//------------------------------// // 21. The Night Before Christmas // Story: Cross The Amazon // by Chatoyance //------------------------------// ══════════════════════ T H E C O N V E R S I O N B U R E A U : ══════════════════════ CROSS THE AMAZON By Chatoyance Chapter Twenty One: The Night Before Christmas "She just gave you all of her money, just like that? Bam! 'Here, you're rich now!' C'mon, where'd you bury the body really?" Captain Cudicini, who had insisted he be called by his first name, Bertrand, gave a polite chuckle. Dropspindle, however, could tell he hadn't particularly liked Calloway's implication. He seemed almost reverent towards his benefactor. "I'm quite serious, Cal, that is exactly what she did. And I - and my original crew - are not the only impoverished souls to be granted such a boon. Quite a few of the lesser elite, when they decide to go pony, tend to become generous. It only makes sense, if you think about it." Bertrand took another scoop of Melanzane alla Parmigiana and set the savory, breaded eggplant on his plate. The very real tomato sauce gleamed crimson wonderment as it drizzled to fill his dish. All of their food was real, and abundant, acquired from Newfoal farmers along their journey to survey the world. "By the time they make the decision to take the purple, most of them have already embraced Equestrian values. Is it strange to think that they would try to do something kind before they left this sad globe behind? But what could someone such as they do? I ask you!" Bertrand savored a bite of his eggplant. "The only tool they know is the power of credits - and so, this is the tool they use for their salvation before they go to their reward. Do you know the saying? 'Behind every great fortune is an equally great crime'. No family ever becomes so very wealthy without leaving behind a trail of bodies... or worse. No man ever became a quadrillionaire without either inheriting, or damning himself through despicable works. That is how real fortunes are made - always at the expense of others. "Well... except for gifts given... at the end of the world!" Lucía Tamayo was Ernesto's wife. She and her three children sat with him across the table from captain Cudicini. Bertrand smiled at her comment. "It is only reasonable, I think, that when one of the truly wealthy turns the compass of their heart towards Equestria, that they should take the measure of themselves and find it wanting. Some, I have no doubt, relieve their new-found shame and guilt through acts of sacrificial generosity. Their fervor is religious, and their tithes... well, their tithes are absolute. Besides - of what good are earthly credits when soon there will be no earth?" "There was... wasn't there a family? In Jakarta I think. Some elite just up and gave the keys to his mansion away?" Ernesto patted his wife's leg, just happy to be beside her. Ernesto had been Cudicini's navigator on their old ship, the Auxesia, when Betrand and he had suddenly become unearthly rich. Ernesto had planned to return to his family with his new fortune, and had done so - until Bertrand showed up and offered to take the entire Tamayo clan on board the Lady Venice. Several families lived on the vast air yacht now. The dining room was packed, yet surprisingly restrained and quiet for a table of seventeen... plus two new guests. "Oh! I remember that story!" Rumi had been a maid aboard the Auxesia when the wealth had been handed out. Now she was a grand lady of leisure. She traveled on the Venice because she had always liked captain Cudicini, and - honestly - didn't know what to do with so many credits. Flying around the world in style seemed nice to her, and Cudicini had welcomed her. "Keys, big car, air yacht - not as fancy as the Lady Venice, but impressive - and... and several mansions. Not just one. All around the world!" "Yeah! That was it. It was all over the holos. The Worldgovernment loves to publicize that stuff because it helps their efforts to get people into the Bureaus." Ernesto grinned through a mouthful of linguini. "Mphourse... of course..." He chewed and swallowed. "...nobody saw our moment." He looked directly at Calloway. "That's why we're on the run. Pirate fugitives, global criminals - we can't live by their rules, man!" Bertrand laughed. When he laughed for real, it was a deep, delightful Santa Claus baritone of joy. "My friend has become as prone to extravagances of speech as myself! The father of our... benefactor... had his pride wounded by the act of his daughter. He makes many claims, all of them quite false, but all of them sufficient to see us shot from the sky." He took a drink of imported cider. "Thus our many little 'deals' and 'agreements' with powers both earthly... and beyond." "Captai... Bertrand? back when you rescued us - thanks again for that, by the way -" Captain Cudicini smiled, nodded and gave a dismissive wave of the sort that communicates 'it was nothing, think no more about it'. "- you knew our names, and where to find us... basically everything. I am kind of curious..." Calloway had to stop and take another bite. The Melanzane was beyond perfect. "...who told you? If it is not a secret, just who is 'She Who Cannot Be Denied?'" "Ah! It is a secret! One dark and mysterious, shrouded in infamy and dramatic..." Bertrand turned to his navigator. "... Ernesto - what is the word I am looking for?" "Captain?" "Word! Something dramatic!" "'Secrecy'?" Ernesto was dependable, honorable, true, dedicated and not very imaginative. "It will do. 