Chapter 6 Motivations
Music was in the air. It pretty much had to be. When suddenly every single radio station in a thousand miles becomes available to you, it’d be a sin to not channel surf. I couldn’t get even half way past the docks without hearing DJ Pon3 talking about a Stable Dweller sacking a slave camp, Short Wave’s playlist on The Signal, and The S.S.I.R. (Summer Sunset Isle Radio) weather report. It was pretty cool. It gave the quiet docks some life in it. I had just got to the top of the ramp to the inner gardens when something attempted to break my nose.
A ball bounced from a stick swung by a young foal and hit me square in the face. It was made from rubber bands, duct tape and most likely a rock. Children were playing a game of stick ball. I tossed the ball back into the field of play. I still had to collect for my service, and get my toy. I followed the scent of the plant that made me wanna hug someone then raid their fridge.
Sure enough Short Wave was in front of his shop. He was loading some boxes onto a dolly. He turned to see me and straight up tackle hugged me.
“Maang! You are the best friend a guy could ask for! Yah know that!” Short Wave nuzzled himself on my chest. I looked off to the side trying to escape the grapple huggy bro-ness that was Short Wave.
“Yeah, no problem. What’s with the boxes?” I asked trying to get him off me.
“Well that Holodisk just has the reprogram… program and a playlist of about two dozen songs. Somebody’s gonna have to go live with that sucker sooner or later.” His language stumbled over the technical terms hiding his brilliance.
“Just don’t make a habit of going into the cellar; unless, of course, you’re a fan of melanoma, with a touch of the radiation poisoning.” I warned. He nodded his head repeatedly.
“See, I knew something was up with that place. You just get that gut feeling something isn’t right maang. S’why I hired you.” He explained.
“So you had a feeling that the living dead would ambush the one who booted the place up?” I added.
“Oh, so some ghoulies where shackin’ up there as well? See this is why I hire ponies with that killer twitch. Anypony who looks like they could beat me in a scrap is inherently better suited to do this sorta thing” He said reconfirming his own thoughts. Wait… what?
“I got a killer twitch?” I asked. I didn’t feel like I had a twitch. Sorbet and Éclair certainly didn’t say anything.
“Everybody’s got twitches. Even non pony dudes. Yah just gotta look real hard.” Short Wave explained. He put an arm around me and brought me up to a balcony overlooking the market. He pointed towards the gun merchant.
“A couple of muscles are tensing and releasing in his lower left flank cheek. He’s been in a dry spell, and really wants to get it on with the missus. However, the quiver of his neck muscles mean he’s fuming about something that happened earlier. Putting two and two together, I’d say there is a lover’s spat going on, probably going to end in make-up sex.” Short Wave dissected the scene with his eyes. Before long, the merchant and his wife start having words, Very heated words, followed by a sudden kiss. The two went in the back room hanging a ‘Closed’ sign on the door.
“How the…” I mumbled in awe.
“One of my favorite things to do after hitting some of my stuff is to people watch. Best trip you’ll ever have. Now judging from the way your ear is a movin. You’re looking for your reward.” Short Wave dropped a back of caps in front of me. Along with my newest and favorite child. The Super 8 Camera levitated up to my eyes. I could feel the butterflies in my stomach. I had to play with it.
“If you ever need my help again, don’t hesitate to holler. I’ve got no less than 3 radios on my boat.” I smiled as I began to walk away
“I’ll do that my aquatic friend.” I froze at Short Wave’s farewell. I looked at him. He was smiling.
“I’m that obvious?”
“Not really, It took you getting to the listening post and back without a boat to clue me in. Just keep the cloak on, you’ll be fine.” He said to me.
“So, no freaking out or anything?” I filled the dead air. He shook his head.
“As an a accomplished druggie, I’ve learned to cope with my long dead grandmother climbing up my leg with a knife in her teeth. Your amphibiousness-ness doesn’t even rate.” I took his word for it. I looked around again.
“Hey, if you got any friends, specifically friends in the trading business, who are not opposed to my kind of peculiarities; could you send them to these coordinates. My folks back home would really appreciate it.” I wrote down the directions to The Reef. Short Wave looked over the note.
“I think I know a couple. I’ll make sure their on the up and up before I send them your way.”
“Thanks, now if you’ll excuse me, I have a Camera to play with! And one of my friends in the clinic, yeah I should see them too…”
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
“I was hoping you would show up soon.” The Doc Stitch said. The clinic was empty save for me and him. “Sorbet has made a full recovery. She asked to be alone for a few minutes, stretch her legs.”
I nodded at the statement. She’d been lying down for at least three days now, I’d be restless too.
“She’s in the back room right now; she’d like to talk to you if you’re free.” Dr. Stitch relayed.
