The Last Holdouts - A Conversion Bureau Story

by Aedina

The Landing Party

The Last

Holdouts

By Aedina

A C o n v e r s i o n B u r e a u S t o r y

Chapter Fourteen

The Landing Party

Marina was at the helm, forelegs clutching through the wheel. Against all odds she'd managed to hang on through Bonne Chance's aerial upheaval. Her eyes and nostrils were still flared wide and wild from fright.

Marina did her best to take in and respond to what was happening around her. It no longer seemed to matter how she steered. The ship floated serenely on a course that could barely be guessed at. Clouds settled into view as Marina took a long and ragged breath. She leaned up to catch the rope that hung from the ship's bell.

One, Two, Three....pause; and again One, Two, Three! The herd settled down, quieting as they circled around to hear her instructions.

"All passengers and hands, we need assessments, and we need them now. Some of you are already assigned to stations. But frankly, we don't know whether those stations are even There anymore. The Captain and I will be going over our maps of Equestria, and if any of you Pegasi are still feeling up to it, some scouting might come in handy."

Muzzles nodded, and shifting to tasks of inspection and inventory began in earnest.

Marina searched the deck for Smollette and Heskin, and finally found the former cursing pastries at a locked-down chest. He was trying to use a feather-tip to open it's padlock. "Come on you stubborn strudel swirl!", he groused

Marina did her level best to stifle the laughter her captain's remark inspired. "Maybe if you talked nice to it instead, sir?", she suggested. The glare Smollette returned her suggestion with, was almost enough to silence any further levity on her part. Almost. "Or I could give it a good kick", she said, leveling a powerful hind hoof just above the lock's shank.

"Might have you do just that, but I prefer the contents remain intact, and undamaged, at present", he snorted.

Lowering her hoof, Marina gave a little shrug, "Shame. One may assume that in all this, " her gesture indicated the entire vessel, "the key is nowhere to be found?".

Smollette closed his eyes as he took a deep breath, visibly calming himself before replying, "Oh, that, " another breath "would be a fairly accurate assessment. Yes."

"And the object, or objects so desired, Sir? What has you willing to en-peril your pinfeathers?"

Marina's timing on this question could not have been more fortuitous. Smollette had just ceased trying to pry open the lock with a much mangled and bedraggled feather tip.

The captain slumped dejectedly to the deck, eyes closing, once more, in despair, as he barely whispered the words, "the maps".

From Her vantage view in the darkness, Princess Luna watched the birth and unfurling of the magnificent new air-ship. Then, a glow from below caught Her eye. Now climbing back from his descent to the waves, the white maned (and tailed) stallion was pumping his wings for all of his might. The object in his mouth had begun to emit a soft lavender glow, barely detectable in the dark save for the "tug" it produced within the pit of Her stomach. All the pieces now fit, Luna thought, or soon would.

The Princess found Herself unusually excited, the last of the New Foals, it seemed, were already under Her particular care. "Which would be better?", She asked Herself, a grand entrance, or swift and silent incognito? The quieter She could be, the least intrusive, She determined, would give Her the longest opportunity to assess this last and newest of herds. What might She learn? Even She was uncertain, but the chance to soak up what could be gleaned before Her Presence was known was an irresistible impulse.

Luna held back, a moment, then shadowed the laboring stallion. She let a thin silver thread of Her own Magic pull Her along in his wake. It unraveled to join the lavender glow surrounding the canister clenched, by its strap, in his muzzle. Here was Her Word and Bond summoning Her. Before either of them had truly awoken, this eve, and from another Realm, it had begun its Spell. How Marvelous!

Stepping back into the shadows came very naturally to the Princess of the Night. Even so, She took a moment to swing on a dark, hooded cloak, conjure-fetched from her wardrobe. Many an adventure, or clandestine assignation had been secreted away in its silent folds. Feeling rather Filly-ish, Luna muffled a giggle with a fore-hoof, and watched the herd as the stallion landed in their midst.

A tangible mix of reverence and calm shivered through the ponies at his return. Picking up on their reaction, Luna guessed him to be the leader of this New Foal Herd. She hoped he'd speak up, or she'd have to weave a listening spell.

Thankfully he seemed to be accustomed to addressing large groups. His voice was ragged with weariness, and yet it still held a persuading authoritarian tone. At first, he was awkward, but only due to the strap clutched in his jaws. As he let the canister fall, a small, green pegasus colt ducked in and skillfully caught it between his up-swept wings - carefully cradling it out of the way.

"Thank you, Greenwind.", he acknowledged with a head nod. "Alright everypony, are we all accounted for? Any injuries? Difficulties?" . He snorted at his own question, "I mean, beside the obvious, that is?" Oliver scanned the herd for the Captain, or his First Mate - hoping for a clear "chain of command" response from just one pony. Thankfully those around him caught on quickly, and remained quiet, despite the urge to start shouting out "helpful" information.

"Damian? Marina?" "Doctor, Florrie?" from a lumpen huddle on the aft deck, the nurse's voice replied,

Greenwind looked about, answering "She was just here, a minute ago - but I think she went Captain hunting."

All of this was matter-of-factually conveyed as Florrie disentangled herself from a slightly dazed lavender unicorn mare, who remained sprawled on the deck.

