//------------------------------// // Chapter Four: Discussion and Division // Story: Unbound Skies // by Luminary //------------------------------// by JaketheGinger and Luminary A shiver went down Rarity’s spine that had nothing to do with the wind whipping over the airship’s open deck. In fact, that cold air was almost a relief. The white-noise sound of it whistling past her ears. The feel of its cold purity in lungs so accustomed to iron and smoke. Even the discomfort of the chill burrowing past the delicate fabric of her gown. All of it was a blissful distraction.         Unfortunately, it wasn’t distraction enough to wipe the image of that adorably pink hoof from Rarity’s mind. What would normally be another precious part of a unique and wonderful pony was bruised, battered, and covered in brown, dried, flaking blood. Blood from a pony that Rarity had killed. There was something horribly symbolic in that blood. It was so fitting to show the violence she’d inflicted by tearing Pinkie from her oh-so-noble life. “Stiff upper lip, Rarity,” she murmured to herself, when she felt moisture gather in her eyes. “What’s one pony’s innocence worth against the stakes of all of this?” She felt her head sinking down until her chin was almost brushing the railing she stood by. You’re not a pragmatic pony at heart. Pinkie is worth a very great deal indeed, Rarity thought with a note of bitterness. The change had been painfully obvious right from the beginning. The denial and the disillusion. And Rarity couldn’t think of anything she could have done to make it better. But the worst part was that, in hindsight, she could think of what she should have done. She should have sent Pinkie back down that passage. It was doubtful that anyone would have looked twice at a tinkermare by her lonesome heading home through The Bellows. But she hadn’t. She hadn’t even thought of it. The only thing Rarity could think of as an explanation for her sin was that she couldn’t bear to send Pinkie away. It wasn’t every day one was saved in so selfless, so beautiful a manner.   My knight in raspberry armor. The thought threatened to cut through the gloom. Hardly what I would have imagined. Not a refined, chivalrous unicorn stallion. But instead an absurd, often-oblivious earth pony toymaker. A mare, no less. A long-suffering sigh bubbled up from inside of her. She stared out at the passing sea of pristine clouds, trying to banish her thoughts. Her hardly-infrequent flights of affectionate fancy rarely went well, and this one was even more hopeless than the rest. Worse than hating her, Pinkie had seen something monstrous in her. It would have been impossible enough to measure herself up against a pony so full of love and life even with her own false pretentions of nobility intact, with those stri— A pony softly cleared their throat behind Rarity. Rarity yelped in shock, spinning around so quickly that she almost tripped over her own hooves. It brought her face-to-face with a familiar vision of black and grey. The earth pony ‘captain’ from the hold. A blush burned hot on Rarity’s cheeks, and she knew how visible it must have been. She lowered her head in an apologetic bow, using the curl of her hair to hide her reddening cheeks as best she could. She brought a hoof to her chest as she straightened herself up into a more dignified posture. “I do apologize, you startled me,” Rarity said, superfluously. The earth pony was far less flustered. She dipped her front down in a smooth curtsy. “It’s I who should apologize. I just thought to introduce myself. Octavia Philharmonica. The second mate on the ship, carrying the rank of Lieutenant Commander.” “Philharmonica? As in...” Octavia cut her off with a nod. “As in Sir Quintus Philharmonica, yes. The composer, and the Minister of Culture for the last three Lords Regent.” A unicorn. A very prominent unicorn. Dalliances with the ‘lesser tribes’ happened, but it was always spoken of. Rarity was shocked to have heard nothing of the scandal. Even though Octavia was likely to be near her own age, she would have expected many more snide and sneering references to be spoken behind the elder unicorn noble’s back. She didn’t dare dally long, however. It would be rude. So she instead did her part of the introduction. At the very least, it was something practiced and familiar. She raised a hoof to her chest and dipped her head politely, but not overly low. A proper way to address a lower-ranked noble. “I am Rarity Belle. Viscountess of Bright Pine. Formerly now, I suppose.” It was Octavia’s turn to look surprised, although for her it manifested only as the smallest tilt of her left ear. “I was unaware that the Viscount Bright Pine had a daughter. To say nothing of a granddaughter.” Rarity felt her lips pull toward a wry flatness. Much like the introduction itself, this was a rather familiar turn to the conversation. “He never had children. I’m the widow Bright Pine.” “I see.” Octavia’s tone was politely neutral, as Rarity expected it would be. As it always was. At least this time she could say something in response. “It was a marriage of… purpose. Not passion. Such things aren’t for a stallion nearing his hundred and fiftieth. Not that he wasn’t a remarkable stallion; he was sweet, noble, and kind, if perhaps withdrawn.” The unicorn shrugged helplessly. “It may make more sense once I speak with the ship’s captain. It wasn’t a mercenary arrangement, flattering him for bits and title.” Rarity pursed her lips. “It was patriotism.” “It sounds like quite the story, Your Ladyship,” Octavia answered politely. Rarity fought down the urge to squint, as if that would magically reveal some hint of what the earth pony’s reaction truly was. All she saw was a placid politeness, which revealed nothing beyond that it would be a poor choice to play cards against the grey mare. Rarity almost squirmed on her hooves, hurriedly deciding to change the subject. “I suppose we both must have rather colourful stories, to end up here. A Canterlot—” Earth pony. “—noblemare taking the role of—” A criminal. A pirate. “—a freedom fighter,” Rarity finished, diplomatically. “We don’t all pick our paths, My Lady,” Octavia said, conversationally. “But nor are they all full of twists and turns. I’d hoped to be a musician, to follow in my sire’s hoofsteps. But Canterlot is what it is. So my birthright wasn’t spoken of and my schooling was one of an armsmare. A noble enough profession. I was assigned to the august Lady Lulamoon, as she and her fleet hunted for the pirate—” Octavia’s lip curled upward at one corner, likely the most emotion Rarity had yet seen from the mare. “—Goldmane. When that ‘dread’ enemy was laid low, this ship was captured, Captain Lulamoon turned coat, and I went with her. It seemed better than a life…” Octavia