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T H E C O N V E R S I O N B U R E A U :
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CROSS THE AMAZON

By Chatoyance

Dropspindle had figured out a way to deal with human technology. They had to wait, Calloway said, because the dust was dangerous, and other reasons that he didn't go into - but that was all right, she trusted him. Calloway would get them to safety. He was a good human, and he would make a better pony.

The romball player made movies appear on one of the walls of the room. The wall was a holoscreen that, when things were running, looked like a window into another time and place. Human movies were very amazing. They were in color, for one thing, and for another they were 'three-dee', they had depth, just like life.

Dropspindle split her hornfield between two neoplastic 'forks'; the strange little scoops-with-tongs that humans used to shovel food into their flat faces. Because they couldn't just muzzle down and chow, they had to use their hands to balance small bits of food on the forks - and frankly, it was amazing that they didn't just get their dinner all over themselves.

She held the forks by their long parts, avoiding getting anywhere near the 'tines', the little poky bits at the end that capped the scoopy part. This let her hold electronic things without her thaumatic field burning them out. The romballs were almost safe - they were basically a small crystalline sphere held in a neoplastic cubical box. The cube that held the romball was only about a half-a-hoof wide at most. The transparent crystal sphere had 'data' stored inside it in three dimensions. Little bubbles and lack-of-bubbles that somehow translated into pictures and sound. Because the information was stored throughout the little sphere, the ball spun inside the box. The box had tiny air channels that the romball reader puffed into, and that spun the crystal sphere so that lasers could read it from all directions at once.

Dropspindle lifted the romball cartridge up with the two forks. She did this, because although the cartridge was just plastic, ball and box, it had an electronic 'chip' under the title that described it that permitted the ball to be read. It existed to prevent people from sharing. It struck Dropspindle as both hilarious and sad that even within a universe of scarcity and constant want, humans went out of their way to make things that could be shared, unsharable. Calloway had just said that 'Money was god' and walked out of the room.

The romball cartridge was for a human entertainment called 'Milky Way and the Galaxy Girls'. It was a 'cartoon'. Dropspindle liked cartoons, because they were not usually violent and filled with horrible things. Some woman named 'Faust' had created the long-running cartoon. According to the hypernet feed (Dropspindle levitated four pens and used them like human fingers to work the keyboard to avoid frying it), she had been offered a chance to do a cartoon about ponies, but had turned it down. That was what had interested Dropspindle - ponies. But Faust had found a way to do her Galaxy Girls show instead, and had. But a woman who would have done a cartoon about ponies - that was interesting!

The romball cartridge - originally a blank; Dropspindle had 'downloaded' the series onto it through the human keyboard machine thing - was taken into the romball player. The little translucent cube with the crystal sphere vanished into the machine. Dropspindle put down her forks and lifted a pen in her field. Now she could press the player buttons with the pen and not destroy any electronics and thus watch the show.

Watching cartoons was a way to pass the time. It was difficult, waiting. Waiting for the dust to thin or settle or go away. Waiting for Calloway to say 'Let's go!' with whatever plan he was coming up with to save them both. But he would. She had learned to trust him.

Kotani had entered the room. He had his hands in the pockets of the clean red-level jumpsuit he had been wearing. Normally, he said, he wore purple-level suits. That was the highest level. Red was the bottom. Red jumpsuits were for all the workers who did things humans looked down on. But there had been many such jumpsuits in the plant, and they were all clean, so Calloway had worn them even though they were not his rank.

"Calloway - would you like to watch this show with me? It's a cartoon about... girls... in something called a 'galaxy'. I have no idea what it is about but it looks cute and it's from a woman who almost did..."

"No. It's fine. You watch your show." He really was down. Maybe he would cheer up if he heard about the lightning.

"I saw lightning! No pegasai, though. How does that even work? How can you have lightning without pegasai to jump on the clouds?"

"I did! Outside, earlier. In the sky. The dust is a lot less now... does that mean it's finally time to go? Equestria will be here in only a day and..."

"What the..." Calloway hadn't gone to the observation tower, he hadn't done much of anything but wander the lower levels. "Show me!"

Dropspindle took Calloway to the stairs that led up to the observation tower. It was the best view. From the windows up there, it would have been possible to see the entire petroleum plant, every bit of it, save for the shrouding dust. They tromped up the metal staircase, entered the observation deck, and moved to one of the huge windows.

Calloway seemed startled by how clear the view had become. The breeze that had started was pushing the dust away. Dropspindle had figured that this was what Calloway was waiting around for.

