Jetsam
Thunderlane had always been slow to wake, and was doubly so with a few drinks in him. It should have been easy for him to sleep through almost any disturbance, so he was extremely annoyed when his shipmates managed to wake him up anyway. Sleep was an appealing escape from reality, and he resented being pulled out of it. “Thunderlane?” Vinyl’s voice called. “Thunderlane, say something!”
Octavia’s voice joined her wife’s, saying something about a locked door. Thunderlane groaned and rolled over, pulling his pillow over his head to block out their voices. Whatever they wanted, it could wait. His head hurt where Lyra had brained him the night before, and he was beginning to think that he might have a concussion. It would explain the annoying drone coming from the other side of his pillow.
Oh, right. That was Octavia. “We are out of options,” the first mate said. “With Derpy and Tick Tock unaccounted for, we have no way to unlock the doors. The intruder is trapped, but so are we.”
“What about Lyra?” Bon Bon’s voice asked. “She might still be out there.”
“Then she is most likely dead,” Octavia sighed. Bon Bon’s horrified gasp sounded in the background. “I am not trying to frighten anypony. I simply mean that she would have released us by now if she were able to do so.”
Thunderlane sat up and rubbed his eyes, groaning as his headache flared up. He grabbed a small bottle of pills from a shelf by his bed and swallowed a few. Rolling out of his bunk put him right next to the intercom, and he pressed the “talk” button. “I’m here!” he said groggily. “What’d I miss?”
“Only everything!” Vinyl snapped. “We’re under attack, tyen tsai. Where’ve you been?”
“Sleeping. Sort of wishing I hadn’t woken up. What’s this about locked doors?”
“We’re on lockdown,” the pilot said. “We need Lyra’s authorization codes or access to the bridge to override it. So far it’s just been us and Bon Bon. We don’t know where anypony else is.”
A small, frightened voice squeaked through the speakers. It was so quiet that at first it sounded like interference. “I’m here,” Derpy whispered. “I… I saw him. He’s got an armored spacesuit and a really fancy gun. H-he said he’d hurt me if I tried to stop him, and he tied me up.” There was a barely audible sob. “I let him tie me up.”
“He can’t get to you, mei-mei,” Bon Bon assured her. “Is there any way that you can override the lockdown from the engine room?”
“I can’t,” Derpy said, her voice quickly descending into uncontrollable sobs. “I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. I should have d-done something, but he said he was gonna h-hurt me and I just –”
“Pipe down!” Thunderlane snapped. “Y’all are makin’ my headache worse. If Derpy can’t open the doors, then we wait for Lyra to turn up. There’s nothin’ else we can do, so there’s no use in fussin’ about it.”
The rest of the crew fell silent, apart from the occasional sniffle from Derpy. Thunderlane knew they were annoyed with him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was right, and they would just have to live with it.
Just as they were settling in to wait, a different voice spoke up. “You’ve forgotten about me again,” Vision grumbled. “I’m still here, you know. Even when you aren’t looking.”
“Vision!” Vinyl exclaimed. “Thank Celestia! Look, I know this is a longshot, but I might be able to talk you through unlocking the doors. Are you anywhere near the bridge?” A loud clanking sounded in the hallway above as, one by one, the locks on almost every hatch were released. “Or…not,” she said, sounding equal parts impressed and concerned. “Well done. Hey, do you know how to work the atmo controls? Because I’m really sorry if I ever called you crazy.”
Octavia cleared her throat politely. “Vision, dear? Our door is still locked. Can you open it?”
“I tried,” Vision said. “The flow is broken. There’s a stone in the water.”
“I think we lost her,” Vinyl sighed. “Zhen dao mei. That just leaves Bon Bon and Thunderlane.”
Bon Bon snorted. “They didn’t cover close quarters combat at the Academy. I’m good with my hooves, but not in the way that we need right now.”
“What about Thunderlane?” Vinyl asked. “Isn’t that kind of what we pay him for? I think it’s actually been a while since we let him murder anypony.”
The pegasus rolled his eyes and looked around for his sidearm. “Wish this could have happened when I wasn’t hung over,” he complained. He strapped on his gun belt and trotted to the ladder, but then reconsidered and grabbed his favorite rifle as well. “Shiny,” he said fondly as he patted Vera’s stock. “Come on, Vera. Let’s go meet the neighbors.”
