Ebon Mane stepped out of the stairwell leading from the lower decks of the Noble Jury. As soon as he emerged, a hissing noise sent his ears twitching.
He glanced across his half of the deck and noticed Roarke situated towards the railing, pivoting her limbs back and forth. A newly-arranged series of metal braces framed her body from head to hooves to flank. Operating by a complex array of pistons and hydraulic motors, the skeletonous suit attached to at least half of the metal plugs embedded into her light brown flesh.
The Searonese mare’s face was locked in concentration. Sweat ran down from her brow and coated the edges of her copper eye-lenses. With liquid motions, she pivoted her right forelimb and extended a series of metal claws that were rigged to the metal shell. Cl-clack!
“Whew!” Ebon whistled, smiling as he trotted closer to her. “Fancy stuff, Roarke! Did you build that over the last week--”
“Back off,” she grunted, swaying left and right as the motors of her “suit” hissed and whirred. “This is my first time doing a full systems check. Believe it or not, I am not wanting to kill anypony with this.”
“Uhhh… Right…” Ebon nodded, glancing at the mare cautiously from afar. “Just how deadly is that thing?”
“To others, I’m hoping lethal as a basket of cobras,” Roarke muttered. “To myself…” She sighed. “This thing could crush me any second.”
“Really?”
“Assuming I made some fatal flaw in the design.”
“Well, highly unlikely!” Ebon chuckled a nervous chuckle. “I mean, you are the most clever of us all! So what are the odds that you’d screw such a highly complicated thing up?”
“Meh.”
Ebon shifted where he stood. “Do you… uhm… do you really think we need you gearing up with all manner of destructive weaponry so soon?”
Roarke pivoted about, limbs locking with a metallic rattle. “What do you mean?” Her lenses pistoned outward inquisitively.
“I mean, we seem to be safe now. And with the cease-fire and all, I doubt we’ll be having to worry much from the Xonans.” Ebon smiled. “All that waits for us is mountains and ice water, right? I mean, that’s what Collins said, according to Rainbow Dash.”
“There’s no telling what we will find beyond Lerris,” Roarke grumbled, giving the machine limbs yet another pivot. “If I’m to be of any use to the Jury, then it will have to be armed.”
“But we’re far away from Blue Nova and all of the major battlefields of Ledomare!” Ebon leaned forward, blinking. “Who do we gotta worry about bumping heads with?”
Roarke’s jaw tightened and untightened. “There’s no sense in worrying so long as one is prepared.”
“Roarke. Is there something you know that we don’t?”
“That’s a good question.” Roarke spoke without looking. “Is there, Ebon?”
The stallion’s face scrunched up. “Huh…?”
A sigh lit the air. “I’m not going to make any progress here.” Roarke stepped down the stairwell and made for the open hangar. “I’d better test this suit in the open field where I won’t damage anything.”
Ebon watched after her, blinking. He hung his head and trotted lonesomely towards the bow.
Everyone on board is just so… anxious as of late. Paranoia’s a natural emotion when you’re on the run from battleships full of ignorant ponies trying to kill you. On both sides, even. But now? In this valley? With this sudden and undeniable time of peace?
I don’t think anypony on board this ship knows how to relax. Rainbow Dash is the best example of this, and her nervous demeanor has sent ripples throughout the rest of the crew. I mean, it’s nice to know that she remains forever vigilant for the rest of us, but there are times when I seriously worry for her psychological well-being. It seems as if she takes on too much at times. And for what? So that the rest of us don’t have to suffer? We’ve all been through the same thick and thin. Surely she can depend on us just as much as we depend on her?
While Rainbow may be always thinking about us, I can’t help but feel that most of the Jurors are drifting apart. Floydien’s always kept to his lonesome, which isn’t odd. But Roarke seems to be… extra Roarkish as of late. Eagle Eye is a great deal quieter and more contemplative. Josho seems constantly preoccupied and moody. Even Propsy--bless her heart--is obsessing herself with one engineering project after another, and it feels like the mare I once knew is floating further and further away, until she’s become one with the engine room of this ship--or the “womb of Nancy Jane,” as she and the elk have come to call it.
Honestly, only Zaid seems to be taking everything in stride. But that’s just his way. He’s a water-off-the-back kind of a stallion, even more so than myself. That’s probably because he’s new to this ship. He doesn’t know all that the Jury’s been through, or what’s at stake with every trip, rest stop, and decision that we make.
I wouldn’t blame Kera for wanting to stay in Lerris. With the way things seem to be going… well… let’s just say I’ve been investing a great deal more attention into my cooking as of late, mother.