"Yes - the dust has really cleared up because of the wind. Oh! See?" Dropspindle pointed a hoof in the direction of the flash. The bolts were visible through the remaining dust. They were dimmed but clearly lightning.

"It's a storm! Oh Jesus... how in..." He seemed actually frightened. "Of course... it's damp. This hasn't been a dry heat, it's been moist, the ground must have water deep down, that's why... the dampness is the water evaporating through the soil... and that means... with the dust..."

"What is it Calloway?" Dropspindle found earth weather utterly incomprehensible. It was like how the Everfree was described. Things just happened without any pony to make them happen. It was very creepy.

"Desert storms! Deluges!" Calloway stared, wild-eyed, as if somehow his words answered anything. "Rain!"

"How wonderful!" Dropspindle smiled. "It's so very dry and hot here. The flowers will love it... if there were any flowers."

"Not wonderful. Horrible! Flash floods, Dropspindle! Water like you can't believe. Water enough to tear through parts of this plant. Wash away the lines that supply our power - hell, wash away that field of solar panels too! You have no idea - this is a disaster!" Calloway was frightened.

Calloway stared. After a moment his face softened. "I wish, Dropspindle. I wish."

The deluge was in progress. The scale of it had surprised even Calloway. Outside the tower windows, the world was a single, vast, raging river. The two had watched their jitney swept up and away, then smashed through the walls of the shower and crew quarters. Then the walls themselves had crumbled as the unbelievable flood ate away at them with incomprehensible force.

"I'm sorry. I'm... just so sorry. I didn't even think..." Calloway was not himself anymore. He just kept apologizing for things he had no control over.

"That round thing - that, there." Dropspindle pointed. "The thing that looks like an egg. No... it's long. Like a... long, pale maple bar. Or a smooth, polished baguette. See?"

It was a whitish, very rounded shape. Longer than wide, roughly rectangular, and huge. Moving with the current, it looked like a well-used soap bar in a bathtub. It was as large as several buildings. It moved slowly, partly trapped by the gigantic petrol tanks. It had a diagonal stripe running across it, and numbers and letters printed upon it. There was a small hatch on top, and small windows in the front.

"It's a lifting-body. An airship. It looks like a private executive runabout." Calloway watched the hard-bodied techno-blimp become stuck between three large holding tanks and a tangle of pipelines. "Lifting-bodies use heated hydrogen - they used to use helium until that ran out entirely - in special chambers for lift. Hot hydrogen has incredible lifting power. It's safe, too, thanks to tank walls made of the same stuff Blackmesh suits are..."

"Praise Luna, then." Calloway blinked and shook his head. "It's still there. It's still stuck, right there."

Calloway grinned. "That is our ticket out of here! Or it could be! I was sure it was game over, see you in hell time, but... this... petrol executives always have fancy rides, it's a pride thing with them! The dust is gone, the rain... it must have washed out of some hanger beyond where we could see, and somehow it washed that thing right here, right to us! Hell, I'm actually starting to believe in these crazy princesses of yours!"

"You... thought..." Dropspindle's ears dropped. "That's why you've been moping, why you keep telling me to watch shows on the..."

Getting to the airship was less than easy. They made their way around the upper levels of the plant, but there was no direct way to get to the cluster of tanks and pipes where the lifting-body was temporarily trapped. They had not stopped to gather anything at all - there was no telling how long the ship would remain, before it was swept away in the torrential current. As they ran and galloped down the hallways, the rain pounded on the ceilings and shook the walls.

Finally, they came to a set of double doors. The doors led outside to a metal platform, which in turn led to several catwalks. The catwalks ran from storage tank to storage tank, high above the maelstrom below.

"Dropspindle, be careful. Stay close, we have to stay close together at all times. It's going to be slippery - especially on those hooves of yours - and damn... I wish I had some rope or something to tie us together. Listen, just bite into my jumpsuit to hang on, use your horn, whatever. If we slip off and fall, we die, do you understand?"

"You should be. So am I. I'm fucking terrified. But that airship is our only hope. Or..." Calloway looked at the ceiling. "Or we could just wait here. Go watch your cartoon, the rec room will probably survive... and wait for Equestria. Those are our choices."

"Let's go!" Dropspindle began to open one of the double doors. The wind rattled the door and tore it from her telekinetic grasp. The doors both opened wide and smashed into the walls, gouging out pits where the handles impacted.

