//------------------------------// // Chapter Two: Ciedan Rising // Story: Above the Clouds // by Luyten //------------------------------// CHAPTER TWO Closer and closer the ceiling (or wall, depending on how you looked at it) grew as I raced up and away from my problems and source of all discomforts. I suppose there’d be a few ponies I’d miss, but oh well, life goes onto better things. I wonder if they’d even kn—what the hell is that noise!? A flurry of flashing red lights and a metronomic beeping filled the cockpit as something—or rather somethings swarmed over my radar. Then, an ancient radio crackled to life: “This is Ciedan Traffic Control, identify and reduce speed to two-zero-zero meters per second.” I set the throttles to zero, and hovered a few kilometers from the city in question, wondering what to do, and in that time, traffic control hailed me again. “Unidentified spacecraft, you are trespassing in Imperial airspace. Set course for one-seven-niner immediately.” Now it was time to panic. I picked apart the cockpit looking for the registration papers, or something that would let me know the designation. “This is your final warning. Set course for one-seven-niner, or you will be met with deadly force.” Whoever said that sounded very sure that I would be reduced to nothing more than dust. Aha! I scrambled for the radio and nearly had a heart attack. “Hello, Ciedan Traffic Control! This is Gutamaya November Romeo Tango, sorry for the delay. Had to find my papers, my apologies.” I wasn’t a very religious changeling, but I felt this situation needed some divine help. The radio crackled and there were a few moments of tense silence before the tower responded. “...Gutamaya November Romeo Tango, acknowledged. Set course to zero-six-six, maintain five thousand meters. Contact Ciedan Ground Control when approach is two thousand meters.” I wracked my brains for a scrap of what I learned in flight school all those years ago last year. Weren’t you supposed to repeat back instructions? I think so. “Roger that Ciedan Traffic, course is zero-six-six, maintaining five thousand meters, and I’ll contact Ground Control at two thousand meters from gear down.” “Roger that, Commander, good day.” Wait. Commander? It appears I’ve just skipped the frying pan and jumped right into the fire. The worst thing to do right now would be to bail, since I’ve already had one near scrape with death, I’d like to limit myself to only one close encounter a day. Fearing the worst, I complied with their instruction and flew to a little more than two kilometers from the cloud-city. “Ciedan Ground, this is Gutamaya November Romeo Tango, requesting permission to land.” Almost immediately, I got a reply, “Gutamaya November Romeo Tango, you are cleared for landing, please proceed to pad one-alpha.” And this is where I knew I fucked up. Pad 1A was reserved for special guests. Like high-up military officers. Like the Commander of the Imperial Navy. I suppose it won’t be that bad…I’d get first-rate service, some respect, and maybe, just maybe a chance to fly a Clipper…or a Cutter…ooooh yeah flying a ship that’s ten times the size of mine right now…that sounds awesome! Either way, I’ll have to land first, so I might as well get it over with. “November Romeo Tango, approach is good, distance is five-zero-zero meters. Ground crew is on stand-by.” “Roger that, Ground Control. Gear is down, speed is five-zero meters per second.” “Acknowledged. This is Ciedan Ground Control, over and out.” I wiped some sweat off my brow as my dainty little Eagle settled on the docking pad, barely even scuffing the dust on its surface. I took a glance out my starboard window and sank lower into my seat. I really didn’t want to do this. Here goes nothing! A hiss and small amount of trapped condensation accompanied the small flight of stairs that extended from the front landing gear. As promised, there was a team of five or six ponies waiting with a fuel line, an oxygen tank, and some systems to check all of the diagnostics of the ship, like the frame shift drive, thrusters, shield generator, power distributor, weapons, et cetera. I stood off to the side as the techs ran their tests to make sure nothing was wrong, and when they left, a mare came and showed me into the spaceport. “Welcome, C-Commander, I’m L-Luyten, and I’ll be taking you to your quarters. How are you enjoying our b-beautiful city so far?” The mare stammered. I paused to pretend to look around and be amazed at their city. “It’s very nice,” I finally said, “and where will my ship be stored? I’m assuming I can’t just take up a landing pad for more than a few minutes.” Luyten looked taken aback (which I totally didn’t get),” O-Of course you can leave your ship there! Unless you want it moved to the governor’s private landing bay.” Now I was the one who went slightly into shock. I can do that? “Just…do whatever’s easier in the long run.” I stammered. Fuck, this was harder than I thought. Surprisingly though, nopony’s played the whole “oh-you’re-a-changeling-get-away-from-me” card yet. Huh. Maybe I wasn’t looking hard enough. I started examining the faces of all the ponies, nocturnes, griffons, and even other changeli—oh. That’s why they don’t think it’s weird. I’ll have you know that I am a self-certified genius. I was distracted form my internal ramblings by the sound of my Eagle’s drives spooling up and then the already familiar clanking and pneumatic noise of the landing gear retracting. “Luyten? What are they doing with my ship?” I tried to project my apparent authority over everypony, and I think it may have worked a little too well. The grey-ish blue mare started and rambled into a personal radio. I didn’t quite catch what she said, but I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of her tirade. I wondered what happened to the timid mare I just met not minutes ago, because I would not have expected this from her. Seconds later, my little Eagle was perched on its pad once more, and we continued on our way. “I’m so sorry about that, sir--…er, Commander!” Luyten blurted out. I waved a hoof and cut her off. “Trust me, I’ve had enough “sir” and “Commander” to last me four lifetimes, just call me Venture.” I laughed. I definitely would not have been laughing if I’d know what would happen next. The first thing I noticed was the blinding pain in my muzzle. The second was that I was on the ground, and that there was a pony on top of me. I squinted my eyes and noticed that this pony was wearing an Imperial Navy uniform. With epaulets. And a stylized eagle with wings branching on either side of it emblazoned on the right breast. Shit.