“I’ll go see her then.” I replied. He ushered me to the back room, opening the door. I walked in as the good doctor closed the door behind me. Sorbet was looking out the window; the sun was sinking into the horizon, giving way to the night. She was wrapped up in a blanket, drinking some tea from a mug. No light was in the room besides window. She regarded me but didn’t turn from the window.
“I heard you were out doing jobs while I recovered.” She said to me.
“Yeah, can’t have enough supplies for the trip we have a head of us.” I answered.
“Good use of time, but I would have liked you to stay here.” She replied.
“Why’s that.”
“You left Éclair here, for one. Two, you could have been here to defend yourself to me.” She turned her head towards me. Her eyes were daggers.
“What’s this about?” I raised an eyebrow. My heart started to go cold.
“The doctor told me I made a full recovery. It sure as hell doesn’t look like it.” She dropped the blanket. Pale jagged and raised skin ran along her spine. The hairless scars flowed down like a morbid river. My eyes narrowed.
“He said the scarring was due to the fact that the flesh was warped from the first aid techniques used. Because you burnt my wounds closed, I don’t have a cutie mark anymore.” She pointed her hoof at her flank, accentuating the warped flesh where her cutie mark would have been. The only evidence that a cutie make had been there at all was a thin red triangle.
“Oh okay, I thought this was going to be serious.” I mumbled aloud. She just needed to blow off some steam.
“It’s pretty damn serious to me! Your haphazard way of saving my life took away part of my identity.” She hissed. She looked damn near ready to pounce on me.
“A cutie mark isn’t that big a deal.” I said in a monotone. I waved away the statement like it was a fly.
“Oh, this is coming from a pony from a village that shoots foals up with drugs so they can get them! I had to work to get my cutie mark!” She raised her voice. Ouch, really Sorbet? Having her vent wasn’t helping. Plan B!
“Ok, how did you get it then?” I asked evenly.
“I-I what?” she stammered. The angry puzzled expression on her face told me a lot. She wasn’t expecting curiosity towards her past.
“How. Did. You. Get. Your. Cutie. Mark?” I punctuated. I had to get her focused on the new topic. All the anger flushed out of her body as I saw the wheels turning in her head. She turned around towards the window.
“It was raining. Mum and I were at our hut outside of Trottingham. She worked as an escort bodyguard. Twernt living at Stable City yet, just another wasteland family. Anyways, a family of salvagers hired Mum to escort them up the mountains to Stable City. Offered double the usual rate if they could get up there before night fall. Mum, always one for cash, took the job without so much as a second thought.” She began her tale.
“What Mum never really got through her head, or more likely never cared about, was when a pony is willing to pay more to get somewhere on the double; they are running from something. Probably getting ahead of myself a little. The family was three ponies, a mum, a dad, and a little boy, about my age. It was pretty dull, Up until half way up the mountain that is. Sure enough that something they were running from was on us. ” she frowned at the thoughts she was conjuring.
“It was the Steel Rangers, a clan of ponies that collected Technology like it was life itself. They came at us claiming that the family nicked something valuable from them and they wanted it back, with them cocking their guns to emphasize the unspoken ‘or else.’ Now any sensible pony would have left the family out to twist in the wind at that point, but Mum? She took a job, she had to finish it. She was old fashioned like that.” That last statement from her drew out a small and hollow chuckle from within herself.
“Did they steal from these Ranger guys?” I asked
“They never said, but I figured they did. They were running, so they knew the brother hood was on their tail. They were banking on this being the score that got them Citizenship.” She explained
“What was ‘it’ exactly?” I inquired. It was obviously high tech, but it still peaked my interest.
“Can’t really say, it just looked like a medallion that had glowing lines on it. Didn’t pay much attention to it back then.” She answered. Her face was pretty impassive. To her the ‘stolen’ tech was useless to the story.
“So what happened next?” I urged her on.
“Everything went tits up is what happened. Mum fired one bullet, a singular bullet. That lump of lead hit a grenade on one of the Steel Rangers, part of a set of ten on a bandolier. That poor bloke went up like an exploding sun. Took his buddies with him too. The problem was it took out the rock me and the kid were standing on. We go straight down the mountain side.” Her hooves moved about, pantomiming the explosion and the two falling down the mountain.
“The weather got so bad we had to go into a cave to stay dry. The other kid is freaking out. He didn’t get the hint that his mum and dad were safe and sound. I noticed a little path up to a bigger part of the cave. The storm wasn’t letting up so I figured I’d kill some time while mum got around to finding us. I followed a path upwards, just letting my gut take me wherever felt ‘right’. Next thing I know I pop out of an old rabbit hole, dragging the other kid with me. Only to see Mum and the other two clambering up to me.” She continued on.
“By taking that path I ended up beating them to the city. Ponies clambered around me, in awe at me for some reason. I looked at myself and sure as the rain that was falling; I had a golden compass on my bum. ” She had a wide off look. As if she was staring at something a thousand yards away rather than right in front of her. Her head wasn’t the present.