'Secrecy' then. But I shall tell you, for we are all great adventurers here, are we not?" The table collectively shouted "HUZZAH!" "Our great benefactrix, She Who Cannot Be Denied, is a Lady of perfect wisdom and superior taste, cultured, royal, dark as wine and twice as intoxicating, she adorns the night with..." "Luna. It figures. Excuse me." Dropspindle got down from the difficult human chair and began to return to her cabin. The captain was quite taken aback. "My good lady Dropspindle? Have I done something to offend you?" "Thank you for the dinner. Goodnight." Dropspindle trotted rapidly away. Captain Cudicini looked to Calloway for an explanation. "Please excuse me Captain... Bertrand... I... think I should check on her." Calloway got up and lay his napkin reluctantly down. "Please excuse her, everyone. She's been through a lot. Probably too much, honestly. She's very... hurt. Inside. Forgive me. Us." Taking one last look at the rest of what just might have been the best meal he had ever had, Calloway forced himself to leave the dining room. Calloway followed the corridor to a circular branching space centered around a spiral staircase. He took the stairs down and followed another corridor and took a right. The floors were polished arborite here, looking very much like real wood, the fixtures brass. The habitation level had the air of luxurious fantasies of ancient sailing ships about it. He opened the door to their suite and entered. "I thought I locked that!" Dropspindle turned from the curving window where she had been pointedly staring at the top of the global smog layer. "You did, but the handle's keyed to me, remember?" Dropspindle didn't have any implants, so she couldn't use a door properly. They had left their cabin unlocked so that she would always be able to get in. She could lock the door from the inside, but it would be useless against the permatech in Calloway's right arm. "Well... then take the hint!" She turned back to her intense study of nothing in particular. "Dropspindle... the captain is concerned for you. I'm sure everyone is - they're all really nice people. I'm concerned for you. What... what is going on?" Dropspindle's ears dropped but her eyes remained fixed outside the window. "Droppers? Talk to me. I care about what is going on for you." Her ears had flicked, but she had otherwise not responded. "Droppers?" "STOP CALLING ME THAT!" Her full attention was now on Calloway. "My name is 'Dropspindle'! I don't like that... that... shortened... twisted version... of my name. Not even in Humanese!" "Nickname. Humans like to use nicknames. They're endearing." "Shall I call you 'Cal' then? Would you like that?" She seemed to be trying to insult him. "The captain does. A lot of people do. You're about the only person who ever calls me 'Calloway'. Everybody calls me 'Cal'. It was a little strange at first, to tell you the truth." Calloway sat on the back edge of the bed, not oppressively close to the over-padded divan on which Dropspindle had been watching smog. "Well, 'Cal'..." Dropspindle returned her gaze to the window. "Go back to your fine new friends and enjoy your dinner. Tell the captain that I am sorry." She lowered her head, her ears flat. "And ask him for a cabin of your own, while you are about it." "Last night you begged to share a cabin! You didn't want to face sleeping alone!" "Well... that was last night. Goodbye, Cal." She raised her head to stare out the window again, but her ears remained flat. "Thanks for... for... oh, Mulligatawny! Just go." "Dropspindle." Calloway adjusted his seat on the bed, so that he was more comfortable. "Pushing me away isn't going to push what happened away too. Yeah, it was hard. It was scary. It was really difficult for me, too! Do you think I go around fighting for my life every day? That's why I needed your help - I was in way over my head! This was just as strange for me as it was for you! My life is normally just collecting boring samples from rock and studying them under a microscope. The closest I've ever been to car chases and scary stuff is movies and hologames. Do you think I liked any of this?" Dropspindle sat silently for a few moments, then turned her head to face Calloway. "Yes. I think you did enjoy it. You were grinning the whole time like it was a birthday party! And all of that cackling about how funny it was that those men crashed into that tree - and all those compliments about how clever I was to... to... anyway. Yes. I think you liked it. I think you loved it." Calloway brushed lint off of the fairly fancy new clothing that captain Cudicini had given him. He sighed. "Yeah. Okay. A bit. It was fun, in a way. It was exciting... and parts were funny. They were!" Dropspindle's expression did not agree. "But that's just human! If you watch holos about the Plains Indians, or the American nationals at war, and the Three Kingdoms or any stuff like that, it's pretty clear that people get hyped up when they fight! They laugh and smile and even compliment each other on how well they battled! And Wuxia films - all that magical martial arts, all that 'Your Kung Fu is weak, old man!' - all that stuff! It's human nature! But just because I laughed, just because I grinned or enjoyed parts of it doesn't mean I LIKED