land a soft peck on his cheek.
The captain spun around, noting to his dismay that Brief, his stoic griffin companion, was immobile under the tender care of three fawning mares, a griffin, and a leather-bound stallion with far too much make-up on. “Captain, if it’s possible, I wish to wait outside,” the griffin said.
“Nope, you’re coming with me,” the captain said, reaching through the crowd to grab his companion by the collar. “Move it, ladies and freak, we have to talk to Velvet!” He glared at the mares around him. “Ain’t got the time to play with all of you, no matter how tempting it might be," he said, tactfully choosing to not mention that they were flat broke.
The mares moved away from the two guests and allowed them to cross the room on the wings of cruel giggles and quick bits of gossip. The second wind died off as Ardour looked ahead and at the palatial staircase rising to the floor above. Between the split that cut the stairs in half was a smallish corridor, lit only by a single electric bulb casting its white light on the wallpapered walls.
They walked in, feeling the walls close in around them as they approached their goal. The door to the left had a humble little plaque with VELVET VICE scribed on it. He knocked.
“Come on in, Ardour,” a cold, feminine voice ordered, the captain’s name dripping off her tongue like venom.
Ardour and Brief traded a look before the stallion placed a hoof on the curved handle and pressed, opening the door with a shuddering click. He pushed it open and let his eyes twitch from one extremity of the large office to another. Sitting behind an old desk made of extinct wood was a lithe mare tucked within a swiveling thing that was closer to a throne than a true chair. The queen of whores.
“Hello, Velvet Vice,” he said, taking a smooth step into the office. “Didn’t think I’d be seeing you so soon!”
She arched an eyebrow at him. “Yes, well, I was hoping that I would never have to see you again. But life is filled with such disappointments, isn’t it?”
Equipping his best roguish smile, Ardour trotted in and hopped into one of the two seats before the desk, letting his hoof run along the leather armrest. “Nice place,” he said, pointing around the spartanly decorated office.
“It hasn’t changed since you were last here. You remember? The ordeal with Lickety Splits?"
He held back a flinch. “Ah, yeah, how is she?”
“Pregnant.” The mare leaned back into her chair, touching the tip of her two forehooves together. “What do you want, Ardour? I’m a busy mare. I have an army to look over and customers to please. You haven’t come here since... she left us.”
He coughed into his hoof. “Well, I’m here to ask for a favour—”
She barked a laugh, slamming a hoof on the table in glee. “Oh, Ardour! You’re priceless. Now, what could you and your hairy friend possibly need so badly that you’d sink as low as to return to my humble abode? This I must hear. It might make it more enjoyable to kick you out of here if I do so after refusing you.”
“Come on, Vice, we’re not that bad, the two of us. We never treated you with anything but respect.”
Velvet sighed as she leaned into her seat. “Ardour, I lead a kingdom of whores. How much weight do you honestly think we put on respect?”
“A bit?”
“Yes, we’d sell all of our respect for about that much,” she mused, a creeping smile spreading across her sharp features. “Now, answer my question. Why should I help you?”
Ardour sat down hard on the wooden floor, his brown tail sweeping from side to side behind him. “You probably shouldn’t. Even if we guarantee repayment, it’d just be a lie. At this point though, we’d do just about anything to get out of the pit we’ve dug for ourselves. I want to see the Sky Clipper flying again.”
Velvet paused, licking her lips as she broke eye contact and looked around the room. “I hear something very similar from the ponies that work for me. Always on the first day they come in. It’s usually delivered with a few more tears.”
“I can do tears if you want,” he offered.
She grinned in reply. “I might take you up on that, but not right now. Okay, mister Captain, give me your best shot. Tell me, what is this favour?”
“We need work. We need work something fierce. The whole way in we rang up every old customer, every long-time buddy, every scrappy job, and got nothing. We can’t even afford tonight’s tariff at the docks.”
“Well, I’m sorry, Ardour, but you’re just not pretty enough to work in my establishment. Roguish is out nowadays. The ladies want shy and timid, not sarcastic and dumb.” She made a gesture in mid-air with a hoof, as if to a pony at Ardour’s side.
He looked at the empty space beside him, then refocused on Velvet as she pulled in the lacy black jacket she wore around her shoulders. “You know what I mean, Vice. I need real work. N-not that what you and your ladies do ain’t work, that is. I’m sure it’s back-breaking... on their backs, um....”
“Shut up, Ardour. You’re digging a hole that will end with your body at the bottom. I understood what you meant.” She turned to his side again. “Bargain Bin, Honeysuckle, fetch me Crimson Chin. I have a few quick questions.”
Just as Ardour and Brief looked at each other and communicated wordlessly about the mental state of Vice, two mares materialized on either side of the room, their horns glowing with the aftereffect of their cloaking spells. “Yes, Mistress Vice,” they said in unison before popping out of existence.
