//------------------------------// // The Moose and Elk Wagon Show // Story: Yaerfaerda // by Imploding Colon //------------------------------// “Okay... okaaaaaaaaay...” Props twisted and turned a series of valves, her goggled eyes reflecting a lavender pulse from the center of the engine room. “Loooooking gooood...” She blinked, then glanced across the compartment. “How are you doing on your end?!” “Everything's stable!” Booster Spice said from the instrument panel he was clinging to. “It's now or never!” “Ya hear that, Zaidy Waidy?!” Props hollered over the intercom. “Give it a go!” Something cranked through the metal bulkheads. The entire ship shook and vibrated while the whole room flooded with lavender light. Inside the iron cage, the book levitated, brimming with energy. Within seconds, it maintained a steady pulse, and the instrument panels hummed vibrantly. “That sounds good...” Booster grinned. “That sounds really really good!” “Zaid? How 'bout it? Are we up-up-and-awaying?!” “Girl...” Zaid smirked, his hooves on the Jury's controls as he lifted the vessel above the trees west of Bountiful. “...you don't know the half of it! Never knew I missed the sky until I could see it with my hot, handsome eyes.” “Remember, you're just Diet Handsome until we get the ship's pilot back!” “Jee...” Zaid rolled his eyes and smiled. “Thanks for the confidence.” “Heeheehee!” “Is the book doing its glowy thingy?” “Yup yup! Dashie's last zap did the trick! We should have a week's juice in us, so long as we don't overload the steam array!” “You mean like 'Handsome' did when we first arrived in his home town?” “Errr... yeah...” “Don't worry. I doubt we'll be running into the Headquarters of the Herald anytime soon,” Zaid said. A blink. “Though I wouldn't mind being the Duke of Cheese.” Roarke trotted inside the cockpit from the Jury's top deck. “What's the status report?” “We're birds again!” Zaid smiled. “Pony birds!” “I can see that. But is it stable?” “Blondie says that Rainbow's pendant has given us enough juice to last a week, assuming things don't go wrong.” “And they always do,” Roarke droned. “So let's not pretend to hope.” “Awwwwww...” Zaid pouted. “It's too early in the day for you to be harshing my buzz.” Bellesmith climbed up from the lower decks of the ship. “Is it working?” “It would seem that way,” Roarke said with a nod. “We're no longer grounded, thanks to Rainbow's energy and Props' engineering.” “So, girls...” Zaid glanced over his shoulder. “Where to?” “Are you certain you have a firm grasp over the piloting controls of the Jury?” “Pfft. Not like I'm flying an elephant here.” “Where should we take her?” Belle remarked. “Where else?” Roarke trotted forward and looked over Zaid's shoulder, squinting out the windshield. “Rainbow felt it was best that we check on the border between the Cartel and Val Roa.” “You mean down south?” Belle blinked. “Where Constable Jake was patrolling? “Indeed.” Roarke nodded. “And if that's what Rainbow thinks we should do...” “Setting coordinates!” Zaid grinned, pushing the throttle and turning several nods. “I always liked going south! It sorta feels like flying downhill.” Belle raised an eyebrow. “Really?” “Nah. Just seeing how many stupid things I could say before one of you girls hit me.” Roarke hit him. “... ... ...ow?” Belle giggled. Roarke's muzzle curved slightly. “Half speed, Zaid. There's no telling at what time Rainbow might call for us via Props' communications array. We need to be ready to fly north at a moment's notice.” “Aye, ma'am sir... sir ma'am...” “I'll go inform the others,” Belle said, scurrying down the ladder. “Might as well.” Roarke took a deep breath. “Without Rainbow Dash, this is... going to be a long flight...” Forests gave way to rolling emerald plains and lush hilltops. Tall grass swayed on either side of the dirt path, occasionally dotted with trees and thickets. Rivers trickled into lakes at a distance, adding to the glitteringly gorgeous landscape. To the east, hovering like a second horizon, a brown haze of mountains loomed. They parted down the middle—right where the long, long road was leading. Floydien narrowed his eyes, as if—by squinting—he might somehow be capable of making out the details of Val Roa's West Gate. Alas, there was nothing more to see but the constant line of fine gravel and brown powder that made up the largely abandoned highway beneath him. With a sigh, he continued trudging along, pulling the weight of the double-wagons behind