it!" Dropdspindle stared. Then she shook her head. "You are truly crazy. Your entire species really is insane. Of course I'd go nuts being around you! They warned me. I can't say I wasn't warned." She seemed on the verge of tears. Calloway moved closer. "It's not insanity. Well... maybe it is. But it's necessary. For living here. On earth." Dropspindle sniffed. "A lot of humans think ponies are insane. Did you know that? All that trust, all that sharing - they look at that and think 'Jesus, an entire race of marks ready to be fleeced!' To a lot of humans, the way you are adapted to your world is just as nuts as what you see when you look at us. We're each adapted to the world we have to live in. Do Newfoals act like humans after they're Converted?" "Not entirely." "No, they don't! Because Conversion adapts them to survive in your world. They'd never make it two days here if it weren't that there are so many of them staying earthside, and that the Blackmesh are sworn to protect them. Some don't survive. I've never understood why they hang back and make gardens in the cities. That's pretty crazy right there. They should just go to Equestria, where it's safe! Huh. I guess Newfoals do kind of act like humans after all. "But that's not my point. My point is that they stop being violent, they start trusting and sharing just like any pony does. Because they are ponies now. I guess what I am saying is... a fish, I've never seen one, but I've seen pictures - a fish can't live on land. They lived in water, right? You have fish in your universe, right? And birds - you have those, I know you have those - they can't live under water because they would drown! Fish are adapted to water, and birds are adapted to air! Dropspindle... if a bird got tossed into the sea, it would have to learn to swim, or it would die, wouldn't it? But it would never be a fish. No matter how good at swimming it became, a fish would always just rip right past it, do circles around it." Dropspindle's ears raised slightly. "But that bird, once it gets to shore, it can shake itself off. It can... do whatever birds do to get dry. And then it would fly again, wouldn't it? It would just up and fly! And the fact that it had to learn how to swim, in order to not drown and die, that doesn't change the fact it is a bird, that fact doesn't make it a fish. It just means that the bird was clever enough to not die." Calloway moved even closer. He was close enough now to touch Dropspindle, but he did not try. "Too many Newfoals die here. On earth. And natives too. You hear about incidents all the time on the net. Those ponies didn't adapt - hell, even the ones that used to be humans mess up and go down the wrong alley or trust the wrong human. They didn't re-adapt to the world they chose to stay in. So they died. But you are alive. You made it. I made it - because of you! I could not have survived any of this without your help, Dropspindle. Because you found a way to adapt - to earth - because you did that, we are both alive! I owe you my life, Dropspindle - and not just because you got me out of that cave. Because you were a bird that learned how to swim." Tears were rolling down Dropspindle's muzzle. "Dropspindle... Dropspindle..." Calloway wrapped his arms around the shaking mare. "Shhh... it'll be okay. It will. It will be okay. One day. I know this because humans have to deal with this stuff all the time. Any creature here, on earth, has to deal with stuff like this. And that's how I know. That's how I know that one day, both of us, you and me together, we'll get past this. It may not feel like it now - it never does, this soon. But it happens. I promise you, you can heal even from earth. Because I've done just that, several times already in my life." Dropspindle hugged Calloway back. She was overly strong, and it hurt a bit, but Calloway endured. "Luna didn't come!" Calloway lay his head - carefully - over hers, avoiding her horn. "No, not in person. But she sent help! You can't argue that isn't so, because the captain said so, by name! She remembered you, and she helped you." He lifted his head and pulled away so he could look her in the eyes. "Dropspindle - humans would kill just to believe that some all-powerful being cared even a tiny bit about them. Actually, they have. Throughout history. But you... just because she didn't appear in person on a shining cloud or whatever - she still sent this ship, she sent captain Cudicini here, she probably 'did' stuff all through our trip for all we know. I think... I think it's a little ungrateful of you to want more than what she was willing and able to give. She has her own life, she has the fate of two universes to care about - yet she still took time to send help for you. Show a little gratitude, okay? I feel nothing but!" Dropspindle's eyes widened. "You do, don't you? You really do!" "Of course I do! Christ, Dropspindle... I feel total gratitude for you saving me, and Luna saving you... and me by proxy. Why wouldn't I? Think about it, Dropspindle - on this world, as harsh as you've just seen it can be, wouldn't gratitude be a big survival advantage? Wouldn't it be a useful adaptation? If someone helps you, if they are nice to you here... it means a lot! It isn't just expected, here. It's a gift, it's special just to be treated with respect! If you are going to swim with us fish here, learn that lesson. Learn gratitude