Bedrock

by RazedRainbow

I

Part One: Clasts

I

The bag looks like any other. We made sure. Just another saddlebag at a cafe on a street maps often forget. Give it a second or third glance and you still could not tell its contents could shake the core of the world. A landslide of unrest and retaliation tucked under plaid stitching.

It rests now. Like the street and the fog and Uncle Malachite hours and miles away. I run a hoof along the bomb. So much work and planning for nothing. Thankfully. I had no doubt Rainbow would not go through with it, but there were times as the carriage rolled by where I had a hoof resting on my shootstick. Waiting. Hoping.

But it had been a silent afternoon. No explosions, no shots, just the typical chatter of Canterfolk and the occasional whimpering from an embraced couple no one batted an eye at. Only I paid mind. From coffee and lecture to hugs and finally retreat off into the crowd. They were lucky I did. They had forgotten the package.

Blending in is always easy. I reached the table before the waitress could return and notice her patrons had forgotten a bag. I dropped a couple bits near their check once I had managed to get up in a chair and scooped up the bag and waited. The waitress eventually returned, primed to either fuss out or lead me to another table, but one glance of the wheels beside me ceased her tongue. She asked if I want anything, and I answered, “Just a minute.”

She left, and here I sit. If she returned I did not notice. The only thing I noticed was the bag resting on my lap. All Rainbow had ever wanted, primed and ready, forgotten just like that. Was it really that easy?

Haystack’s hooves cut through the silence. I do not see him, but he has a canter that is unmistakable. Rapid and jumpy, like pebbles dancing along a riverbed. He is a block away and coming fast. He shoots right past the cafe with his shadowed muzzle fixed straight at the rooftop. I tap a forehoof against the table. The space of the street ricochets the clank just enough times to hit his ears. He turns, jumps, freezes, smiles, frowns.

“Thank Celestia.” He collapses onto the chair across from me. His chin bounces on the tabletop. I hug the bag to my chest. A simple bounce would not blow this cafe but you can never be too careful. He stares at it as well. “She backed out. Thank you, Applejack.” Eyes dart to the water glass sitting on the table. He sniffs and frowns. “Could’ve picked a bar.”

“The bars were too crowded.” I place the bag on the table. Haystack’s baby, Haystack’s problem now. “Someone might get curious.”

He nods and lifts the flap of the bag and then nods again. Maybe a second glance would reveal a world and flame, but no. All those mugs of coffee-laced whiskey and hours pacing around the den of his house had lead to nothing. His grin is nearly infectious. His immediate frown is. “You didn’t report back.”

“I covered.”

“Yes,” he says with a shake of his head, “but you didn’t come back, Maud. She left. Mission aborted. Come home and have a drink. But I wake up, and you’re still not back. I thought you’d gotten yourself arrested. You know how many damn bits guard bribes cost us last time?”

“Nobody bothered me. Nobody noticed.”

“And I was supposed to know that?” He sighs and takes a sip of water, then downs the rest in a single gulp.

“I wanted to make sure the package was contained.” Haystack had never discussed what to do if Rainbow Dash had changed her mind. All he managed to mumble was a few words about ‘fire at who’s still moving.’ I am not going to leave a bomb where some distracted colt could peek inside.

The words strike true. He stares into the empty glass. His frown remains. “You could’ve still brought it back to the house. Off the street, out of danger.”

He is right. I could have. I should have. I stayed here anyway. I do not know why. “I’m sorry.”

“Forget it, let’s just get this damned thing in the past.” He walks around the table and grabs my wheels. Time and time again I tell him not to. I can handle transfers just fine, but Haystack gets protective when angry, and he has every right to be peeved tonight, so I do not argue as he wraps his hooves around my torso.

“One,” he says. “Two.”

“Three,” I finish. I shift my forehooves and lean forward and he takes care of the rest. I hear the familiar clunk of dead hooves on metal.

“Sorry,” he mutters. What for, I did not notice. I turn to help with the straps but Haystack is an old pro by now. My hind legs are secure in the harness before I can get my forelegs steady.

Haystack leads the way, the could-have-been end of Malachite the Younger—potentially Equestria—draped over his sides as though he was cantering home from the market. “Think any of the bakers are open this late? Or is it ‘this early’ right now?” He chuckles but does not smile.

“No.”

He groans. “Well… this is a celebration worthy of only the week-old bread anyway.”

My stomach rumbles. “Good enough.”

Laughter echoes in the still dead street. It is a song I had thought I might never hear again.

I close my eyes and let it carry me home.

Comments

[ClockworkMage]

Package containment. Responsible.