Side by side, Swab and Croche limped up out of the brig within the southern strut. They immediately had to step sideways to avoid the bleeding, breathless corpse of a slain pirate. As they reached the top deck, they spotted several more slain privateers. Dredgers were marching back and forth, piling the foreign bodies into a corner—flinging the invaders' weapons into another. As the clatter of rattling blades ended, a salty wind blew through, carrying the sound of dozens upon hundreds of wailing voices.
Swab winced from his injured head. Nevertheless, he pivoted about, leaning his weight on Croche's shoulder as he peered across the struts. His yellow eyes fell upon multiple families—each huddled around the dead stallion of the household while wives and foals wept for a father who would never move again. Elders stood in frayed circles, leaning against one another as they gazed across the chaotic remnants of a bloody war-at-sea.
Flaming wreckage still billowed from random spots across Red Barge. The smoky fumes of charred hulls added to the soot and grime in the air. It was through this smoldering mess that a trio of pegasi returned from the east. Multiple dredgers raised their spears and crossbows—but relaxed as soon as they recognized the ponies in flight as belonging to Monket. The looks of horror plastered across the pegasi's muzzles were beyond vomitous. They gaped at the burning metalscape, then landed awkwardly on Monket's lone surviving steamship as it moored along the remains of the northern strut. Coiling their aching wings, the pegasus servants stumbled back and forth across the shattered top deck, calling out for their loved ones—but to no avail. Even from a distance, Swab could make out a distraught mare tearing off her flight jacket and falling to her knees to cradle the bloody remains of her dead brother. She buried her muzzle in his chest and howled with a voice so loud and mournful that it rattled the muck and water beneath the barge.
Monket—meanwhile—stumbled off his ship and trudged across the struts of the Barge, limping. His muzzle was stuck in an iron-wrought frown as he took in the dismantled lengths of the place. He trotted vaguely in the direction of the western strut—and he wasn't alone. Several dredgers were shuffling in that direction as well. A mild commotion rose through the air, bleeding into a panicked roar. Soon, Red Bargers were running... dashing... galloping towards where the damage along the struts was most severe.
“Swab...” Croche lifted a hoof and pointed up high. “Look.”
He did. To the colt's horror, the air towards the west end of the Barge was turning thick and gray. An ear-piercing howl filled the air as multiple pipes and vents began to buckle.
“Verlaxion spare us...” Swab gulped. “...the steam reserves...”
At precisely that moment, multiple dredgers' voices shouted through the wispy air:
“To the west strut!”
“All hooves!”
“Move! Move!”
“Grab any tool you can!”
By then, a thick line of orphans was running by. More than one of them flashed a panicked look at Swab and Croche, panting. “There you are! C-can't you hear the shouts?!”
“The... the steam tanks—” Croche stammered.
“If it blows, there's no Red Barge!” Whony's voice rang as he and several other foals galloped by. “Much less any nibbles! Move your asses!”
“Friggin' move!”
“Oh gosh... oh g-gosh!” Croche winced, bursting into a full sprint.
Swab panted, limping to keep up with her and the mass of Dredgers flooding west.
The west struts were a mess of epic proportions. The bloody corpses of pirates were draped across many of the bulkheads. Meanwhile, remnants of motorboats and landing craft scraped against the outer hulls between spots where cannonballs and dredge coal explosives had shattered the rusted framework to bits.
This wasn't the worst of it...
Countless steam pipes and valves had burst, rupturing from the intense heat billowing upward from the lower holds of the welded vessels. Dredgers scampered all across the metal lengths of the struts, struggling to tighten the framework, sealing off the leaks so that they could redirect the searing hot air flow. It was a losing battle from the start, and the frantic, angry shouts being flung from group to group wasn't helping the matter get any better.
“No! No, dammit!” Nixkit snarled, waving his hooves dramatically at the chaotic group of panicked dredgers. “Keep away from the lateral manifolds! They're too far gone and you'll bloat in an instant if they burst even further!”
