Solar Sails: Marooned In Equestria

by Bluecho

09 - In The Brig

Ch. 9 - In The Brig

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“Subject three seems stable, for what it's worth.”

She felt weightless.

“Good news is she'll live longer than her predecessor.”

She felt calm.

“She's even projected to follow orders well.”

She felt...at peace.

“Too bad she's also projected to be a complete failure.”

G7-H3 opened her eyes. Were they talking about her?

Her containment tube held her suspended in a viscus, transparent red fluid, tinting her vision a pale pink. Outside the tube, an entire group of Fatae in pink lab coats stood staring at her, scribbling on clip boards.

One of them spoke up. “Yes, it's too bad about this one. Such promise.”

“Just look at her appearance! Clearly a symptom or byproduct of her abject inadequacy.”

“You're sure we can't adjust some aspect of her to salvage her worth?” asked another scientist, this with close-cropped pink hair. He was handsome too. Or at least G7-H3 thought so.

“Not a thing,” another scientist answered, this one with a pockmarked face and angry scowl. “The data doesn't lie. She'll only be good at committing blunders. Blunders to the third power. Better ditch her at the earliest convenience.”

“Hmm,” said the handsome scientist, “Maybe you're right.”

“Oh please, you lot are so cynical,” said another scientist. His skin was a lighter shade of pinkish brown, and his hair jet black. He adjusted those rose-tinted glasses of his. “I know of at least one area she's projected to excel at.”

“What? Curling in a ball and weeping?” said the pockmarked scientist.

“No...she's perfectly suited for the act of killing.”

The modified soldier's heart tightened like a vice. G7-H3 began to see that the words she could hear were grossly out of sync with the lip flaps coming from the scientists. In fact, she could hear a faint, muffled noise underneath their words. But G7-H3 was in no position to actually understand them, even if their louder words weren't so loud.

“Regardless, in every other respect she's a total waste,” said another scientist. “Flush her down, will you?”

“Very well,” said the handsome scientist, placing hands on a lever. He pulled, and the fluid began to spin rapidly. G7-H3 flailed in glass container, finding no purchase on the slick walls.

She looked out, the scientists seeming to lose interest one by one of the spectacle. Only a single scientist remained behind in the end. One with four legs, a pointed horn, pretty wings sticking from her pink lab coat, and a color scheme of resplendent purple. She frowned, and G7-H3 did her best to scream with liters of fluid between them.

G7-H3 fell, fluid whipping around her. She found her voice to scream for help just as she spun so fast as to lose track of which way was up and which was down.

Sarin Miles awoke with a jolt, sucking air violently. She held the breath for seconds, arching her back and staring wide-eyed into the disheveled hair cover her face. Expelling the air, she released the tension and fell painfully onto her back again. Her breathing continued, hard and raspy.

Rolling over on her side, Sarin reflexively tried to reach up and sweep the oily hair from her face. Only to realize she couldn't budge her hand. Instead it caught on something hard, jingling with the movement. In desperation to see, she flipped her hair out of the way, threatening to deepen a mild headache she suffered from.

She could finally see...see the chains and manacles binding her arms in an iron straight jacket. See the dingy, poorly lit cell she lay in.

Oh. Right. I forgot, she thought, returning her head to the ground and letting her entire body slack. All she cared to notice was the column of light shining through the bars of her window.

After she surrendered, the Canterlot Royal Guard bound Sarin in chains and dragged her out of the Observatory. She hadn't resisted, so their handling (hoofing?) of her remained careful. Gentle even, as though she were a delicate flower instead of a violent criminal. Maybe they had pity on her.

Doubtful, she thought cynically. She grimaced. Pitied prisoners are permitted a full range of motion when it came to their limbs.

They had taken a carriage ride, then transferred to a train car. She managed to peak out the barred windows of the prison car, spying their destination: Canterlot. The shining city on the mountain. Capitol of Equestria. Throne of princesses Celestia and Luna, raisers of the sun and moon. The place where she'd get executed for sure. Or at least she'd thought so.