“I have a few informants in the city; they keep tabs on my customers and the ponies working the corners and alleys. I don’t mind petty competition, but I try to trim out the bad weeds. We already have a rather distasteful amount of renown around these parts. Crimson’s a good mare. She might have what you’re looking for in terms of work.”
Ardour swallowed, trying not to let his sudden joy show as he shifted his weight from haunch to haunch on the plush seat. He heard Brief sigh beside him. “Thank you, Velvet, really. Even if this doesn’t pan out.”
She smiled, showing off a dazzling array of white teeth that had been tenderly cared for by the hooves of expensive professional dentists. “You expect me to not ask for twice as much in return? I know you, Ardour. You might be too honourable to sample my wares without paying, but one day you’ll have some bits rattling around your little purse, and we’re experts at emptying the sacks of silly males.”
Ardour squirmed around in his seat, allowing a goofy smile to cross his features. “Whatever you say, Velvet. You talk big for such a tiny mare.”
“Oh, I can take some big things all on my own. But you’ll have to pay a lot to see that.”
“You sure? Rumour is that you’re a virgin,” he retorted.
“I can be, for a price.”
A mare barged into the room, her crimson mane waving around her delicate features as she trotted a wide circle around the men and stopped at Velvet’s side. She bowed, her rump rising to the air while her face almost touched the ground. “Miss Velvet, you called?”
“Hmm, yes, Crimson. I need to know a little something, but the question is rather vague. These two gentlecolts,” she said as she pointed at Ardour and Brief, “wish to find work in these parts. They captain a small, rusty piece of junk that’s hardly fit to fly. Well, ‘captain’ is a big word. Anywho, they’re looking for work and I was wondering if you knew about something that could be mutually beneficial?”
The mare nodded, frowning in thought as she ducked her head. With a sudden blink, she stood back up and smiled before leaning in towards Velvet. She whispered something into the queen’s ear, only trailing bits of it reaching out to Brief and Ardour.
Velvet nodded, then looked across her room for a moment before replying in the same hushed tone she had been addressed with.
Crimson nodded as she received the message, then bowed just as Velvet finished. “Understood, Mistress,” she said, and rushed out of the room.
Squirming in his seat, Ardour licked his lips and waited while Velvet hummed an off note. “Well, Ardour, there’s something that might interest you. Are you familiar with Two Bits? He goes by the name ‘Sleazy.’”
“He’s only the worst scumbag in pony history. I wouldn’t trust him with a wad of stepped-on chewing gum. Wouldn’t want to work with him either. I’d rather sign up with the Crown navy,” he grumbled, crossing his hooves over his chest as he puffed it out.
She arched an eyebrow at him. “He’s got work that needs your sort of finesse.”
“He can find it elsewhere. I’m not that desperate.”
“The pay’s in six digits.”
He swallowed. “Where can I sign on?”
Ardour was not the kind of pony to be swayed by riches or greed. He was not the kind of pony to place the worth of a bit over that of a friend’s, or even a stranger’s, need. He was also not the kind of pony that would refuse a Goddess-sent gift when it landed at his hooves, especially when he was in such dire need.
“You can’t. Crimson Chin told me that the information’s a little dated, but she did know that Sleazy wants to run an operation involving the transportation of goods. He’s ready to pay top dollar for it too. I’m not sure whether or not the job has already been taken or not. It seems profitable enough.”
“And how do you know all this?” he asked, twirling a small circle in the air to emphasize speed.
She bit her bottom lip and leaned in. “His little henchponies are surprisingly talkative when they sleep.” Velvet laughed as both Ardour and Brief cringed back into their seats, but her laughter abruptly cut off when her mood shifted. “Okay, you two may leave now. You’re a liability wherever you go. Say hello to Sleazy for me, and try not to get yourselves shot. It might ricochet and dent my reputation.”
“Aww, you actually care for us, don’t you Velvet?” Ardour said as he slid out of his seat. “Thanks, and I mean it. We’ll pay you back, eventually.”
“I look forward to it,” she said before adding a roguish smile and a small wave. “Get out of here before I shoot you.”
The two companions walked out of the office and into the cramped corridor, breathing out twin sighs of relief when the door finally clicked shut. Ardour sat hard on his rump, falling into the plush carpet as he wiped a hoof across his forehead and looked over to Brief. The griffin was almost sweating.
“That was interesting,” he said, turning away from Brief and glaring at the lobby room ahead, wherein writhing masses were amusing themselves on the couches, and eager stallions and a few mares were trotting in with foolish grins. He imitated their smile. “Hey, Brief. We have work!”
“Yes, Captain, we have work. Maybe.”
“Yeah, maybe.” He grinned at his long-time friend. “Well, let’s go bug Sleazy then.”
The griffin groaned.