“It's the outermost strut!”
“It's taken on too much damage!”
“I can see that, you imbeciles!” Nixkit shouted, waving cloudbursts of industrial fog out of his muzzle. “Grnngh... but can you localize it?!”
“Too early to tell!” Digiff's voice shouted. He poked his head out of a metal compartment, drenched in sweat. “This whole thing is shot to Hell! Chandler's shit did a number to us!”
“Can you prevent a cascade?”
“Not at this rate.” Panting, Digiff slid out of the compartment with help from another dredger. He looked at Nixkit with a dazed expression. “And the motors are fried.”
“You mean...?”
Digiff nodded weakly. “Not enough power to move the struts away from the rest of the Barge before this part of the platform blows.”
“Verlaxion's sleet...” Monket grumbled as he shuffled up with a few bruised servants. “I sacrifice a ship full of property to save your sorry flanks and this is what you've got to show for it?”
“Hey!” Digiff frowned, pointing across the bulkheads. “Why don't you floss your ass with those dreads of yours and give us something to really patch up the pipes with!”
Schiiiing! Monket unsheathed a rapier. “How about you trot over here and kiss it instead?”
“Easy there, Nasty Mister Mucker...” Skagra drifted by, pressing Monket's forelimb down with a graceful hoof. “Don't lose your 'hero-of-the-hour' status over a bearded back-biter.”
“You're one to talk, Skagra!” Monket hissed through soot-stained teeth. “Defending your sorry ass barge has cost me big time! And—”
“AND... there'll be no paybacks whatsoever if we don't get our collective shits together.”
“What are we even going to do about Chandler and the Rainbow Rogue now?!” Monket gestured, cackling. “We've made far too many damn explosions for the seven seas to ignore! They'll be sending the Talon at any point! And just how are you going to explain the griffon in your hold now, dredger?!”
“Shhhhh...” Skagra calmly paced through the fidgeting group of panicked dredgers. “...let's all take a deep breath and deal with this in the same way I like to approach waking up in the morning.” He brushed his bangs back. “One holocaust at a time.” The red hair flounced back as he turned to gaze at Nixkit. “Lay it on me, Nixxy.”
Nixkit took a deep breath. “Boss, we may have a problem.”
“And I might have kidney stones. Out with it already.”
Croche and Swab arrived at this point, standing on the sidelines with multiple orphans. They held tools at the ready, staring nervously across the canal of the nearest strut.
Nixkit strolled across the steaming deck, pointing at Digiff and the other dredgers' frantic work. “The surface damage to the struts will be easy to fix. But the dredge coal explosions must have rattled the structure too hard. Digiff thinks the steam reserves down in the hold have ruptured.”
Digiff shook his head. “There's no way down there, Skagra. The cabins have collapsed.” He wiped the sweat and grime from his brow, trembling. “We've tried redirecting the heat from above, but we can't properly channel the excess steam. It's too busted up top as well.”
“So it's gonna blow, is what you're saying,” Monket slurred from the sidelines. He shrugged wildly. “All of this melee and mayhem?! For what?!”
Digiff frowned at him, then looked at Skagra. “Boss, if we can uncouple the struts and then rotate the Barge away, we might be able to gain some distance—”
“No use,” Skagra grunted, staring gravely at the steamy mess. “The engines are fried. It took hell and high water just to get the thing to move so Monket could disembark and do his high seas hero shit.”
“So you're saying that moving Red Barge is not an option?” Nixkit remarked.
“Not in time to avoid what's boiling up here,” Skagra said.
“Look out!” a stallion's voice shouted.
“Get away from the panels—!”
Two hulls away, several pipes burst. A stallion shrieked in pain as his lower legs were instantly scalded. The other dredgers dragged him away from a veritable explosion of burning vapors. Croche, Swab, and the other orphans grimaced as they saw the steam geyser climb high into the air, accompanied by an ear-piercing whistle.