Instead the guards had walked her through the streets, the first light of day peaking from the horizon. Given that it had been so early in the morning, only a scant few ponies were around to see the bizarre, blotch-faced, bipedal prisoner marched to the castle and into the welcoming arms of its dungeons. How long would it take for word to spread among the gossips of the capitol? How long would it take for her presence to be overshadowed by some other petty news?

Either way, the secret was out. Her stealth mission failed as miserably as possible. Everypony would know about her in time.

The last thing Sarin recalled was being dropped in her cell. She supposed at some point she fell asleep – the previous night had been long. It brought her back to the dream.

Sarin remembered almost nothing from the tube days. Least of all the faces of the scientists who worked on her. Since she was immersed in fluids and behind glass, she most certainly couldn't actually recall what was said merely meters from her developing form.

Stupid dreams, she thought angrily. Even had a pony there. A purple alicorn. Twilight Sparkle? She seemed like a royal figure, but Sarin couldn't rightly remember the pony in her dream that well. I've been here so long I've finally started to dream of ponies.

She humphed, rolling over to her other side. The chains rattled and clinked as she settled facing the door. They weren't even that tight, just uncomfortable to sleep on. Her skin already felt sore. She exhaled angrily, over and over, until she lost the will to bother completely. Then she just lay there, staring at the door.

Sarin stared at that door for an indeterminate amount of time – too morose, too depressed – until a tapping on the metal door signaled a shutter to fly open.

The captured soldier – the POW she thought sadly – stared wide eyed as the face of a guard peered down on her. They locked gazes, then Sarin blinked. Shortly after, the guard hummed curtly and turned away, shutting the hatch. Sarin could hear the clop of coconuts banging together – no, not coconuts. Hooves. Why had she thought coconuts?

Sarin sighed, shaking away the nonsense. He's probably going to inform his fellows that the prisoner is awake, no doubt plotting an escape of some kind. Yes, that's probably his intent. Sarin turned back over to face away from the cell door. She started expelling angry air in bursts again.

She sighed away the last of the bad air minutes later. She tried to shut her eyes and return to sleep when the sound of the hatch opening again startled her to attention.

“The Princess wishes to meet with you,” came the voice behind her back. The hatch slid shut, and the sound of clinking keys and grinding gears followed.

Sarin rolled over again, concerned for the first time since she woke up. Struggling as well as she could to rise to her feet, she stood and looked the guard in the eyes when he opened the door.

He stepped into the cell and placed a hoof around a chain, pulling her firmly forward. “This way.”

A building trepidation in her belly, Sarin obeyed.

She was seated on a padded seat, the guard scooting her forward into her place at a white table. Sarin looked down and grudgingly admired the craftsmanship of it. Crafts-pony-ship? Looking around, she found the room to be modestly sized, and beautifully decorated. One guard stood at either entrance, and two stood around the window to Sarin's right. It overlooked a courtyard, where dozens of more pony soldiers milled about.

Moments later, the door opposite the one she entered opened. Princess Celestia waltzed in.

Sarin Miles was taken aback. When the guard who escorted her said the princess wanted to see her, the modified soldier assumed the guard referred to Princess Twilight Sparkle. Sarin broke into her house, after all, attempting to jack her books. No doubt it had been Twilight who raised the Royal Guard and directed them to the Observatory by the clues Sarin left. Meeting Princess Celestia – Queen in all but name of Equestria – was a possibility Sarin had not foreseen.

It took all her self-control to match Celestia's gaze. Her shockingly genteel gaze.

“Good afternoon,” the princess said, walking gracefully up to her seat. “Or I guess for you it would good morning. I gather you had quite an exciting night.” She smiled warmly, walking around her chair in order to sit down. “I wanted to talk with you after you arrived, but you'd gone to sleep by the time I got to the dungeons, so I decided it was better to let you rest.”

Sarin was paralyzed. Not by fear – justified as that fear would be – but simply by how incongruous this alicorn's attitude toward Sarin was with the gravity of her crimes. Was the ruler of this world really being so nice to an enemy invader?

Celestia noted Sarin's silence, humming to herself. “Let me be frank,” Celestia finally said, tilting her head. “I know you can understand me. And I want you to relax and talk to me. It'll get us both no where if you're unwilling to talk just a little.”