Once he had cleared the hallway, he looked around at the hatches leading to the rest of the crew’s quarters. “Vinyl!” he called. “Can you hear me? The control panel for your hatch is fried. Looks like it got hit by a plasma bolt.”
“That is not encouraging,” Octavia’s voice said over the intercom. “Is there any way to bypass it?”
“Not without somepony on the other side,” Vinyl said. “I don’t think Thunderlane’s going to cut it. We need Derpy.”
Thunderlane gritted his teeth. “Oh, juh jen sh guh kwai luh duh jean jan. It’s just me out here alone, then?” He looked into the bridge, but Vision had already disappeared. It was probably too much to hope that she would be lucid enough to help, but it would have been nice to at least know that she was out of the way. “Derpy, you said he was wearin’ armor?”
“Uh-huh,” Derpy squeaked.
“What about his face?” Vinyl asked. “I bet his face isn’t wearing armor.”
Thunderlane rolled his eyes and trotted down the hallway. He was sure that Vera could punch through whatever fancy suite this mystery pony was wearing. He held her at the ready, and glanced into the cargo bay as he passed. One of the tea crates had been blasted open. Lyra’s going to spit her bit over this, he thought. Assuming she’s still alive, that is.
He returned his attention to the door leading to the galley. A pair of curious eyes peered out at him through the window, and grew wide with surprise as he took aim with Vera.
A blast of full-auto fire blew a hole right through the lock. Thunderlane kicked the door open and took a position next to the doorway. He made certain to stay out of the line of fire, trusting the thick metal of the ship’s walls to protect him.
White-hot plasma ate through the bulkhead and nearly burned one of his ears off. He yelped and fell backwards, returning fire as he scrambled away. “Them ain’t kosher rules!” he shouted. “Newtech guns ain’t fair!”
“Fair fights are for the unimaginative!” shouted a voice with a very refined accent. If Octavia were a stallion, Thunderlane decided, she would sound just like that. Bet he’s got a sissy little moustache and everything. “Throw down your weapon and return to your room!”
“Come out here and make me!” Thunderlane called. Another blast of plasma cut through the wall right in front of his face. This here's a losin' battle, he thought grimly. If I stay out here, he’ll cut me to pieces!
Unfortunately, getting closer would mean that he had to go through something that soldiers often referred to as the “fatal funnel”. Passing through a doorway was risky at the best of times, and right now it felt like a death sentence.
There was no easy solution, so he went with the only one available. Thunderlane took to the air and rocketed into the kitchen, Vera’s muzzle flash lighting his way. He avoided getting bisected by no more than a few inches, and the wash of heat roasted the base of one of his wings. He cried out and dropped to the ground, his back seizing up in agony.
“Tzao gao!” he swore as his wing shook uncontrollably. It was a bad burn, and he knew he’d need therapy to recover from it. He saw the stranger taking aim again, and rolled out of the way just before the floor melted beneath him. “Hold it!” he shouted as he came to rest against the portside bulkhead. “Better put that cannon away, xiaren. There’s nothin’ but the Big Black on the other side of this here wall!”
He had lost Vera in his crash landing, but still had his revolver. He yanked it from its holster while his opponent was still trying to decide what to do.
*****
Lyra woke from her stupor when the intercom crackled to life. “Wake up!” Vision whispered.
The Captain rolled over and looked up at the ladder leading to the rest of the ship. She groaned miserably, holding her head in her bound hooves as it throbbed in pain. “I’m here,” she mumbled, shutting her eyes as the room seemed to tilt beneath her. “Things are kinda fuzzy. Am I dreamin’?”
“We all are.”
Lyra pulled experimentally at her bonds. They were too tough to break with brute strength, and her magic wasn’t up to cutting them. “Thanks for clearing that up. What’s going on? Where are you?”
“We’re playing hide-and-seek again.” Vision sniffled quietly. “Did you see it?”
“It was a tiny stallion.” Lyra blinked as hard as she could, trying to clear her vision. “He was very blurry.”