“So your special talent is your sense of direction, and finding your way.” I assumed, breaking her from her flashbacks. She needed to say more if this was going to work.
“Yeah, don’t get ahead of me though. This story is a double whammy.” She waved
“Go on, I’m all ears.” I gestured to her to continue.
“Anyways, the colt kid was worshiping the ground I walked on. Finally I got to talking to him again and the damned fool popped the question, right then and there! How the heck is a little filly supposed answer that. All I could manage was a ‘maybe later.’ He kept asking, and I kept answering ‘maybe later’. We kept doing that for twelve years before I finally said yes.” Sorbet continued sifting through the nostalgia.
“So the day you got cutie make is also the day you met your husband.” I connected the facts. Jackpot.
“Yep, also the day Éclair was born. Funny how that works.” She admitted, chuckling to herself softly.
“Now that day when your husband fell in love with you. Did he fall in love with your special talent that got him out of that cave and back to his parents? Or the Cutie Mark representing it?” I asked. Her jaw tensed.
“Y-… I… This is your idea of psych therapy!?” she demanded. Fire in her eyes. Though no anger bled through her gaze.
“Did it work?” I asked with a smirk. Her face contorted into a vast majority of faces. Ranging from disbelief, frustration and amusement, before finally settling in a vanquished sigh. And the winner is!
“…yes…” she mumbled, looking off to the side with a slightly defeated expression. I smiled and walked up next to her.
“Good, now if I’m not mistaken; Éclair is playing stick ball with some foals from town. Who is gonna cheer for her if not her mom?” I gave her a little nudge. She looked up at me, the corners of her mouth rose giving way to a pure distilled happy smile. We walked out of the back room together. If only for that moment, there was no sorrow in the world.
--- --- --- --- --- --- ---
The Super 8 whirred as it captured the game in the gardens. The makeshift ball soared past the lens. A filly ran past the bases before finally being tagged out. There were not teams, just kids having a go at how far they could get before getting caught. The same kind of free form play that makes children have more fun with the box rather than the toy inside.
Éclair was up at the plate, a mighty stick in her mouth, ready to strike the foolish ball that dared to try its luck against her. The pitcher, secure in his malevolent cause, set out to remove the mainlander filly from play without her taking a single base. A deathly chill made its way through the ocean breeze. For an eternity, the catcher and pitcher spoke to each other in a sign language only they knew.
A pause before the storm. A moment broken instantaneously by the ball leaving the hoof of the pitcher. The world slowed to a crawl as the ball was in in mere feet from home plate. Éclair drew back her bat. Swinging with the might of a thousand gods. Tornadoes of sand blew out from the attack. The dust settled.
“Steeriiiiiiiike! One!” The volunteer umpire called. The applause of some adults echoed in the gardens.
Words of encouragement and praise from sideline parents filled the air. Accompanied by bemused chuckles as others went about their business. The ball was put back into the pitcher’s hooves. Gameplay recommenced. The air grew close with anticipation. I moved closer to the edge of the balcony. The second pitch flew like a bullet towards its target.
Krackow!
The resounding sound of a broken stick, and a flying ball resonated throughout Steam Town. The ball seemed intent to kill me as it whizzed by my head. Éclair bolted for first base. Several ponies bolted in front of me. I couldn’t see the game.
I needed a better angle. I moved down from the balcony into the gardens. Nearly tripping on the makeshift benches. Éclair rounded second base. The ball was tossed towards the third baseman, but the slack jawed child made no move got grab it. Éclair hit third and was at the home stretch. Shouting and cheering mixed together into a white noise. The catcher attempted to bar her passage by blocking the path to the home plate. Éclair shifted right, the catcher moved right to match her. The two were on a collision course with each other. Suddenly she shifts left and weaves around the catcher with the deftness of a leaf on the breeze. She jumped up and down on home plate, as if to stake her claim of it. The crowd went wild.
Éclair was doing a jig as Sorbet ran to her. The two turned to me smiling. But they stopped. Their eyes glued to my direction. The cheering stopped, the shouting continued. Hoof steps thundered behind me. Ten guards had entered the gardens behind me, weapons drawn and trained on me. I looked over the balconies of the three ships; everyone’s eyes were on me. Everything was still, save a mild flapping near the ramp I descended. My cloak danced in the wind, caught on a jagged edge on a railing. My body was bare for all eyes to see. The world grew quiet, only the waves could be heard anymore. I looked around nervously.
“Heh, heh… Um… Shoo Shoo Be Doo?”
---- ---- --- --- --- --- --- ---
End of chapter
No Significant Level change.
*Author's note*
Be aware that i do re-edit these later, so if you notice grammar/spelling errors, let me know.