for every little kindness. Because here, they are rare. I... I wanna say something here, but... but..." "But what?" The two were still holding each other, arms and forelegs on each other's shoulder and waist. "But... I figure you might get upset. So understand, I'm taking a risk here." "Alright... Calloway." "I'm... actually... I'm a little upset with you for being so angry with your princesses. To me, having lived on earth my whole life, it seems, well, spoiled, frankly. Privileged. And I suppose it is, because your world is different, and you are used to a different 'normal' than I am but... from where I am, on this world, what you see as being snubbed, I can only see as being blessed. Hell - more than blessed, straight up singled out for special treatment with all the trimmings!" Calloway pressed his forehead gently against the part of her poll just under her horn. He could feel her horn pressing against the top of his skull. "It's going to get better, and you will be okay one day. But part of that is you're gonna hafta learn one more swimming stroke and let go of being mad at Luna. And Celestia, too. And this world as well. Let all of that go. Do it for you, not them. You have to let this stuff go, for your own sake. That's how it works." They sat there, on bed and divan, awkwardly embracing, for some time. "Calloway?" "Yes?" "Don't go ask for another cabin. I don't... I..." "I understand. I'll stay. Actually, I've gotten really used to curling up with you, too. It would feel... lonely, now, I think." "Yes! That's it exactly!" "Do you want to go back to dinner?" Calloway could still taste the incredible eggplant dish, thanks to a little bit he found stuck near his back molar. God, they ate well on this ship. "I think dinner would be over by now." Dropspindle wiped at her face with one hoof, the other still around Kotani. "Sorry." "No, I'm sorry. For putting you through all of this." "Ponies... help." "Yeah. They do. They absolutely do." "And this... is our special bar. We have all the amenities. A changing room that can be hosed down - you would not believe some of the things we carry in our bodies - a fine selection of just about ever variant ever produced. And some curios that are my private pleasure." Bertrand Cudicini brought down a box from where it had been locked onto the shelves. He placed it on the curving nightclub-styled bar and pressed several active surface releases. Inside was an oversized glassine egg filled with a curious reddish-purple swirl that churned and roiled like a storm. "P.E.R. 'Area Of Improvement' nanofluidic gas grenade. Creates a surprisingly large, stable cloud that acts as a semi-rigid foam. Anyone within the region becomes a pony within ten minutes. Half the Conversion time of the government standard potion." Calloway had heard many stories of the PER. "Are you...?" Cudicini laughed. "No, no... no PER here. And no HLF either. It's just a collector's piece. I have come to enjoy the possession of rare and strange objects. They possess great mystery and wonder to them, I think. It's quite something to get to see, is it not?" "I... guess so. I've seen news stories showing the aftermath of this very thing. Crowds of freshly made Newfoals, all shrouded in a cloud that just sits there, as if it were almost solid." Calloway reached for the egg, but Bertrand stopped him. "It's better not to handle it. Don't want any accidents." Calloway pulled his hand back. Cudicini relocked the egg box and returned it to the shelf. "Now, my fine friend, here is a bit of an antique... if four years can be considered ancient. Considering how fast things are changing - for all of us - perhaps four years is an eternity now!" The captain donned thick gloves and unstrapped a metal case from the shelves and brought it down to the countertop. He unclamped some simple, mechanical locks - not a single active surface to be seen. The case opened, and the inside revealed a stoppered Erlenmeyer covered in government seals. A tag hung from a strap, covered with numbers and letters. The contents of the bottle were translucent red. "This, my good doctor Kotani, is from one of the very first runs of ponification serum ever made. Often referred to as the 'cherry' potion, because of the flavoring used, and the color of course, this has a peculiar history and effect. It is rumored that this batch was created from templates provided by the original six ambassadors, all mares. And the result of taking it is always, and without exception, the creation of an Equestrian mare. Fancy being a mare, doctor?" Cudicini was not laughing, he had not meant his words as a joke. The offer was genuine, and without judgement. Calloway shuddered. "Uh... no! No... no thank you!" Involutarily, he stepped back, as if facing some dangerous creature. The captain laughed heartily as he replaced the rare, collectable ponification serum. "I have learned not to assume in these matters. Do not be alarmed. No cherry for you!" Bertrand went to what appeared to be a large keg ensconced within a complex arrangement of protective roll bars. The container had many government stamps and seals, and an active print card that hung from a strap. The card constantly scrolled a projection of information and symbols drawn in animated ink upon its surface. Red warnings were followed by reams of text crawling across the thin, dangling rectangle. "Official Worldgovernment 