trailed off. “Better than the alternative. I would call it a simple story.” Rarity couldn’t keep her curiosity from getting the better of her. “You mentioned the ship. I imagine that Plain Sight is a teasing alias?” Octavia nodded her head. Even with that, Rarity noticed, there wasn’t one hairbreadth of wasted movement. It was intriguing to watch. “Quite true, My Lady. When it was under its former captaincy, it was the Vainglorious. Certain aspersions were made regarding Lady Lulamoon and that name. So she renamed her the Unbound Skies.” “I can see the connection,” Rarity said, dryly. “More importantly, your story. You called it simple. I suppose it follows directly enough, but that doesn’t make it any less meaningful. It takes no small amount of courage to endure when so many things are stacked against you.” A set of small orange hooves pounded their way across the deck, making for a fast-paced rhythm. A pony that could have only been a child made her way towards the mares, nodding at Octavia and addressing Rarity with, “The Captain wants to see you now.” She saw Octavia giving her a faint look of disapproval. “Er, ma’am.” It took all of a single, sparing glance to catch Rarity’s entranced attention. The gallant carmine waistcoat, with its gleamingly polished gold buttons. The adorably ruffled shirt, brilliantly clean and white, reaching up to the neck. Even the jauntily hanging pocket watch, with its chain threaded through a loop on the shirt’s chest, so it could be grabbed with the mouth. When added to the bright expression, slightly ruffled fuchsia mane, and the roguish little clip taken out of the ear, the tiny pegasus was entirely irresistible. Rarity scooped the child up in her magic. “Oh!” she began, almost breathlessly. Her tone became even more gushing as she went. “You are absolutely the most darling little colt I’ve ever seen in my life!” The child’s expression immediately went sullen. “I’m a filly, not a colt,” she grumbled, then started to nip at her clothes. “Stupid Trixie making me wear this stupid stuff…” “Stupid Captain Trixie making you wear that ‘stupid stuff’, Scootaloo,” Octavia corrected, serenely. The filly rolled her eyes, fidgeting in Rarity’s magical grip. She seemed used to being levitated, unlike most ponies. “Right, Captain Trixie. How could I forget…” Rarity’s expression was somewhere between mortified embarrassment and a pout. In the end, she settled Scootaloo onto the deck, and used her hoof to nudge the filly’s muzzle away from tugging at her clothing. “Now, now. I won’t say that I’m exactly in favor of abstaining from a dress for a proper young lady. But I suppose life aboard ship being what it is, sacrifices must be made.” Rarity felt a smile creeping back onto her muzzle. “Besides, it really is just the most precious thing in all Equestria. And those are very fine clothes. So don’t fuss now.” She made a little shooing motion with her hoof. “Lead on then, dear.” Scootaloo opened her mouth to protest, but another subtly pointed look from Octavia made her reconsider. “Follow me… ma’am.” She turned and trotted off at pace that was a bit too quick to be strictly proper. =====☼===== She should have been back in bed, all things considered. It wasn’t like she held some important rank, or that anypony really cared if she was present or not, Trixie especially. But alas, there Lyra was, all snotty, sniffling, and shivering. The shroud of blanket over her did little to cure her. Admittedly, the universe was giving her an ample reminder of the error of her thinking. There was one pony who cared a bit too much that she was there. The one balancing a bowl of thick vegetable soup in front of her muzzle, using an ivory hoof and pinions. “C’mon now. Have to eat something, you silly girl,” Surprise insisted. “Starve a fever, feed a cold, an’ all that.” Lyra stared down her muzzle at the orangey-yellow substance. It smelled good. Or rather, she assumed so, since it usually did. Surprise’s prescription for every mood and ailment was ‘soup’. And she hadn’t eaten anything for a while. But… “It’ll only come b-back up…” Lyra said, shaking her head very slightly. “Sure, that was the case three days ago. But we haven’t exactly tested it since, y’know?” Surprise bumped her muzzle against the top of Lyra’s head. “Mostly because you’ve been so stubborn. So, hoof coming down. Sip, or I start biting cute minty ears and making you look silly in front of everyone you want to impress.” Thankfully, Lyra’s blushing was already masked by her feverish state. “Okay…” Despite her defeat, she smirked a little. “But you’ll h-have to feed me.” “Isn’t it, like, an official crime or something, to make a pegasus do something like that when you have a horn? I’m sure it is.” Despite her playful complaints, Surprise turned her head to mouth at the buckle holding her bandolier of tools. It fell to the lovingly polished deck with a raucous clatter. A buzzing sound, like that of a badly-tuned steam rotor, was heard from the other end of Trixie’s dining cabin. A magenta-maned little head appeared over the far side of the mess table. Orange hooves worked to keep her up on that edge, so that purple eyes could bore into Surprise like a drill. Surprise had the presence of mind to look abashed at the silent scolding from Trixie’s young steward. The pegasus quickly went back to what she was doing, so she could pretend to ignore that glare. She settled her chest, now freed of jabby tools, against Lyra’s back, snuggling in closer so she could more easily lift that bowl to her marefriend’s lips. Lyra suddenly burst into a swear, flinching. “Gah! Let me blow on it first!” With a fond roll of her eyes, Surprise shifted the bowl more securely atop her hoof. The tips of her wings fluttered in a tiny waving motion, kicking up a disproportionally powerful breeze. Pegasus magic at work. “I hope you realize that you’d probably, like, starve without me. For fear of the scary, hot soup.” “I’d die of heartbreak first,” Lyra quipped, leaning her head back to give her partner a quick little nuzzle before sipping on her soup. She didn’t take the time to savor it, swallowing in almost no time at all. The pegasus busied herself with giving the bundled unicorn a happy squeeze with her available foreleg. “Aww, see, you’re feeling better already. Starting to be all dashingly charming again, Heartstrings. I guess I won’t have to trade for the sturdier model after all!” As if on cue, a flash of eye-scalding pink appeared at the edge of Surprise’s vision, entering through the spacious cabin’s double doors. She captured one of Lyra’s ears gently between her lips and gave it a covert tug to turn the smaller pony’s head in that direction. “Hey, look!” she whispered. “That’s the new mare. The one who made the alligator. What’cha think? I want