him. His gaze fell to the earth with a dull expression. At last, the booming voice behind him uttered: “So... why 'Nancy Jane?'” Floydien grumbled. He tilted his head up. “What does the boomer spit?” The moose beside him squinted. “This boomer... wants to know what in God's tacky saddle got you to use the name 'Nancy Jane?'” “Hrmmfff... Nancy is Floydien's beloved,” the elk muttered. “Nancy provides for Floydien and Floydien provides for Nancy. Floydien's boomers as well. Yes yes yessss. We are all glimmer touch in Nancy's womb.” “That's not the way I heard it!” Jake's slimy nostrils flared as he effortlessly dragged the wagon up a hill, forcing Floydien to fumble and keep up. “I heard that you had gotten soooooo deep in the sack with the General's adopted daughter that you suddenly realized you had to cover your ass! So, when y'all started writing letters to one another, you chose the most bland, boring, unassuming name possible to mask hers!” He cackled loudly. “Porcupines, Floyd Boy! I always knew you were a stupid Duke, but no wonder the jerkwads of the High Council found a way to chase you out of Bountiful!” “Floydien...” The elk growled long and hard. “...does not remember any of that spit.” “Oh yeah?!” Jake tilted his head aside, almost smacking Floydien up the head with an antler. “Then why are you bothering to be here in the first place?” “Because paint bucket boomer and her boomer friends want to make peace peace with the stabby stabs...” Floydien's jaw clenched and unclenched. “And if that means less boomers sucking on the glimmer shimmer, and Floydien is willing to lend hooves and spark spark.” “And you're certain it has absolutely nothing to do with taking the opportunity to redeem yourself for being a yellow-bellied bastard and ditching everyone who's ever believed in you between Val Roa Proper and Bountiful?” “For the last time, Floydien does not remember!” The wagon jostled behind him. “Get off Floydien's flank flank! Floydien doesn't even want to be here and yet he is.” He kicked at the earth as he dragged the vehicles along. “Floydien gave up his Nancy Jane and skystone glimmer to be here... to do the anti-stabby thing...” Silence. “You know, I met her once,” Jake mused. “Hrmmff... who?” “Midnite Bastion.” Jake winced. “Honestly, I always figured you could do better. The pony's a freakin' firecracker, for sure, but she's still got that crazy sense of entitlement crap in her head—what... with being Saikano's protege and all. Funny how the girls who are least likely to be princesses act like they totally are...” “Does the hairy boomer have a point?” “Let me finish.” Jake squinted. “Midnite was every bit a selfish, manipulative, dominating freakazoid. If she loved you, it's only because a part of her was desperate to stop pissing on everyone who ranked beneath her and instead nuzzle a noble soul for once. And you know what? If that floats y'all's boat, then that's all fine and dandy. Sounds like you burrowed your way through all of her lady gunk and found something worth cherishing, so maybe you're not half the coward I tought you were. Maybe.” “Rnnnghhhh...” Floydien rolled his eyes. “I'd give my left testicle to know what it was that finally spooked you into ditching all of us,” the moose said. “But what tickles me funny is that you don't remember Midnite... but you do remember 'Nancy Jane.'” Floydien said nothing. “No matter what your Sis thinks, you've changed, pal.” Jake clenched his jaw, staring thinly at the elk. “Somewhere between all the poking and prodding, you squirted out the other side as a different turd. So, I can't help but wonder... what are you really trotting along this journey for?” Floydien looked at him. Jake looked back. “You have your 'Nancy Jane.' You have your 'glimmer shimmer.' So... kitten huffers, what's really tugging you along with us?! Huh?! Is it to see Midnite Bastion? Cuz, if that's so, I'm liable to kick your nuts up your throat and leave you hanging off the next tree we find, because that is not what this mission is about, brospunk.” Floydien took a deep breath. At last, he said, “Hairy boomer calls Floydien a turd?” “The turdiest of them all.” Floydien nodded. “And every turd stands to be buried.” He looked forward, glaring into the mountains at a distance. “Floydien has much to bury here. Nancy Jane cannot help with that.” Jake blinked at him. Slowly, he smiled, then looked ahead. “Yeah, well, when the time comes... I'll gladly provide the shovel.” “Yes yes yessss.”