"Here, Sir". "All hooves accounted for, and nothing to report so far as I know of."
"This", she said, indicating the other mare "Is our doctor, but I think she's still a little groggy 'round the edges, Sir.

Jeannette knew she was being spoken of, and if her head stopped spinning she might even manage to respond. There had just been a few too many ups and downs tonight, and she prayed to the Princesses that the weather would stay becalmed for a bit. At least, til she'd gained her hoofing. Deep breathes and slow blinks seemed to be helping. Slowly the kaleidoscope of ponies came into clearer focus around her. Netta remembered watching Florrie teach the New Foals how to stand and walk. There was something uniquely different about weight distribution. Using her forelegs as a leverage, she kept her knees straight locked, then a careful small kick of her hind-quarters landed her neatly on all 4 hooves. Her slow smile beamed out as she ceased swaying for the first time since her conversion. "Hey, look, no hands!", she chimed. The ridiculous exclamation took a moment to register with the herd, and then the laughter began to build. Netta bowed her slender neck in acknowledgement of a joke no Equestrian-born pony would ever "get" and withered her way through to stand near Oliver. Whatever he might need of her, was his for the asking - and his sleek coat tickled her muzzle with what promised to be a fine scent when it settled in.

Greenwind balanced the sea-slicked cylinder on his narrow back as the shifting of pony bodies jostled him. He felt the sacred trust placed into his wings, which he held like a cage, encircling and protecting the item from loss or harm. He did his best to stay within sight of Mr. Heskin, who, at least, had the height advantage to track him. Being slight of build was against him, here. Eventually all he could manage was a view of hundreds of rumps. The towering stallion's head was still visible, but significantly out of reach. He was prevented from flight unless he dropped his charge, and that he was more than loathe to do.

An unexpected, but familiar voice startled him as Marina address him from behind, "What'cha got there, Greenwind? The crown jewels?"

"Near enough, " he murmured in reply

"Oh ho?" Inquired the ever-curious mare as she sidled up to him. Occasionally she'd glace behind them. Greenwind followed her gaze, realizing that the Captain was there his head resting upon a chest, looking entirely woebegone.

"Um....?" was the closest he asked to a question.

"Lost the key," was her immediate response

"To?"

Their shorthand conversation echoed many a late night watch at the helm and they fell into it with ease.
"Maps", Marina stated,

"We'll work it out, Florrie, if nothin' else" Greenwind was sure that a solution was within reach.

The canister caught the corner of his eye, once more, as he watched the Captain. Then his whole posture shifted, ears coming eagerly forward. To Marina, he said, "Won't matter!" as he reclaimed his role as the (O.C.P.C.O.D.) Official Cheerful Pegasus Colt on Duty.

Smollette heard the trotting of light hooves approaching. A familiar voice was hailing him. "Sir!, Sir!"
And the next thing he knew he was staring at the almost neon-green hocks of a young pegasus colt.

With effort, he raised his head, "Greenwind?"

"Sir!, "Yes Sir!" His Second Mate crisply answered.

There was usually a wing-tipped salute in that mix, but the cheeky grin was plastered firmly in place. The Captain struggled to his hooves, Marina coming in to lend him a muzzle and a sturdy side to lean upon as he rose.
Something cradled in Greenwind's wings explained the absent salute. Smollette had seen it, before....but the significance just wasn't sinking in for him. He was too tired, too dejected, and off of his bearings to boot. The Captain shook his poll and gave the offending chest a light kick as he wrested himself back into form once again.

"Report!" The command snapped forth.

Greenwind's grin got wider, at that, "Too much, Sir, but leave it for now, I pray...more important matters, if'n you'd be so kind." His still bandaged wing dipped a little, at last giving his First Mate and Captain full view of the canister. A canister surrounded by an argent eldritch hue. Carefully, the Captain reached his muzzle forward and grasped the dangling cord. "Right!, Right you are!" he slurred, as he gave a flap of his wings. He circled up, up, and headed towards the tall stallion at the center of the herd. If that wasn't Heskin, he'd....well, he'd eat his compass, so he would!

Princess Luna felt as if She were watching a play. Each scene acted out, each character sure of their lines. As Her moon began to brighten the sky, rising on the far horizon, She awaited Her own Cue. The tug of Her Gift to Oliver Heskin preambled about the deck, as though unsure of its timing, as well. Shortly She'd have no Shadow to hide in, and (as they say), "The jig would be up".

Luna saw a gray pegasus stallion rise from the back of the herd, canister dangling from his muzzle - and wondered how She'd missed the transfer from the green colt? Even a Princess, it seemed, couldn't keep track of Everything at once.

The magical umbilical cord that connected Her to Her promise was nearly visible in the spotlight of the moon. Even as the canister was returned to the Lead Stallion, the Princess glided forward. As he opened the tube, the enclosed Scroll floated out, hovering for an instant, and then poofed away in brief display of flame and smoke.

It's sudden reappearance was somewhat less anticipated, She had no doubt.

The scroll arrived beside her accompanied by another flare of smoke and fire, and the sound of a chime.
She posed, Her silhouette displayed against the light of Her moon. With a flair of her cloak, She revealed Herself to the Herd. "Didst thou ring?" She inquired, a playful smirk creasing Her ebon features."