that manecut, bad. So hurry up and have your brain stop overheating so your magic works properly.” Lyra raised her eyebrows, blinking. “I think I’m either having a fever dream or she’s your secret twin sister that you’ve never told me about.” Surprise blinked and turned her head a little more, trying to be subtle about studying the toymaker closely. “I think you’re not seeing straight. She’s, like, half a hoof shorter’n me. And a stone heavier. And…” The pegasus trailed off and frowned, leaning back a bit to get a better view of one of the room’s mirrors, turning her head this way and that, to inspect her own reflection. “I get it, I get it.” Lyra nudged the bowl with her muzzle. “You’re sexier though.” There was a relieved edge to Surprise’s expression at Lyra’s admission. Anything to distract her from the fact that she was increasingly seeing the unicorn’s point. There were certainly similarities around the eyes and muzzle. “Darn right.” Her lips crept slowly back toward a thoughtful frown. “I don’t care. She totally can’t be related. Cloudsdale is parked ages away from Canterlot these days. And my folks were all a bunch of tribalist jerks, anyway. No way they’d go down to get fresh with earth ponies. So I’m takin’ the risk.” “Surprise.” The pegasus motioned across the room with a wing, to where the target of their conversation was leaning forward, bringing her muzzle down to cheerfully introduce herself to the Captain’s filly steward. “C’mon. Look how cheery and friendly she is. She’s like, a pink Lyra.” “Surprise.” “S’just a bit of harmless fun. Would be weird and creepy to paw at the lower-ranked crew,” Surprise plowed on, unhindered. “Octy and Trixie are both such prudes. Berry is… Berry. The twins don’t go for mares, s’far as anypony can tell. Surprise needs something to flirt at, darn it. Cabin fever is a fatal condition. I assume.” “Surprise!” The white mare’s ear twitched. “Hmm? What?” “You’re cute when you’re paranoid. Also,” she inclined her head towards the soup, “feed me.” “Oh! Right.” Surprise shook her wings, creating a rustling sound, to banish their instinct to droop in embarrassment. Instead she turned them to the task of lifting that bowl again. “Mmmm,” Lyra hummed as she slurped the soup down. When the bowl parted from her lips, she licked them clean. “Thanks, love. Always feel better with you around.” Surprise beamed and buried her muzzle happily against the blankets draped over Lyra’s mane. “Same!” A bottle of wine moved its way towards the pair, followed by Berry leaning toward them, after sitting herself down at their side. “You’re both cute and all, but you better stow the lovey-dovey stuff; Trixie’s here soon.” Lyra’s ears flattened, right as she seemed to deflate in size. “Yeah, got it. Thanks.” On the other side of the spectrum, Surprise seemed distinctly unmoved. If anything, she snuggled herself up a little closer to the blanket-mummified mare, resting her chin atop Lyra’s head in a mix of pride and possessiveness. “Would do the ol’ Captain good to lose some of the grumpiness. We’re the good guys. We’re supposed to be all lovey-dovey compared to the baddies. S’a defining trait. Heroes hug. Villains strangle foals and stuff.” “I’m just saying,” Berry offered, reclining on her creaky chair. She had a firm grasp on her own bottle. “Time and a place,” she said, then took a swig of wine. “S’always the time and place,” Surprise fired back, stubbornly, setting the mostly-empty soup bowl down so she could wrap forelegs and wings around her mare. “You know best,” Berry absently replied, tipping the bottle side-to-side on the table. “You are Trixie’s First Mate. What do I know about the inner goings-on between you two? But if she does start whining, don’t blame me.” Surprise gave a haughty, dismissive flick of her wing. “This ship was more fun when I was captain. Just helping ponies. I could tinker around in the engine room as much as I wanted. No briefings and officers and strategic objectives.” Her lips curled into a self-satisfied little smile. “Certainly no ‘fraternizing’ rules! Being the captain was great.” “You were more enjoyable, I’ll give you that.” Berry brought the bottle to her mouth, but hesitated on taking in any drink. “Fun’s just not what we need right now, though. Sucks, I know, but… priorities.” Only after she had her say did she chug down anything. A bit of Surprise’s puffed-up pride seemed to escape her. She drooped in her position wrapped around Lyra. “Stop being right, Berry. It’s really discouraging.” Surprise gave a glum sigh. “Yeah, we needed her. S’a reason I gave her my Vainglorious.” She tapped a hoof against the floorboards to indicate the ship. “She actually hurts the baddies. And it isn’t all bad for us. We’re losing fewer ponies. And—” A bright white wing extended out again, trapping the neck of Berry’s bottle between two primaries. She pushed it back down toward the table. “—I noticed you’re going through a lot less wine these days.” Lyra shuffled around, turning as best she could in her wrapped-up position. She leaned against her lover and placed a hoof on her chest. “We still got us.” An all-too-blissful smile crept across Surprise’s muzzle. She leaned forward to place a kiss lightly against Lyra’s lips. “Mmmhmm. Best thing her Great and Grumpiness has ever done. She hired on the prettiest little unicorn in Equestria to be my marefriend.” “I’m here now. How it happened doesn’t matter,” Lyra smiled, sighing and nuzzling the crook of Surprise’s neck. “Though it is kind of funny, ‘cause I’d tell the story a little differently.” “That’s because Trixie thought she was hiring the only unicorn in Equestria willing to play glorified chimney sweep to keep Surprise’s… bizarre engine designs from choking on their own smoke,” the magician-turned-captain snapped, as she breezed casually into the room. It didn’t fool anypony who knew her well. Her head and tail were far too low, and her gait had little of its usual cocky swagger. She looked raggedly weary, with bags starting to develop under her eyes. Her voice carried a tone more cruelly mocking than just sarcastically nipping. “Instead she got an incredibly expensive bedwarmer for her First Mate. One too fragile to even really do that, most of the time.” “Every time. Every damn time,” Berry muttered under her breath while shaking her head. “After she pulls off some stunt she’s the Great and Naggy Nag of Nagsville.” She switched her tone to a saccharine-sweet one and greeted Trixie with a smile. “A bit tired, Captain?” “There’s really not much use trying to describe to an earth pony how trying it is to work feats of spellwork beyond pony imagination, or to bend reality to one’s mere whim. So spare Tri—Gak!” Trixie’s irate monologue was cut off into that strangled sound as she pitched back onto