“It’s not natural. It’s hurting us, and it’s all my fault. I’m sorry, Lyra.”
Lyra took a deep breath and shut her eyes. She tried to block out the rest of the world, and the pain that came with it. “It’s alright,” she said. “You didn’t do anything wrong, little one. This is just a bad stallion that came to do bad things. Doesn’t make much difference who he wants to do them to.”
“Sereneighty can help us,” Vision said. “Can you get free?”
Lyra pulled again at the zip tie holding her hooves together. “I need something sharp,” she grunted. “Something like… oh.” Her eyes fell on a rusty length of iron that sat on her desk. It was one of the many artifacts she had collected over the years. “Hey, how about that? Chekhov was right.”
The Captain crawled over to her desk and gave it a hard kick. The ancient blade rocked back and forth before tumbling onto the floor. Its sharp, jagged edge raked across the zip ties, occasionally nicking her legs when she moved too quickly. “I’ll be free in a minute. I’ve still got my pistol, so-”
“No guns!” Vision ordered. “No touching guns. It’s better to be clever.”
I hate this plan already, Lyra thought, rolling her eyes as she freed her front legs.
Vision huffed with irritation. “Don’t make faces.”
*****
Horte Cuisine saw Thunderlane reach for his pistol, and knew that he had only a split second to act. He then made one of the strangest tactical decisions he had ever considered; he threw his blaster. It was small, but the enlarged battery pack made it heavier than it looked. The titanium alloy frame smacked the pegasus square in his nose just as his revolver cleared its holster.
Making the most of the distraction while it lasted, Horte Cuisine charged the pegasus and planted a hard kick into his stomach. Rather than doubling over in pain, Thunderlane grabbed his hoof and held on tight. He yanked the earth pony off balance and tossed him into the wall headfirst.
Horte threw his remaining foreleg up just in time to cushion the impact, but it still left him shaken. The pegasus kicked his hind legs out from under him and forced him to the ground beneath more than two hundred pounds of solid muscle.
A hard punch bounced his head off the ground, and he saw dark spots swimming in his vision. The next time Thunderlane tried to hit him, he twisted out of the way and delivered a hard kick between the pegasus’s hind legs. His opponent yelped and leaned back, allowing Horte to squirm free and give him another kick to the face for good measure.
Both stallions climbed to their hooves on shaky legs. Neither of them had been expecting such a tough fight. “Gonna break you in two, half-pint!” Thunderlane snarled. “What do you weigh, a buck twenty?”
“You’re not far off,” Horte muttered. He noticed Thunderlane’s pistol lying on the ground nearby, and began edging closer to it. Hopefully the conversation would serve as a distraction. “I must admit that I’m impressed. You’re a very skilled fighter, Thunderlane.”
“How do you know my name?” The pegasus asked. He began walking in the opposite direction, circling like a predator uncertain if it really had the upper hand.
“I know quite a lot about you,” Horte said. “I know about your time on Higgins’ Moon, and the years you spend with Gilda. I know about the little backwater town that you accidentally flooded, and the songs they sang about you afterward for accidentally irrigating their fields. I even know about that pathetic starship you stole before Lyra hired you. What did you ask Gilda to name it? The ‘Marigold Lane’, or something to that effect? A little too feminine for a stallion like you, don’t you think?”
“That’s my momma’s name!” Thunderlane shouted. Horte dove for the pistol, but hadn’t quite gotten close enough to reach it in time. He was dragged away, hooves scraping the floor like a victim in a cheesy horror movie.
When the Pegasus tried to kick him, weakening his grip in the process, he twisted to the side and broke free. He leapt into the air, spinning all the way around before lashing out with one of his hind legs. There was so much momentum behind the kick that it nearly broke Thunderlane’s neck. The larger stallion staggered, eyes unfocussed, and nearly keeled over
Horte pressed his advantage, and hammered Thunderlane’s jaw as hard as he could. Something cracked beneath his hoof as saliva, blood, and tooth fragments flew through the air. He rocked the pegasus back with a blow to the throat and leapt up to deliver another spinning kick, certain that the fight was about to be over.
Using the same trick twice proved to be a mistake. Before his hoof could make contact it jerked to a halt in his opponent’s grip. Thunderlane pulled him forward once again, making it impossible to land properly.