6.03 Ponification Transformation Serum. A 'Pony Keg' as the humorless bastards in the government named it - they honestly didn't even get their own, unintentional joke. Is that the government or what?" Cudicini seemed particularly jolly today. From his remarkable collection, it seemed that ponification fascinated him at some level. "This is the latest stuff - well, next to the latest. I hear that they've upped to 6.04 this month, but honestly - I can't imagine what the difference would even be. This is the proper purple, the most technologically advanced transformation serum in existence. It isn't fancy - it doesn't make standing clouds, or possess a time delayed effect, or crawl about in blobs seeking out targets - no. This is just good old, government approved, Bureau standard potion." Calloway stared at the keg. He watched the active card print and dissolve ink as it displayed images and text. Cudicini placed a hand on Calloway's shoulder. "So, Cal, good doctor Kotani - shall I be your bartender today and pour you a glass?" Calloway remembered his promise, back in the Big Truck, driving that terrible road between life and death. A promise to the godlike princesses of another universe. "Yes sir. Please. It's been a thirsty several thousand miles." Captain Cudicini roared at that and slapped Calloway on the back. "Well said, well said!" He reached under the back of the bar counter and pulled out a small device. "Genetic scanner. Allergenotype - for the anesthesia." Calloway extended his arm and let the captain scan him. "Type C, coming up. You're a rare man, doctor Kotani!" Cudicini motioned towards the compact, spotlessly white room across from the bar. "Please step into the changing room and undress completely - don't be modest, you were nearly so when we first met! I will bring you your drink shortly." Calloway left the captain to his measuring and mixing and entered the blank room. It resembled a large, cubical shower stall. The corners were curved and everything was smooth and sterile looking. There were several grated drains in the floor, and places for water to shoot down from the ceiling, but no handles or valves to control it. Inset into one wall was a large covered slot with biohazard symbols and text on it. "That is where the 'tech goes, when it leaves your body. Permatech, softech, people forget how many augmentations and devices they have inside. Scanners, trackers, fillings, phones... heart valves, artificial livers and kidneys, lenses in the eyes, ports in the skull. Sometimes I think, if the ponies hadn't come, and if we hadn't killed our planet so early on, we would have ended up machine men entirely. Perhaps with a human heart in a little box, just to pretend we were alive." Bertrand wore nanoprene hospital gloves and carried a beautiful silver tray. On the tray was a crystal goblet. Inside the goblet swirled a thick, viscous 'wine'. The bright purple liquid sparkled with little lights and glints of metallic silver. Kotani thought he could almost hear faint, distant, curious music coming from the glass as the captain handed it to him. "There are rules, Cal. Sit down, there. Like that. Good! Now, when you drink, drink it all in one gulp if you can - the wine of Equestria is not to be sipped, but chugged with a full heart. Then I will take your goblet, and you will fall over and begin your transformation. You must do this correctly - all at once. The goal is to get it inside you as rapidly as possible. Do you understand?" Bertrand seemed very concerned. "I... I understand, Betrand." Calloway stared at the goblet and its contents. This was it. This was his last moment wearing human flesh. The last seconds of fingers and toes, of naked skin, of violence and sin. Here was a cup of absolution, of escape from the fate of all apes. If only there was such a cup for Dropspindle, to wash away her sorrows and conflict. In this moment, it did seem that humanity was getting the better deal, and that the natives of Equestria were only suffering because of it. Calloway resolved to try, as a stallion, to balance the equation. If he could. Perhaps there was little he could do, but whatever could be done, he would do for her. If Dropspindle had not come into his cave, he would have died playing Slaughterstrike... and it wasn't even the best game in the series. "Kanpai!" Calloway downed the goblet in a constant gulping swallow. He burped. Then he fell over. Bertrand Cudicini bent over and picked up the goblet where it had rolled to. He stepped back, out of the changing room, and set the goblet into a biohazard container. Then he returned to the doorway of the changing room. Already Calloway had turned shock white, the color of bloodless dough, his skin and organs beginning to move and squirm. His eyes were shut tight, the lids growing together and sealing. Cudicini gave a grand salute, as if to an officer. All of Calloway's messy raven hair fell out. Then something made of metal and neoplastic and ceramics began to push steadily out of the swelling dough that had been his right arm. More devices followed, from various parts of his body. Dutifully, captain Cudicini picked each bit of detritus up with his gloved hands and dropped them into the changing room biohazard slot, before stepping back to the doorway. One day, every member of his crew, and then he himself, would visit the bar. One day. But not today, not just yet.