her rump in an exaggerated wince, her horn lighting to catch a green wine bottle that a white wing had flung at her face. “Maybe a drink or two will help take the edge off of you being—I mean, having—such a nasty headache,” Surprise suggested, innocently. “Nice throw. Better catch,” Berry pitched in. Lyra was otherwise occupied with the snuggling of her marefriend. Trixie stood with as much dignity as she could muster, brushed off her coat, and straightened her hat. She levitated the bottle to the end of the table, and sat herself down there. She seemed to be undecided on whether she wished to brush the whole thing off, or to enact the demise of everyone in the room. She compromised. “Back before I took command of this band of ne’er-do-wells, when I was on a proper ship, we’d have ponies flogged for insubordination. And shot for assaulting their commanding officer,” she groused. “Good thing we’re not a proper ship, then. We were just talking about that. ‘Bout how the good guys do a lot more cuddling,” Surprise ceased speaking for a moment to nuzzle Lyra’s ear, “and a lot less shooting their friends.” Trixie abandoned her image of dignity. Her nose dropped nearly to the surface of the table. A forearm rose to cover her eyes. “I’ll make exceptions. I can feel myself morally backsliding as we speak.” “Plus the fact that shooting your loyal—if misfit—bunch of crewmates wouldn’t be very good for you in the long run.” Berry wagged her bottle towards Trixie. “Earth pony practicality. Invest more in it.” “‘Course, there’s pegasus pragmatism too,” Surprise interjected. “Less crew means having to give out less pay. And hey, we could all just work harder to make up the difference, right?” Trixie groaned, looking back pleadingly at Octavia and Thunderlane as they entered the room, along with the troublesome white unicorn that had caused Trixie’s current headache. “If I ordered you both to, would you toss my mutinous senior staff, plus their pleasure slave, overboard?” “I didn’t even do anything!” Lyra protested. Such an outburst, however, did result in a small cough attack. Octavia stopped to consider for a moment, as if being asked about murder when walking into a room was entirely normal. “Possibly. Depending on what the mutiny was concerning.” “I’m not sure. Assuming you’d do the same if I disobeyed…” Thunderlane looked up at the ceiling, going silent for a bit. “Honestly? I don’t know. Er, Captain,” he hastily added. Trixie raised her other foreleg over her muzzle, settling her face right against one of the plates that her steward had so painstakingly set out. Her voice was somewhat muffled by it as she spoke. “Somepony go get Mac, and whatever twin isn’t minding the helm, and let’s just start this damnable meeting.” “On it!” the filly by her side chirped and snapped a less-than-perfect salute. She and Pinkie knocked hooves before she rushed out of the room. Pinkie, for her part, seemed content to watch the crew chatter. “My most loyal crew member is a ten-year-old.” Rather than seem depressed by the revelation, Trixie seem buoyed by it. “The fillies and colts always loved the Great and Powerful Trixie best.” =====☼===== “Equestrian myth says that Princess Celestia mysteriously departed from this land almost a thousand years ago, taking a fifth of ponykind with her.” Rarity stood at the head of the captain’s table. The senior officers of the ship sat along its sides; its captain sat opposite her. The fugitive noblemare didn’t seem at all fazed by the fact that these ponies would decide her fate. Perhaps it was just the bolstering effect of being the center of attention. “Of course, it’s understood today to be a parable about the dangers of disunity. That ‘Celestia’ was just an object lesson, to show our fall just before the final dissolution of the Three Kingdoms.” “Still, the popular telling of the story said that Celestia commissioned a fleet of great ships that—” Rarity paused, looking up above her head. Projected there were the crude, glowing outline of ancient wooden sailing ships, floating on lines of wave-shaped blue. The noblemare glared across the table at Trixie, who sat with her horn aglow. “Why are you doing that?” Trixie raised her chin off of the hoof it had been resting upon, with a look of abject boredom. “For one, because your presentation desperately needed some excitement. But more because Trixie had her mythology lessons as a foal. You’re here to explain why we shouldn’t just kick your Ladyship’s flank off into the middle of the wilderness and go on our merry way, not to recite old mare’s tales. Get on with it.” Rarity visibly bit back a snapping retort. She instead took a slow breath and nodded her head. “Very well. I was sent by Her Royal Highness Princess Celestia, The Eternal Sun, to keep an eye on Equestria on her behalf. While here, I discovered that the most dire threat Equestria has ever known has returned, and that the world hangs on the very precipice of doom.” Silence greeted Rarity’s pronouncement. She gave an ingenue bat of her eyelashes in Trixie’s direction. “Oh, I’m sorry, did you need more details? I was just ‘getting on with it’, as you put it.” “I like her,” Berry muttered under her breath, audible only for Trixie’s sake. “She’s like a fine wine: cultured, sharp, and incredibly beautiful.” She flashed Rarity a wink. Rarity stood a little bit taller. She flashed Berry a positively dazzling smile and a quick, coy wink. “Well, I’m increasingly liking it here myself. It seems there’s no shortage of mares of refinement and taste.” Trixie set her hooves back down against the deck, leaning back further onto the cushion she sat upon. Her frown was quickly eroding. “So, you’re what, exactly? A spy? Or a madmare. Either way, it’s far more interesting, at least.” Rarity lifted her muzzle, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling for a moment. “Spy is such a dirty word. Rather, I’m… an observer.” A purple-topped head turned, followed by orange hooves reaching up onto the table. “Uh, aren’t those two just the same kinda deal?” Scootaloo asked. Trixie shot the filly a sharp glare, making the girl wilt almost immediately. “Funny,” Trixie said, “I don’t recall giving you a commission, nor a place to speak at these briefings. Maybe it slipped Trixie’s mind.” The Captain turned her gaze back to the ‘observer’ at the other end of the table. “So, aren’t those two just the same ‘kinda deal’?” Trixie repeated, giving her deflated steward a sidelong smile. “From the mouths of foals and all that.” Rarity breathed an overwrought sigh and shrugged a shoulder. “A spy, then. There is truth in the ‘myth’ of Celestia’s departure. She took her ponies with her across the sea in a great exodus. And for their part, the Equestrians were happy to see them go. After all the strife