He cried out in surprise as the burly pegasus hurled him into the ground with enough force to knock the wind from him. The ship tilted beneath him as he was lifted into the air again and thrown into the wall. His suite did little to cushion the impact, and he crumpled to the floor.
Not content to let him crawl away, the pegasus grabbed one of his forelegs and hurled Horte Cuisine over his shoulder in a judo throw. The smaller pony felt a rush of vertigo as he was flung across the room. The back of his head struck something hard that cracked from the impact, and the world went dark for a moment
Suddenly, Thunderlane was on top of him. Hooves struck his face again and again, beating him until the strength bled from his body and his struggles weakened. Thunderlane refused to let up, howling curses and threats as he pounded the earth pony into the ground.
Horte Cuisine momentarily entertained the thought that he was about to die. In what could very well have been his last moments, his hoof brushed against something solid. He grabbed hold of it and swung with what little strength he had left.
A frying pan smashed into Thunderlane’s head. It left him disoriented, and he crawled away in an attempt to disengage. The earth pony hit him again when he tried to stand. Horte raised the frying pan above his head, wide-eyed and panting after his near death experience, but Thunderlane didn’t move again.
Horte Cuisine collapsed next to the unconscious pegasus and groaned in pain. Every inch of his body hurt in a multitude of new and unpleasant ways. He felt like his bones had been pulverized, even through his reinforced space suit. To top it all off, He was pretty sure that he had thrown his back out. He hadn’t come so close to being killed in years, and it left him understandably rattled.
The pegasus grunted in his stupor, and Horte frantically ripped open his belt pouch. He jabbed a needle into Thunderlane’s neck with a little more force than was necessary and scrambled away. He came to rest against the stove, noting that the glass in the oven’s door had nearly been shattered by his head. “Gan ni niang!” he mumbled as he waited to see if the huge pegasus was finally down for good.
He would check the rest of the ship in a moment. For now, he needed to collect himself and let his hooves stop shaking.
*****
Derpy was startled halfway out of her mind when the intercom snapped on. “I’m here,” Vision said. “Derpy, you need to get up.”
“I can’t!” the pegasus whispered. “He’ll hurt me if I try to escape. He said he’d-”
“I know,” Vision said soothingly. “You won’t be here when it gets back. If you go through the infirmary and the cargo hold, it won’t see you.” Derpy shook her head, choking back a sob. “You can do it,” Vision urged. “You have to be brave.”
Derpy blinked the tears from her eyes and tried to stop her hooves from shaking. “I’m not!” she argued. “I just fix the engine. I don’t know the first thing about being brave!”
“It’s okay to be scared,” Vision said. “We’re all scared, but we can’t let that stop us. Thunderlane won’t be able to slow it down for long. You have to move now, before it comes back. Find something sharp.”
Derpy looked around the engine room, and one eye fell on her toolbox. “I-I might be able to reach my wire cutters,” she said.
“Good.” Vision sounded very pleased with herself. “I’m going to tell you what to do. Go as fast as you can once you get out. Ticky’s waiting for you.”
*****
Horte Cuisine leaned against something that looked a lot like a dentist’s chair and cursed his luck. That blasted pegasus had nearly pulled one of his front leg right out of its socket. His overconfidence had nearly gotten him killed.
To make matters worse, the mechanic had escaped by the time he returned to the engine room. He was now limping through the infirmary in search of her, thinking that she must have made for the bridge. If she managed to free her friends, he would be in a very tight spot.
His suit’s radio squealed alarmingly with a blast of feedback. “You aren’t supposed to be here, Renaissance Stallion,” a mare’s voice accused. “You’re cheating. Leaving a trail of breadcrumbs for others to follow.”
Horte Cuisine considered ignoring her, but decided against it. There was always a chance that she could be useful if he could find her. “May I ask your name? You seem to have me at a disadvantage.”
“You have no idea,” the voice said mournfully. “I’ve seen what you do. Wish I hadn’t. You’re not right on the inside. You got issues. Sometimes even you can see that you’ve done wrong; the crash, her leg.”