"Holy..." Calloway grabbed at Dropspindle's mane and dug his fingers through it. He closed his fist in a death-grip around thick, luxurious hair. "SLOW AND CAREFUL!" He had to yell against the fierce yowling of the wind and the rushing firehose of rain.

"SWEET LUNA, PROTECTOR OF FOALS!" The wind and rain had instantly soaked Dropspindle the moment she had set hoof upon the metal platform outside. The rain pushed her down, threatening to buckle her legs. "I... I CAN'T... I NEVER KNEW ANYTHING COULD BE LIKE..."

"COME ON!" Calloway moved slowly down the catwalk, one hand on the rail, the other still vice-clamped on Dropspindle's mane. If it hurt her, he couldn't tell, and ultimately didn't care - there was no way he was going to let her be washed away.

Gradually, under the constant bombardment of heavy rain gushing not only from the sky but from the tops of the storage tanks, platforms, and every other surface that it could splash and run off off, the pair made progress. The catwalks were narrow, the rails rusted and in some sections entirely missing. Whether the rails had broken away or been taken for the metal in them was unknown, and irrelevant. But where the rails were gone, Calloway swore like a sailor from the days when the seas still lived.

They crossed from one immense storage tank to another, threading their way to where the airship bumped against the trio of structures that held it. Calloway never once let go his fierce grip on Dropspindle's mane, and she did her best not to complain despite the pain. "JUST ANOTHER WALKWAY. THAT TANK THERE - THAT'S CLOSEST. WE'LL TRY THERE!"

"HOW DO WE GET INSIDE?" It was a legitimate question. Any doorways into the lifting-body were below the curve of the large solid shell that held the hydrogen sacs.

"HATCH! ON TOP!" Calloway couldn't point, all they could see from their angle was the front of the ship nuzzled into the trio of crude oil storage tanks.

The rain felt like it was getting worse. It poured, rather than fell, from the sky, and both human and pony found it difficult to breath from the constant force of water running down their faces. It was like being trapped under a faucet, hammered down by the weight of the water.

Slowly, carefully, hand on rail, or edge of platform when there was no rail, the two crawled the remaining distance to the large cylinder that stood over the nook where the airship was trapped. Below them, through grating and steel there was only swiftly moving water. For all the world, they were upon an oil rig in the middle of the ocean. Nowhere could land be spotted.

The dust was entirely gone, but the view was just as limited - this time by the daunting gray of a flood from the sky pressing hard upon them. They were forced to take quick glimpses before their eyes were overrun by rain - Dropspindle, with her large eyes, was nearly blind and had to trust to Calloway's tugging grip and the sensations of her body as she crawled.

They dragged themselves across the catwalk that ran over the top of a huge storage tank. Rain ran from the surface below in all directions, forming dozens of impressive waterfalls all around the perimeter of it. At the center of the container, the walkway angled off to another part of the complex. The airship was below them, below the rim of the tank they were on. Calloway looked at the river cascading over the edge of the storage tank and realized they could not even reach the edge to look down without being swept over.

"BUT THAT LEADS AWAY!" Dropspindle could only lay on the metal mesh of the catwalk and gasp. The rain was relentless. Her back felt numb and itched from the constant, bruising impact of it.

Calloway's hand ached to the bone from clutching Dropspindle's mane. His muscles were starting to cramp. He tried to release his grip, to rub his hand, but it was difficult commanding his own limb to release. Gradually, he managed to get his claw to open, and pulled his hand to himself and began massaging it as he lay on the causeway. "NO CHOICE." His hand throbbed and spasmed. "MAYBE... " His words were lost by a deafening explosion of thunder that shook the very structure they clung to.

The two began crawling away from the center, away from the direction of the ship below. At the edge of the tank, Calloway softly muttered a thank you to the pony princesses. There was a set of metal stairs that ran down, along the outside of the cylindrical storage tank. He had no way to know if they went all the way to the water below, or just to some inspection platform. But down was down, and it was even in the proper direction.

Going down the metal stairs was a hazard. Waterfalls from the top of the tank added to the already torrential rain. The stairs were narrow and steep, and the rail was loose and wobbly. Calloway clung to the steps while half-dragging Dropspindle down with him. She could not open her large eyes for the constant stream of liquid.