at the opening of the new millenium, they wanted to take their own fate in hoof. The monarchists were not wanted in that new Equestria. Celestia would never defy the wishes of her own little ponies, but she never ceased thinking of us as that. Her children. And like any mother, she likes to make sure all is well with us, even those who turned her away.” Lyra rubbed her head, sniffing gooily. “Wait a sec… so I’m either having another dream, or you’re telling us that the whole legend-y thing is true? That there really is some kinda sun god?” Rarity shook her head quickly. A look that bordered on scandalized flickered across her expression before she clamped down on it. “No! No. Nothing like that. A god is some creature that is worshipped. Celestia would never allow such a thing. But an immortal who has taken the task of ancient Unicornia, in raising the sun and moon? Yes. She exists.” “Again… same kinda thing,” Scootaloo butted in. Trixie lit her horn. The outline of a pink arrow puffed into existence in front of Scootaloo’s muzzle, shaking threateningly in her direction. It might have earned a bit more intimidation value if Trixie’s horn didn’t flicker out almost immediately, dying with a sharp snap of unbound magic that made the Captain yelp. Rarity sighed, levitating a bottle of wine toward her horn. She touched the bottle with the tip of it, passing along a spell that caused frost to grow from the point of contact, surrounding it. She levitated the chilled bottle across the table to press it against the base of Trixie’s horn. “Captain, if you would kindly stop casting spells, before you seriously hurt yourself? Honestly, do they teach unicorns nothing about the dangers of over-channeling here?” Her gaze turned toward Scootaloo. “And yes, there’s a difference. A god is something above a normal pony. Celestia is simply… Celestia.” “Okay, if she does exist, then what does she want with Equestria? She never seemed like the war-mongering type in the stories,” Berry said, rubbing her chin as she gave Rarity an appraising look. Rarity’s ears folded back, and she took a half-step back. It was almost as if she had been struck. “W-war? Don’t even think such a thing! Celestia would sooner throw herself from her tower than countenance the killing of ponies.” “I guess you wouldn’t then…” Pinkie added, one ear folded and the other upright. She sat in the corner of the room, tinkering away with a screwdriver and oilrag at Gummy. The robotic reptile blinked. Rarity closed her eyes and turned her muzzle away from Pinkie Pie. She swallowed at a thick knot of emotion that seemed to be stuck in her throat. “No. I suppose not,” she finally managed. “And I don’t know how I could face her with my head held high, after discovering that.” Scootaloo, oblivious to the emotion and tension in the air, was transfixed on the alligator. “... cool!” She zoomed over, wings almost on fire. Pinkie seemed to desperately cling to the chance at a distraction, and the two quickly entered a quiet, shared conversation. Some of Rarity’s resolve returned, once Pinkie’s blue eyes were off her. Her voice had lost some of its sweeping, dramatic tonality. “I wasn’t sent here to cause trouble. Not to sabotage or steal. It was arranged for me to simply… live here, to keep a hoof on the pulse of the court. Things have been getting worse and worse. So, I took a risk. I stopped being the ‘observer’ and became the spy, to sate my own foolish curiosity.” “Subterfuge isn’t something for amateurs. If you mess it up, you end up having to be saved by a naked unicorn chimney sweep,” Trixie less-than-helpfully pointed out, ignoring Surprise’s scowl. “Still, any plan you can walk away from, etcetera, etcetera. Is this the point where we finally find out about the Lord Regent’s downfall and the world-shattering threats?” Rarity inclined her head in concession. She cast a levitation spell to withdraw a small scroll case from the folds of her gown. “Something—and I avoid using somepony for a reason—is giving the Lord Regent orders. Something long sleeping that they’ve woken up.” Berry glanced at everypony, then stared at Rarity and waved her hoof. “Care to be less vague?” There was the slightest hint of discomfort in Rarity’s expression, if only for a moment. “Mind, I’m working from a rather limited source of information. Correspondence from where they woke this… creature. How or why they did so, I’ve no idea. Why they are listening to this being, I am unsure, beyond suspicion and intuition.” Berry turned, facing the hulk of a stallion who somehow managed to remain completely inconspicuous in all this. “Big Mac, you got any idea what she’s talking about?” “Eenope.” “Thought so.” The mare went back to look at Rarity, eyebrow quirked. The aura around the scroll case Rarity levitated sparked and sizzled. Its colour faded from sky blue to rose pink. Despite a cry of protest from Rarity, it flew across the table to hover in front of Trixie. Its contents floated out, a sheaf of rolled paper that Trixie began to read through. Rarity’s horn brightened, but there wasn’t so much as an answering flicker in Trixie’s hold. She set the bottle she was levitating down and let her horn go dark with a sigh. “Yes, go ahead then, read it.” =====☼===== Trixie was quiet for a moment as she shuffled through the papers. She wasn’t unaware of Berry’s attempts to lean over and take a peek, but she didn’t begrudge it. Berry tended to stick her nose in things, and by and large that worked out for the best. A quartermaster who paid close attention was a valuable commodity. Besides, it would be too much effort to scold the earth pony, with Trixie’s head already pounding and her thoughts so easily drifting. It didn’t help that the text on those scrolls was so absurd. “Half of this is just brown-nosing. ‘Her Glorious Darkness’? Really?” Trixie said. Trixie could feel her expression clouding then, as she read further. Gone was any hint of playful surliness from her mood. Her gaze became steely. She’d practiced it in the mirror long enough to know. The room lapsed into silence as the mood spread to her crew. She set the papers down and stared across the table. Rarity appeared to keep her composure, at least on the surface, but her tail drooped slightly, and her ears twitched, threatening to flatten. A fire built from frustration and outrage was growing in Trixie’s chest the whole time. The signs were all there: an irritated ear flick, deep, heavy breathing through her muzzle, her hind hoof tapping on the floor erratically. All were attempts to release that heat, but it burned and bubbled like a boiler ready to burst from overpressure. And there was only one way to relieve it. A pink light snapped around Rarity. She found her hooves leaving the rich, mahogany floorboards in favor of empty