He was surprised, and suddenly a little worried. “Who are you?” he demanded. “Who told you about that?”
The voice was silent for a moment. “Sometimes you wonder if she hates you,” it continued. “She doesn’t say it, but you wonder. The way she looks at you. Her smile. You think she’s afraid. Nopony could ever love a pony like you.”
“How do you know about my wife?” he asked. “You don’t… you’re wrong. Who are you?”
“You’re wrong,” the voice noted matter-of-factly. “Wrong about what you want and how to get it.”
“I most certainly am not,” he said. “Once I’ve incurred the favor of my employer, he or she will ensure that my wife and I are able to disappear without a trace. Nopony will ever bother us again. To do that, I need to find whatever this troublesome crew stole. My friends are on the way, so I’m in a bit of a rush. It’s quite frustrating.”
For a moment the absurdity of the situation made him laugh. “I don’t know I’m looking for because my subordinates wouldn’t tell me. Does that seem right to you?”
“You came here blind. You’re after a mare, but she’s not here anymore. She couldn’t stay. Saw how they looked at her when they thought she wasn’t watching. Everything would be easier if she left, but it hurt to go. Instead, she just melted away. Became a part of her home. They didn’t know she could do that.”
Horte Cuisine frowned, unhappy with this new turn of events. He didn’t like the idea of dealing with a crazy pony, especially one that seemed to know him a little too well for his liking. “I’m afraid that I don’t understand.”
“You came here for me,” the voice said. “I’m not like I was. I’m tied to the ship.”
“Then with whom am I speaking?” he asked.
“Sereneighty. The mare you want and the ship are together now. And, Sir Cuisine? Sereneighty is very unhappy.”
A shiver went up his spine. Horte Cuisine suddenly got the horrible feeling that he was being watched, and turned around to make sure that nopony was sneaking up on him. “She’s also unhealthy,” the voice continued. “She belongs here now, but it still hurts. Can’t be trusted or controlled. She’s dangerous, like you. She’s going to have to leave now. Sereneighty will bleed, but she will heal.”
“Very well,” he said. “Let’s assume for a moment that you are, in fact, what I’m here for. Where can I find you?”
“The cargo hold. I’ll be your bounty if you let the others live.”
Horte Cuisine limped down the passageway, pistol held at the ready in case somepony had prepared an ambush for him. He highly doubted it, but it was better to be safe than sorry.
He was relieved to see that his caution was unnecessary; there was only a small figure in a space suit waiting for him. She was standing near the airlock, watching the stars through the window. He trotted closer to the mystery pony, scanning the area for any signs of a trap. He wasn’t quite jumping at shadows, but this ship and its crew were quickly pushing him in that direction.
“They’re pretty,” said the familiar voice. “It’s empty out there. Quiet.” She turned to face him, her helmet reflecting the pinpricks of light outside.
He wasn’t sure at first why he thought of Sorbet. The two mares looked as different as two ponies possibly could without straying into the grotesque. The only thing about her that he recognized was the cold, resigned hopelessness in her eyes.Therein lay the resemblance.
Sorbet had looked at him in exactly the same way when he’d met her for the first time. She had been a complete mess, covered from head to hoof in soot and engine oil. The grime had been so thick that he could hardly see her beneath it. She has been lying in the mud, her leg badly broken, and waiting to die.
That day had been the first and only time in his life that he felt guilt. It was a very foreign emotion, and he found that he really didn’t like it. He had done a great many terrible things in his line of work, but it was almost unheard of for his conscience to complain. He supposed that there was something very wrong with him, but the thought had never bothered him as much as it probably should have.
In the present, the mare’s eyes went wide with shock. “You’re more lost than I am,” she said. Horte Cuisine took several seconds to snap out of his daze. When he did, he noticed a cable clipped to the mare’s belt. The other end was hooked into a recess on the floor. “Told you,” she said. “Tied to the ship.”
A siren sounded as a warning light flashed above the cargo door. Horte Cuisine frantically searched for his helmet, remembering that he’d left it in the crate that had been used to smuggle him in.