He could see the lifting-body airship now. On the wide, orange, diagonal stripe were painted large letters and numbers: OB-12565. As they crept down the spiraling steps, he could see more of the side of the huge craft. The name of the lighter-than-air ship was the 'Mamá Gansa'. The white curving surface gleamed like a gigantic egg. He could make out the seams of the hard shell that made the craft aerodynamic and capable of surprising speed. It was a gift from the gods, like something out of a fairytale. He had given up, but perhaps, somehow, the pony gods provided.

The metal stairs were curving away, around the storage tank, from the airship now. Calloway stopped. They were about two meters, he reckoned, above the upper surface of the Mamá Gansa. The top of the ship was very gently domed, with only the edges curving abruptly down. It was almost flat. Flat-ish. The ship was being moved by the river around it, and sometimes it swung so that it impacted the storage tank they clung to. If they jumped, he reasoned, they could land on the top of the airship. Make it to the hatch in the middle, at the highest point. That would go straight down, between the sealed gas compartments, to the interior. It was an access hatch. There were handles, he could just make them out, around it, with some leading down the curve of the craft, as well.

There is no way they could continue down and hope to swim to a door or hatch below the contours he could see... the current was far too strong. Anything that could move a ship of this size would wash a person - human or pony - away like nothing at all.

Calloway huddled down close to Dropspindle's face. He put his head over hers, to shield her from the downpour. His mouth was almost in her right ear. "We're going to have to jump. It's the only way. I can't think of anything else. I wish the rail wasn't there, but..."

Calloway and Dropspindle shifted and pressed themselves against the wall of the tank. Dropspindle placed her hind hooves on the rail, while Calloway held on to her. She lay on her back, one foreleg around Calloway. She kicked.

She couldn't get an angle to kick anymore. The rail was sideways, now, sticking out away from the steps, laterally. It was like a ledge, only with no surface, just a bar suspended by struts. "SORRY! ALL I CAN DO!"

"Dammit." She couldn't hear him, which was good. She'd tried. She was clearly much stronger than he was. He couldn't have done that - that railing was steel. That said, the sideways, bent railing was a worse hazard for jumping than when it had been upright. And this was the one point that hung over the high-tech blimp when it deigned to swing in the current to their position.

There was nothing for it. That airship would not be trapped forever. It was a miracle (thank you Celestia, or whoever) that it hadn't swung entirely around and floated on its way. It certainly made motions as if that was what it intended to do.

"WE'RE GONNA JUMP. TO THE SHIP. I CAN'T HOLD YOU DURING. BUT AFTER, WHEN WE HIT, WE GRAB ONTO EACH OTHER! GOT IT?"

"WHEN IT SWINGS NEAR!" Calloway could barely accept the fact that the storm was actually increasing. It seemed impossible for it to rain any harder, yet it clearly was. "Holy shit... desert storms... are bad."

The tanks and the ship went white as lightning temporarily blinded Calloway and Dropspindle. Within a second, thunder rocked the metal their backs were pressed into. The current was picking up in the water below. The airship began to swing towards them. "GET READY! STAND UP!"

It was hard to fight the wind and the rain, but both man and pony rose to their feet and hooves. Calloway had gone barefoot, for extra traction. Pony hooves were hard and smooth, and there was nothing available for that. Equestrian hiking boots were... in Equestria.

Calloway stepped forward from the metal stairs, and put one foot on the sideways rail for additional distance. Then he leaped away from the tower of the storage tank out onto the top of the Mamá Gansa. He hit, hard. The shell of the craft was indeed solid and not at all soft. The shock of the impact had cost him his wind. He sputtered and gasped, choking to get his diaphragm functioning again. At last he could suck back a gurgling, water laden lungful of air.

He spun around, flat to the curving surface, ready to catch Dropspindle, to grab any part of her. He'd heard her heavy thunk just after he had realized he couldn't breath. He swung around again, He looked in all directions. Hooves! God damned hooves! They had no grip on smooth, polished surfaces. Soft, bare, human hands and feet could gecko just enough but... Dropspindle wasn't still on the stairs. She wasn't on the curve of the airship. "DROPSPINDLE!!!"

He cried out again and again, listening each time. Against all reason, he stood up on the slick, curving surface, to try to see beyond its contours. Before he slipped and fell, he thought he glimpsed her carried by the current, as she passed between two of the large tanks that imprisoned the airship. He scrambled and used his flat hands and feet to control his motion as he was swept across the top of the airship. He slapped at the hard shell, trying to gain any traction at all, carried by the sleeting river of rain. Just before he flowed right over the edge, he managed to grab one of the handles that led to the access hatch.

Cross The Amazon

by Chatoyance

11. Mother Goose