air as she was all but flung against a far bulkhead. Her back slammed into it, nearly making the oil painting of a posing Trixie jump off the wall. The air rushed audibly from her lungs in a breathy cry. Trixie rose slowly from her cushion to make her way around the table with a daunting lack of haste. One of the first things she’d ever learned after she was conscripted was how to walk with proper menace, to tell ponies to stand aside. All of her crew kept their rumps right where they were. Even the normally fearless and imperturbable Big Mac simply following her with his eyes from the corner of the room despite the quiet look of disapproval on his face. The slowness of her pace was to her benefit, despite how it made her suffer under that look. Pain lanced so fiercely from her forehead that she could barely see. Her hooves threatened to slip under her as they grew increasingly numb, save for an irritating pins-and-needles tingle. The trapped noblemare didn’t stay idle. She brought her horn to life once more to try and push away the magic surrounding her. It was foal’s play for a unicorn to shake off another pony’s levitation spell from their own body. This time, it was like trying to push her magic through a wall of lead. Trixie’s horn sparked, and pain blossomed where it scalded her, but she kept her aura clamped down, feeding enough power into it to suffocate the feeble resistance. The glow around the other mare deepened to match to the intensity. The wall creaked behind her under the pressure of her body against it. Trixie couldn’t care less. It would have felt beautifully satisfying to push the damned madmare right through the wall, the consequences to Trixie’s pantry be damned. But they had unfinished business first. “You made us cut our mission short,” Trixie said, darkly, her voice like a steel knife: cold, cutting and deadly. Her eyes, however, spoke of a barely contained fury. She stepped in front of the pinned mare, using her magic to pull her head down, so she was forced to meet the Captain’s vengeful gaze. “You endangered my crew, one member of which is lying in the sick bay with a bullet in her throat. And you did it for that?” she bellowed, pointing a hoof toward the papers she’d read through. Trixie’s magic reached back to sweep Rarity’s documents from the table. The effect was suitably disdainful. It was only a small satisfaction. “For a foal’s tale? Nightmare bucking Moon? Did you need us to deliver a hold full of feathering candy to keep her passive?” Trixie hissed. “Bloody hells Trixie, put the poor mare down,” Berry said, her tone strong, but not scolding. The Captain saw her giving Surprise a quick squeeze on the shoulder as she passed on her way around the table. Rarity’s voice was a wheeze, at best, when she spoke. The pressure forced against her chest and throat allowed no more. That did more to give Trixie solace than the papers; Cloud Kicker wouldn’t be speaking easily either, so the justice of it was sweet. “Not… a story.” Trixie ignored her quartermaster, still glaring dangerously up at the immobilized unicorn. “So says the madmare who believes in gods and boogeymares. You got ponies killed. Ponies under Trixie’s charge. By rights, you should be tossed overboard. Thank your sun goddess for Trixie’s mercy. She’s going to land the ship first.” “Trixie,” Berry almost spat. “See, this is exactly what Surprise was talking about. Sure, we’re the ‘good guys’, but this?” She approached Rarity, her steps slow and careful. Very tentatively, she reached out towards her neck, almost shivering as she felt the hum of magic. “Threatening ponies like this sounds like something the Regent’s goons would do, not us. For Celestia’s—sorry, I guess I should say your sake—does she look crazy to you? We should at least hear her out before deciding what to do with her.” The sorceress glanced back at Berry from the corner of her eye. “Threatening ponies who try to get her mares killed is something the Captain of a bucking warship would do. When the ship follows the whims of its quartermaster and bookkeeper, then it’s a trading scow. So stow it.” Berry took a deep breath, exhaling through her nostrils. “Cut the tough mare act. We both know that in your state, I could take you out in one kick. Not that I would though because…” The mare rubbed a hoof over her chest, her wounds now clotted. “I know you care, otherwise you wouldn’t be flipping out in the first place. But this is the wrong way to do it. I thought you knew that.” After a short pause, she added quietly, “Once a Regent’s lapdog, always o—” Rarity dropped from the bulkhead as Trixie released her magic, bouncing off a bolted-down table and sending a sterling tea set resting there crashing to the deck. Trixie spun around to face off against her treasonous quartermaster. Her horn spilled energy in a tide of arcing static. All of her emotion seemed to pour into it, escaping as violent magic and an inarticulate cry. The expensive wooden floor cracked and smoked at Berry’s hooves. “Get. Out,” Trixie growled through gritted teeth, once some of that fury was spent. She could feel herself shaking with emotion: rage, betrayal, and a shame that refused to lay down and submit. Pinkie wrapped a foreleg around Scootaloo, the filly positively shaking. Her eyes wandered over to Rarity, who everypony else seemed to be ignoring. After her neck had gone back and forth like a yo-yo, she shuffled over to Rarity’s side. Slowly, but not very surely, her hoof found its way onto Rarity’s foreleg. Surprise fluttered into view between the raging magician and her quartermaster. She landed carefully, making sure not to put her hooves down where the wood was smoldering. “Berry, shut up.” Surprise turned more fully to face Trixie. She took a step forward. “Cap’n, take a breath now, okay? Maybe two. You’re right. If we’re being played, or tricked, or trapped, then we’ll have to take steps, y’know? But c’mon, all this isn’t you. It’s the magic starvation messing with your head. The Trixie we love makes big plans and sets ‘em off with style, right? That’s certainly what you did when you caught the beautiful and dastardly Captain Surprise. Screaming and brute force isn’t that.” There was a pregnant pause in the room. Trixie squashed down the urge to lash out further, consequences be damned. The magic inside of her, so depleted and meager now, still wanted to be spent. It wanted to answer her anger and it pushed to get out. Trixie forced that aside and took a breath. The Great and Powerful Trixie was above it all, and Captain Trixie was even more so. That was the image she was supposed to project. It was her. That was all the sign that Surprise needed, apparently. She darted forward and wrapped her wings and a hoof around the sorceress’s neck. She was soft, warm, and