As he ran for the pile of tea crates, he saw a different mare standing at a control box on the other side of the room. Lyra grinned at him, her hoof ominously tapping a lever. A thick cable attached to her belt tethered her to a hook on the wall meant for just that purpose. “You wouldn’t believe how much trouble we have with stowaways around here,” she said, and yanked down on the lever with all her might.
The cargo bay ramp groaned as it began its ponderous descent. Horte Cuisine lunged for his helmet, and barely managed to grab it before a powerful wind kicked up. The ship’s gravity was suddenly shut off, and he went tumbling across the room at a dizzying angle.
The growing maw of darkness drew closer, and he frantically tried to secure his helmet. The seals locked into place just as he smacked against the ramp’s edge, and a hiss of compressed air let him know that it was safe to breathe again. He used his first breath to curse, and his second to praise the goddesses that he was alive.
His mission was probably a failure, but he would live to fight another day. Spitfire would pick him up soon, guided by the tracker in his suite. He would have some explaining to do, but it was a small price to pay for his own survival.
*****
Vision stood at the ramp’s edge, anchored by the magnetic boots of her suit. She watched the stars with detached curiosity, not unlike a clinical observer examining insect specimens. Lyra stood silently next to her, but then again everything was silent with no atmosphere. “That was a fine bit of thinkin’ you did,” the Captain said. “Good thing we turned off the intercom before the doctor could mess it up. You should’ve seen him; I think he was about ready to run down here and stop you himself.”
“He meant well.” Vision looked down at her hooves. “Miscalculated. I said some bad things. I hurt his feelings.”
“I don’t think he had that many to hurt,” Lyra chuckled. “Really, though. You did well.”
Vision looked at her, happiness warring with caution for control of her face. “Permission to come aboard?”
“You’re already aboard,” Lyra said. “You know something? You’re not quite right.”
The earth pony nodded. “That seems to be the general consensus.”
The Captain put one of her forelegs around Vision’s shoulders and pulled her into a clumsy hug. “Go on, little one,” she said. Vision’s smile became a little more genuine. “Go and give your brother a thrashing for almost messin’ up your plan.”
“He takes so much looking after,” Vision sighed. She stomped across the cargo hold, planting her hooves to make sure that the magnets had a good grip before lifting one of her other legs. She flipped a lever to shut the cargo ramp as she passed. Before it could close all the way, Lyra tossed out a small metal cylinder with a blinking light on one end. The tracking beacon spun out into the Big Black and was soon lost among the stars.
Lyra couldn’t hear the mechanism as the ramp locked shut, but the floor vibrated beneath her hooves. “I think we’re done here,” she said into her radio, switching to a public channel. “Derpy, we could use some air. Get Vinyl to check our course once you get her out of her bunk. That gust might have given us a push in the wrong direction.”
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I highly enjoyed this chapter. The way Vision's dialogue is slightly more menacing and a bit less insane gives it a dark undertone that really seems to push her into the " I may be crazy, but I know what I'm doing" area. All in all, loving the story.
Enough comments that I can reply to several at once!
3967674 I'm glad you enjoyed it! Man, this was an important chapter for me. Lots of stuff had to happen. Also, I agree; Vision/River always scared me a little, no matter how adorable she could be.
3845932 I waited a while to reply, but I'm super glad to hear that you like it.
3915177 I sort of already responded to you, but thanks again. We'll learn just a little more about Applejack later. She may not have had much of a choice
3967713...
"excerpted"...
3969027 "Yeah, hi, It's me. The real me. Uh, chariots chariots. Listen, it looks like there's another me commenting on my story from an alternate reality. He's kind of a Dark Pen? Ugly little guy, scraggly beard. Anyway, could you guys do me a favor? If you see that guy... could you punch him in the throat for me? But make sure it's him, not me. Otherwise I'll kill all the characters you love.
YOU GUYS I'M LIVING THE DREAM HERE OHMIGOSH I LOVE CAVE JOHNSON.
Must READ! I love Firefly and naow it has PONIES!? This sounds epic
I hate that this fic has so few likes. The ratio is great, but it has nowhere near the following it should have for the quality and enjoyability of the read. Anyways, good job on making a top-notch crossover.
4035998 4002169 I love comments like this. I'm not ashamed to admit it
Thank you both! Likes are nice, but I love hearing what people think more than anything else.