This snapped Sarin out of her daze. She blinked, then shook her head. Taking a deep breath, she looked directly at her captor again and said, “Okay.” Her voice was a touch on the weak side, she noted. How long had it been prior to the previous night's heated conversation since she talked regularly?

“Good! I'm glad,” said Celestia, giving another eerily warm smile. “So, how are your accommodations? The Canterlot dungeons get so little use these days, we hadn't even had time to furnish them. Is there anything you'd like for your cell?”

There were many things Sarin wanted at that moment. A bed to be sure, a simple mattress would do. Wool or cotton blanket. To have her chains removed, replaced with a straight jacket or ropes since the ponies preferred caution. Food and water would also be wonderful. Sarin hadn't consumed any food or taken any water since around sundown the previous day.

“I'm fine,” she said instead.

The rules of reciprocity dictated that when one has favors done on their behalf, reciprocation in some form had to be made. It wasn't mere social convention, but rather hardwired in the brain chemistry of most social species. Fatae were social animals, as were the ponies. An immortal princess with centuries of experience dealing with her subjects would understand this concept on some level at least. Sarin couldn't allow the princess to do her any favors. Celestia could use it as psychological leverage when the real interrogation began.

Can't submit, she thought. Mustn't allow her to buy me. If I accomplish nothing else, I'll carry what I know of the Empire to my grave.

Plus, the Princess could just as easily promise and then withhold the request items, letting Sarin get her hopes up before dashing them against the ground.

“Suit yourself,” said Princess Celestia, sighing. “If you ever need anything, all you need to do is ask the guards.” Her warm smile returned, beaming. She looked over her shoulder, waving to the guard behind her. “Have you eaten lunch? Or I should say breakfast. I don't think you have.” The guard nodded curtly, walking out the door. Another guard came inside after him, taking the first's place.

Celestia turned back to Sarin, smiling again. “While we wait, would you mind telling me about yourself? If it helps, my name is Celestia. What's yours?”

Sarin breathed a sigh of relief. At last, a question she was allowed to answer in the event of capture. “I am Sergeant Sarin Miles. Designated Modified Soldier G7-H3b, of the Fatae Empire armed forces.” It was a practiced statement; she practiced it for hours back in training.

“Sarin Miles, huh?” beamed Celestia, looking genuinely interested. She frowned briefly at the words “modified soldier", but continued nonetheless. “What a lovely name. And a Sergeant? You've done well for yourself.”

The modified soldier groaned unthinkingly. She looked away, frown creasing her face. That onerous honorary rank. The tightness in her chest doubled. It was only seconds later she tried to resume her neutral expression. She failed.

Celestia took notice. “Oh...is that a sore spot? I'm sorry. I have no idea if you have...had...aspirations for something higher. To tell you the truth I can only guess as to how your military ranks are ordered. Forgive my condescension.”

Sarin couldn't stand it anymore. She grunted grunted, hissing air out of her teeth. “Stop being so nice! I know you just want to dig any information out of me that you can, so get on with it!” The guards around her moved closer, spears held at the ready. Noting them, Sarin dropped her scowl and slouched in her seat, not even realizing she'd nearly stood up entirely.

Celestia merely shook her head. “I apologize if I come off as phony, but I'm not just putting on a performance to try to elicit information.” She looked behind to see servants rolling in carts full of food. As they placed plates before the two, Celestia went on, “I really do want to help you.”

Eying her food from the corner of her eye as covertly as she could, Sarin humphed. “Right. What makes you think I need your help.” A glass – complete with bendy straw – was placed next to the plate. It looked to be ice water. The food looked like roasted potatoes, carrots, green beans, squash, and grilled hay.

Celestia seemed to consider the question, but waved a hoof to Sarin. She was urging the captive soldier to partake before she'd answer.

Sarin's thirst was palpable. Drinking the water couldn't hurt. So long as she avoided the food, her show of contempt would be maintained. Unfortunately, her slow sips from the straw turned to strong sucks, and she soon exhausted the glass of liquids.

Only for a servant nearby to trot over and refill the glass. Sarin's cheek flushed as she sucked more water. Her blush grew stronger when her stomach growled, unsatisfied with mere hydration when it wanted sumptuous nutrients.