smelled of a comforting mix of cooked vegetables, her unicorn’s perfume, and a tiny hint of engine oil. Trixie felt the bump of a muzzletip against her cheek. “You’re such a featherbrain, Captain,” Surprise whispered fondly to the still-shaking mare. “Just because a big spell like that doesn’t lay you up in your bunk for a week, it doesn’t mean you’re in the proper shape for all this.” Trixie’s response to the embrace was exactly what it always was: a great deal of uncomfortable squirming and trying to find a place to wedge a hoof against the clingy pegasus, to pry her loose. “The ship needs its captain,” the unicorn protested. “Now let go.” Berry stared at the smoke coming from the burnt floorboards just beneath her. “I-I’m gonna go have a drink,” she said, her voice just barely faltering as she made her way out. The pegasus looked back toward Berry as she left, dismay colouring her expression. The mental calculation that followed was almost visible on her features. In the end, she remained attached to the struggling captain. “The ship needs a clear-thinking captain. I promise we won’t crash her into a mountain before morning,” Surprise retorted, between the occasional grunt from jabbing hooves or tugging magic. She remained firmly latched on. “Go get some sleep. We can find out what sorts of costumes and candy we’ll need to sort out the crazy unicorn lady’s Nightmare Night problems, later. It’ll give me some time to sketch out a cat costume for Lyra, too.” “Uh… meow?” Lyra purred lamely. Surprise looked back over her shoulder at her marefriend, incredulously. “Okay. Yeah. We’ll have to work on that, too.” The pegasus’s turned cheek made an excellent point of purchase for a blue hoof. It mashed against her cheek until Surprise was forced to let go of her captive superior officer. She took back to the air, sticking her tongue out at the unicorn. It somewhat degraded the serious, scolding look she put on afterward, as she pointed to a hatch at the far side of the cabin. “Now, bed. I’ll get our guests and their alligators tucked in until our captain is back on her hooves, okay?” Trixie folded back her ears. It was bad enough having Berry trying to defy her: having Surprise talk down to her wasn’t helping, especially not in front of her crew. Still, she couldn’t allow herself to get angry again, not with her reputation at stake. She glanced back toward Rarity behind her, who seemed to be wrapped up to some degree by the new tinkermare. She didn’t say a word, however, simply nodding to her first mate and heading off in the direction of her room, her head raised in a put-on show of untouched imperiousness that wouldn’t have fooled a soul. Trixie was certain her utter humiliation was clinging to her like a visible fog at that point, impossible to miss. Big Mac made no comment, as usual, loyally escorting his captain to her quarters. Surprise flitted her way toward the huddling mares. “Don’t worry, okay? We’re not bad ponies. It’s just… this has been a weird, bad sort of day. It’ll get a lot more normal from here on.” =====☼===== ‘Normal’, in fact, did not return after the tense meeting was over. But when you’re on an airship far away from home with a mare that looked really super like you, normal kinda got tossed out of the window to fall on somepony’s head who probably deserved it more; Pinkie never needed it in the first place. Octavia (must have been Octy for short) showed Rarity and Pinkie to their room. Octy was a good choice, considering she looked nice—Rarity wouldn’t stop peeking at her and pretending like she wasn’t—and had good manners. She left them alone once they got there, instead of hanging around like a potted plant. The room was… cozy. Comfortably cozy. Comfortably cushty cozy. Comfortably cushty, cozy and considerably close. Pinkie had bigger closets. Not that she wanted to think about the ‘had’ part all too much. There was a bed, plain but nice. Pinkie would’ve preferred hammocks to swing about in, but she could jump on beds, so the trade-off was equal. The only kinda big problem was the fact that there was only one. She didn’t really know if she wanted to be comfortably cozy, cushty, close, and cuddly right then. “Sit,” Pinkie ordered, pointing at the C.C.C. bed. Rarity did as asked without question; a raised eyebrow was definitely not a question. The toymaker plonked herself down in front of Rarity and started inspecting and lightly prodding her neck. Even though Pinkie’d had time to wash the bad hoofsie, Rarity’s eyes still followed it. She did a bit of jumping and squirming when being poked, too. Rarity shook herself out of her guilty staring. “Really, Pinkie. I’m quite all right. I shan’t fall apart over a few bruises from an overblown, narcissistic brute.” Rarity looked over her shoulder at her fancy dress, which was all ripped and torn along her back. Her already shaky smile went downy and frowny. “That’s more than I can say about this dress.” “Dresses can be replaced. Ponies can’t,” Pinkie said, briefly looking into Rarity’s eyes for a moment, then looking back at the mare’s neck. Pinkie might as well have popped the purple-maned pony with a pin. She practically deflated where she sat. “I would have thought it would get easier to hear that over time. It doesn’t.” Rarity frowned even deeper. “I suppose there’s no use in apologizing further. It won’t bring them back. Nor will it make it any less a crime to make a pony like you witness it.” “Hm…” Pinkie got up and started musing to herself. Walking around in a circle over and over again often helped speed up the thinking process. In that room there was only enough room to do sort of a squished line. Or maybe a messy ‘L’ shape if she kinda hooked around the bed just right. Just starboard? Ships were hard. “Let’s play a game,” she said, stopping in place. “I ask you a question that you gotta answer honestly and truthfully, then you do the same for me.” Rarity’s nose got all scrunchy, but her frown kinda turned up a little bit on the port side. “When grown mares play these sorts of games, darling, there usually ends up being clothing upon the floor and promises never to speak of things again.” Pinkie jabbed a hoof toward Rarity. Gummy was clinging on the end, so she had to shake him off first. He gummed onto the end of the bed’s threadbare covers and hung there, swinging. It was always nice when everypony and everyalligator found ways to have fun. “So you’re not going to tell the truth, then?” Rarity dipped her muzzle down. “I will, of course. Where I’m from, honesty is one of the pillars of our society.” “I guess it’s a pretty shaky one.” Pinkie stopped, then sighed angrily, bonking herself on the head. “Sorry. But I’m all mixed-up like a test tube full of… mixed-up bubbly stuff. I’m real mad at you, but I’m also kinda