Digiff clenched his teeth. “That's it!” He flashed a wild look at Skagra. “That's the start of a cascade! We can't regulate it at this point!”
“Can you localize it?” Nixkit breathlessly asked. “If... if perhaps we could keep the explosion contained to—”
“Impossible.” Digiff shook his head. “It'll rupture all the way through the strut, bringing the western platforms under. The impact to the rest of the Barge will be catastrophic.”
“Then what are we standing around here for?!” Monket frowned. “Move your dredgers to the opposite end of the Barge—”
“Shhhh!” Skagra hissed with such sudden authority that it even silenced the slaver. He paced across the steaming hull, pondering darkly. “... ... ...what about the crawlspaces?”
Digiff blinked. “The maintenance corridors?”
“Are they accessible?”
“None of my stallions can even fit in—”
“I wasn't talking about the stallions, Digiff.”
Digiff's muzzle hung open. He turned, gazing dully across the canal.
A hundred little eyes gazed back.
“Answer the question, Digiff,” Skagra droned.
“It's...” Digiff gulped. “...it's got to be over one hundred and twenty degrees down there and rising—”
“How long will it take to access the steam reserves and vent them from inside?”
Digiff took a deep breath. His jaws clenched. “Not that long... boss.”
Skagra swiveled around. His crooked eyes bounced from foal to foal. He shuffled down the line of orphans... until at last his gaze fell upon the smallest body he could see. He pointed. “Canteloupe.”
Nixkit whistled to Digiff.
Instantly, Digiff marched across the bridge, reached a hoof out, and grabbed Swab by the shoulder.
Swab gasped. His eyes darted between Skagra and the steam. He gasped again, harder. “But... b-but...”
“Just be quiet already, ya little shit,” Digiff grumbled under his breath, staring ahead.
“Wait!” Croche suddenly gasped. She scampered after the dredger as he dragged Swab back across the bridge. “There's got to be another way! Sending him down there?! It'll... it'll kill him!”
“Mind your place, seafoam,” Digiff huffed, yanking a wincing, bandaged Swab after him.
“No! You can't!”
“Nixxy...” Skagra yawned, shuffling off. “...a leash, if you will.”
Nixkit firmly reached out and grabbed Croche. “That's far enough—”
“Stop it!” Croche's voice cracked as she struggled in the dredger's grasp. “Grnnngh... somepony! Please! Stop him!”
Digiff dragged Swab over to the nearest maintenance hatch. A pair of stallions were already grabbing a length of rope and chain to affix to the shivering colt's leg. A line of dredgers solemnly stood at a distance. Nopony moved an inch, despite Croche's shrieks.
“You all fought so hard to save each other! To save this Barge!” She stammered, wept. “Why do this to ourselves?!” She looked at the orphans—but they merely hung their heads, staring into the muck below the Barge. “Why c-can't we just... just b-be nice to each other?!”
“That's enough, child,” Nixkit droned, shoving her back towards the rest of the orphans. “Get it out of your head or you won't see twenty winters.” He turned towards Digiff and nodded.
“Please...” Croche fell to her knees, shivering. “...pl-please, can't we just ch-change...?”
Swab stared at her, wincing. He shivered as the metal-and-rope tether was brought to his rear leg. His lips moved, murmuring Verlaxion's name.
Just before the cuff could latch on, a dull olive forelimb reached in, holding it in place. “Wait...” Quint shoved Swab aside and grasped the tether in his own hooves. “Don't bother. The little seafoam scrap is useless.”
Digiff did a double-take. He marched forward, snarling at the older colt: “Boy—”
“He's a half-headed moron,” Quint said, frowning up at the dredger. “You shove him down there and in ten seconds he'll be sobbing for his worthless parents... not saving the Barge.”