Celestia stifled a giggle with a hoof, saying, “It's alright, you don't have to restrain yourself. You can go back to refusing my questions after you've eaten. In fact, I daresay you'll need your strength to resist me.” She giggled more fully this time.

That last statement gave Sarin pause, though she secretly took pride in it for the apparent validation of her fears. Realizing the wisdom of her captor-host's words, Sarin bent forward and began gobbling up the warm food. The potatoes, the squash, the green beans, and the carrots all were sampled. All were delicious. She left the hay right where it was. She didn't even care that she was technically demeaning herself by eating the food like a pig ate slop. She simply wouldn't give the princess the satisfaction by being embarrassed.

Besides, she needed to get through the food quickly before asking for clarification. “So when you say resist you...”

“I mean I'll keep nagging you and feeding you and being extra nice until you feel like talking,” answered Celestia. She levitated more food into her mouth to add to the stuff she'd enjoyed while watching Sarin enjoy hers. “My food is good, yes? I wouldn't want to think my chefs shortchanged you because you're my...guest.”

Sarin ignored this, preferring to steer the conversation back a bit. “I asked you before but you didn't answer. What makes you think I need your help?” She tried to look as serious as she could, undermined by the bits of food she could feel was on her cheeks.

Celestia's smile dipped, showing signs of concerned sadness. “You stalked the streets, taking food from garbage or stealing from farms. You broke into my...former student's home. You even took one of my little ponies hostage, forcing him to search for a ship in the sky. If reports are accurate, you were distraught when you found out the ship in the sky had left.” She shook her head somberly. “If that doesn't scream 'I need help', I don't know what does.”

Twilight Sparkle was Celestia's student? Or had been? Sarin suddenly felt glad she hadn't murdered the bookworm at either previous opportunity.

When Celestia finished talking, an official looking pony with a mustache came in from behind the princess and stood by her side. “I'm sorry to disturb your...meeting, Princess. But Day Court is set to resume in eight minutes.” He looked over to Sarin, unimpressed.

The Princess sighed. “Very well.” She rose from her seat, wiping food away from her mouth. “I must unfortunately attend to yet more business today. Please consider all we've discussed, Sarin Miles. I would rather be a friend than an enemy. I'll see you again tomorrow.” With that, she turned and waltzed sadly away.

A servant remained behind to wipe the bits of food away from Sarin's mouth, a service she permitted. That done, a guard came behind and pulled her to her feet. As she was escorted back in the direction of the dungeons, Sarin did consider what they discussed.

That's the problem, Princess. It doesn't matter what you want. You became my enemy the minute I set down on this planet.

Comments

[Dubious]

3763936 Huh, these Fatae clearly have no mind for weapons R&D if all they have is standard steel blades, I'd imagine humanity would have ion pistols at that point, and they'd have a self-contained micro fusion reactor as a power source.

[Bluecho]

3764489 You are correct. The Fatae have massively skewed priorities. They have the technology to cram three separate kinds of propulsion into their space craft, and can genetically modify people to make super soldiers. And yet they haven't developed much in weapon's technology. They haven't developed - or don't use widely - things like tanks or computers or even just ballistic firearms. Some of that is cultural, and a lot of it is being stubborn.

Either that, or imperial government conspiracy.

[Dubious]

3765693 So in essence, if they ever go to war with humanity, we can expect a unified human victory within the year?

[Bluecho]

3767930 An invasion of Earth? Most certainly. Against the entire empire, not so sure. One planet versus hundreds' worth in resources, the Empire outlasts Earth. But in basically every battle until perhaps late in the conflict, human forces with current age weapons would destroy Fatae ones.

Hmm...there's an idea. Humans Vs. Fatae. I'll need to look into that for later...

[Dubious]

3768182 Don't forget, we can wipe out whole fleets with our patented (Probably) Nuclear weapons.

[Bluecho]

3769072 This is true.

[Dubious]

3769444 So basically, we, a single planet, can hold an entire empire ransom if we ever get our hands on one of their ships. Then we'd reverse engineer the technology, apply the technology too our own theories and designs, and say fuck you to anything that can travel slower than three times the speed of light.

[Bluecho]

3769786 Essentially yes. It's a good thing for the Fatae that humans don't exist in their universe. As far as they know.