sad, and now—” She pointed at the still-raw markings on Rarity’s neck. “—I just feel bad.” Like Pinkie trying to resist the temptation to poke at a delicious-looking cake in the oven, Rarity reached out with a hoof, as if to hug her. She drew it back before she even got halfway there. “No. You’re not wrong, Pinkie. Yet, as that darling filly pointed out, I am a spy. It’s a trade that lends itself to deception. But, I promise that I won’t lie to you now, if you ask your question.” “Okey dokey,” Pinkie said, purposely omitting the ‘lokey’ because the ‘lokey’ was generally used for good situations. “Do you enjoy kil—” The mere mention of the word was enough to make Pinkie retch. “—Making ponies pass?” Rarity’s hoof reached out again, and actually touched her this time, all lightly, under her chin. Her look was a more than a little sad. “Dearest Pinkie, you’re a perceptive, sensitive filly. One very intent on the happiness of other ponies, I’ve noticed. You don’t really need me to answer that, do you? Did I seem happy to be killing those ponies?” “Well, no,” Pinkie faltered, but absorbed some more resolve the next second. “But you’re a spy, and they’re super-great at acting. Plus, it’s against the rules to answer a question with more questions. It’s like wishing for more wishes.” “If I’m such a peerless actress, could you trust me to answer now? But I suppose that’s a question.” Rarity’s voice was flat, or tired. She shook her head and brought her muzzle up to look into Pinkie’s eyes. “Killing those two ponies was the most vile and most wretched thing I’ve ever done. I did it knowing fully that it could never be forgiven, and that it could never be taken back.” Pinkie started to open her mouth to speak, but Rarity cut her off. “And in the interest of full honesty, I need say this: I would still kill them, if forced into the same situation again.” The toymaker’s ears flattened against her head, her eyebrows furrowing, then raising as deep, troubled lines appeared on her forehead. “... Why?” Rarity’s ears seemed to follow suit, pinning back to an almost painful-looking degree. “Necessity. Pragmatism. All those horrid little reasons that boil down to it being for the greater good. I would kill them because not doing so would make it far too likely that nopony could be warned about what I found.” Again, the unicorn continued on, turning her head away to look at one of the walls. It didn’t seem very interesting, but she seemed intent on it. “What I would change is… you. I would have sent you away. I wouldn’t have made you see… that. I would have let you try to get back to your beautiful life.” Pinkie certainly didn’t see what was so interesting about the wall, but staring at it allowed her to think. She made a thoughtful noise. Then another. And one more which she drew out. “Final question.” She patted Rarity’s cheek so the mare would face her. “Why did you lie to me?” “Have I?” Rarity asked. “Lied to you, that is? Lies of omission, perhaps. Because it would have done no good to put you in danger. I was always what I seemed to be, dear. It’s just that there was a little more you hadn’t discovered yet.” Pinkie thought over it some more, staring into Rarity’s eyes. To Rarity, it felt like she was literally looking into her, seeing her soul, what her qualities were, her entire essence. “All right…” she finally said, stepping back. “But I can’t just switch gears and be like I was before. No, that’s silly, and switching gears is unhealthy for machines anyways. Besides, too much’s changed.” Sighing quietly, she sat her rump down on the floor. “Your turn, if you wanna.” There was nothing for Rarity to do but nod her head. She didn’t take long to think of her question. It was a bit of a doozy though. “What do you think of me? Now, after everything?” “Oooo, why’d you have to ask such a toughie?!” Pinkie laid down on the floor, rubbing her head and tapping her hindhoof. “You’re still really pretty. And you don’t seem like a bad guy. I felt really worried after that craziness at the meeting, so I still care, but…” Pinkie bit her lip, stealing a quick glance at her formerly-bloodied hoof. “A part of me’s a little scared, I think. It’s just… you could do that to anypony…” Rarity gave a quick shake of her head. “No, Pinkie. Don’t even think that. Not anypony. And never casually, never causelessly. It’s the one thing I have to cling to: that what I did, I did to save the lives of innocent ponies.” Pinkie simply nodded, her mane bobbing up and down. Her eyelids were starting to feel heavy, and were opening and closing like they were yo-yos. It had been a mega-long day, and what she really wanted right now was to sleep and dream; Candy County was always a brilliant place to visit. She curled up on the floor, wrapping her tail around her as best as she could. “Tired. Gonna have some sleepy times…” Pinkie started to glow, which was nice, if not exactly normal. She felt herself get really light. She didn’t exactly feel a real push, but she floated up off the ground, drifted around Rarity, and was set down gently on the less-than-bouncy bed. “You can have the bed, darling. I shall… rough it.” Those last two words sounded all squeaky and whimpery. She looked at the floor sort of like you’d look at a big, scary spider that just crawled up onto the end of your muzzle. She still slid her forehooves down onto it. The bed was rightfully deserving of its C.C.C. title, even if it wasn’t very springy. Pinkie stretched her limbs, then curled up again into an itty-bitty-twinkie-Pinkie ball. “Okay… just for tonight,” she said, yawning afterward. There was a whole lot of whispery grumbling and magical dusting before Rarity found herself a little corner of the room, wedged in between the bed—the bunk!—and the wall—the bulkhead! All the rustling and almost-swearing made it more than a little hard to sleep. She eventually quieted after having half-propped herself against the wall, dragging all her ruffly skirts in around her and cuddling up with them as best she could. Pinkie was so tired, she couldn’t even be bothered to slip under the covers. But a pony laying there looking so unhappy was like an ache at the back of her brain that wouldn’t let her rest. A bit of squirming and wiggling had the covers in her mouth, instead of under her. It wasn’t like she needed ‘em, but somepony else did. She gave a little toss of her head, throwing them over Rarity, more or less. “S’only fair, after a real scary day...” she sleepily mumbled, as she let her head sink back down to the pillows. Before her eyes closed, she saw a bit of magic tugging the covers back down where they’d sort of bunched up over Rarity’s head. “Thank you, Pinkie.” She didn’t get to see the smile, but it was there in her voice, at least a little, as Pinkie drifted off to sleep.