“He's tiny! He can get the job done—”
“But he doesn't have the experience.” Quint's nostrils flared. “Not like I do.” That said, he clasped the tether around his leg with a sigh. “You want to prevent the cascade? Leave it to the experts.”
From afar, Whony gasped. He shoved his way through the crowd of orphans and dredgers and rushed across the bridge.
Digiff gnashed his teeth. “Kid—listen! This ain't no time for—”
“No, you listen!” Quint snarled back. “The kids here are my responsibility. Just like the rest of the dredgers are yours. You wanna put the steam in responsible hooves or risk it on a useless nopony?”
Swab stared from aside, breathless.
Digiff fidgeted. He looked at the venting steam, then across the way at Skagra.
Skagra glared back through one sickly eye.
Frowning, Digiff spun away from Quint. He grunted over his shoulder, “Go under.”
“Right...” Quint grabbed a tool satchel, flinging it around himself. “About time somepony was an adult about this.”
“Quint!” Whony stammered. He galloped past Swab and stood before the older colt. “Quint! Are you crazy?!”
“Only the craziest,” Quint muttered. He stared at the lid to the maintenance compartment while two stallions rushed over, hooking their crowbars into the notches and lifting.
“This is beyond us! Beyond you!” Whony squeaked through clenched teeth. “Quint... you stay down there for five minutes and you'll be dead!”
“All things considered, it'll be an upgrade,” Quint droned.
“But... but...” Whony clenched his eyes shut as he buckled.
“Shhhh...” Quint reached over, hooking a forelimb around Whony's neck. He leaned his forehead against the other colt's as Whony shuddered. “...they're your responsibility now.”
“I can't...” Whony whimpered, gnashing his teeth. “I... I-I just can't...”
“You can do many things, dude,” Quint murmured. “But just make sure you it's not everything he can do. Or will do.” He leaned back, facing the hatch once more. “Or you'll be headed to the same place.”
At last, the stallions opened the lid. Steam vented out in a ghostly gray burst. The hairs of everypony within fifteen feet instantly curled.
Quint took one last breath... and shuffled effortlessly towards the hole. He clenched his jaw shut so as not to whimper when his hooves made hissing contact with the ladder. Some shuffling, and the colt's eyes watered as he descended into the torturous corridor. He gazed one last time at the grimy metal... the polluted sky. He caught an eye-full of Swab, and disappeared.
Swab blinked.
Croche watched as the tether snaked its way down into the corridor, gliding slower and slower. She hung her head while a dull hush hung over the party.
Everypony waited in tense silence for the steam problem to be fixed from within. Digiff said nothing. Nixkit paced and paced while Skagra held a private, murmuring conversation with Monket a few spaces over.
And Swab...
Swab gazed at the scene, muzzle agape. He blinked, shivering. At last, he tilted his head over to the side. “... ... ...Whony?”
The colt sat with his back to the orphan, gazing ceaselessly at the steaming hatch and the snaking tether.
Slowly, Swab shuffled over to Whony. Swallowing a lump down his throat, he reached a hoof out to the colt's shoulder. “Whony... I'm... I-I'm so—”
“Rrrrgh!” Whony spun about, teeth gnashing. He swung at Swab's chin.
The hoof barely made contact. Swab fell back on his haunches all the same.
Whony leered over him, eyes streaming with tears. “You happy?! You stupid piece of seafoam?!” He rubbed his muzzle, shaking from head to tail. “You've killed him! The best thing to c-come out of this damn place is dead now and it's all your fault!” He sobbed into his forelimb, shivering all over. “Friggin'... one-eared freak! What are you ever g-good for?!” Whimpering, Whony broke into a crooked gallop, running far... far away from the strut.
Swab stared after him, lips quivering. At last, he buried his face in his hooves.
Not long after, the steam venting out from the lower struts dissipated. The pipes stopped hissing. The muck-stained waters stopped boiling.
And the tether...
The tether was no longer moving.