To Fillydelphia
The next three days were relatively uneventful.
Their first order of business was reattaching the Orithyia to the iceberg. They worked slowly, limited by Rainbow Dash’s bruised and bound ribs (one of which Nutmeg suspected might have been broken, but that would’ve meant she couldn’t fly for five to seven weeks, so obviously it wasn’t broken). It took most of the rest of the day, but by the time the sun neared the horizon the severed anchor cables were replaced, and Nutmeg began the process of setting out lanterns for the evening.
When he was done he offered to play chess or gin, but Rainbow Dash was busy sulking, and so had to decline. She slept in the crow’s nest beneath a cotton blanket so she wouldn’t have to share a room with him.
By the time the sun rose the next morning, she realized what a stupid pony she had been. Of course Nutmeg had returned her library books – as an officer in the Equestrian merchant fleet, he had sworn an oath to uphold Equestrian law while sailing the high skies, and that meant enforcing library codes. After the fight he had helped bind her ribs, and offered to detour through the nearest town with a sizeable bookstore to purchase her own copy of Daring Do and the Lost Lantern of Lith, which she had refused because, really, what was the point anymore?
But now, staring at the cool orange sun floating off to the east, she found herself wondering how, exactly, Daring Do had escaped from Cinnabar’s tomb, and she sighed. Perhaps she would never know.
Also, she realized, sleeping in the crow’s nest was amazingly uncomfortable. It made the hammocks feel heavenly by comparison.
Nutmeg was in the galley/kitchen/storage-room/only-room-large-enough-for-them-both-to-sit when she made her way belowdecks. There was a bowl of steaming oatmeal in front of him, and another across the table waiting for her. The faint scent of honey rose from both.
“Good morning,” he said. “Sleep well?”
She sniffled. “No.” Also, it seemed she was getting a cold. Wonderful.
“Hm, you sound a little hoarse.” He set his spoon down and rose to walk over to the kitchen’s hot water spigot. “Want some tea? I have some of the pomegranate left.”
She sniffed again and wiped her snout with the back of her hoof. “Yes please.”
The rest of the day wasn’t so bad.
* * *
The second day consisted of slowly hauling their iceberg ever closer to Los Pegasus.
Nutmeg insisted Rainbow Dash spend the day resting in her hammock. Rainbow Dash insisted on carrying out her normal duties, albeit with a warm blanket draped over her shoulders and a thermos of hot tea, occasionally refreshed by Nutmeg, in her hooves.
They played chess again that night. The scratch in the back of Rainbow Dash’s throat had evolved into a full-blown cough by then, and they passed the games largely in silence. She no longer had to ask again about the rules or how each of the pieces moved, and sometimes minutes stretched out between the turns while she pondered the lay of the board. She thought one or even two moves ahead, and during their last game she found herself considering the entire board, how it was controlled, and for a brief moment something like a real strategy began to bubble in her mind. She turned it over in her brain, awed, and it wasn’t until Nutmeg cleared his throat that she realized nearly ten minutes had passed since his move.
She ended up losing. But for the first time, when the game ended just as many of Nutmeg’s pieces were lined up beside the board as hers.
“Very good, Miss Dash. Another?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Nah, feeling tired. Thanks though.”
“Of course.” He flipped the board over and began putting the pieces away. “You know, we can try to find a book on chess strategy the next time we’re in town, if you want.”
She blinked. “They have books on chess?”
“Uh, yes? They have books on everything, Miss Dash. Well, most everything.”
Huh. No wonder Twilight Sparkle was so good. She’d probably read every book in the world, so obviously she knew all about chess. There was no way Dash could ever read every book in the world – she was a busy pony, after all – but she could read every book about chess, certainly.
The inklings of an idea began to condense in her mind.
* * *
Rainbow Dash’s butt was glowing when she woke the next morning.
She was a bit groggy, even more so than usual first thing after waking. The cold had settled into her chest and snout overnight, and she spent the night tossing and turning, half-awake, floating on the edges of sleep. She dreamed the air was made of hot cotton; she dreamed of spiders in her lungs. She dreamed of nets that bound her legs and wings into a sea of boiling tar, and when she finally woke she found her limbs tangled in the hammock.
It was barely four bells, but there was no use trying to go back to sleep. Her bladder insisted on getting up to use the head, so she grumbled and snorted and coughed her way out of the hammock and up onto the deck, back the way aft, and used the facilities.
It wasn’t until she was done that she realized the faint glow around her wasn’t just from the lanterns – her cutie mark was glowing, pulsing in time with her heartbeat. She stared at it, dumbly, for several moments, until her mind at last made the connection.
“Oh, right, the map.”
* * *
“So, this is an Element of Harmony thing?”
Rainbow Dash sniffled. “Uh huh.”
“It just… starts glowing like that?”
“Yup. And then we go somewhere and solve a friendship problem and get ice cream and go home.” Her nose was stuffed worse than the time she’d broken it while wrestling with Applejack back when they were young teenage fillies, and as a result her words sounded nasally, honky and dumb. Like a… goose pegasus. She frowned again.
“Do you need to go back to Ponyville, then?” Nutmeg had his navigational charts spread out on their little dining table. “I don’t like the idea of you flying like this.”
She waved a hoof. “I’m fine. I’ve flown with worse. I flew from Canterlot to Ponyville and back with feather flu, once!”
“That’s, uh… Isn’t feather flu highly contagious?”
“Oh, now you sound like those doctors. What a bunch of boring eggheads.”
Nutmeg looked like he wanted to respond, but at that moment a bright green flash lit the dim interior of the Orithyia, blinding them and filling their eyes with dancing purple blotches. Rainbow Dash felt a wash of heat on her coat, and the faint scent of sulfurous smoke managed to break through the cupfuls of snot clogging her snout.
Nutmeg cursed and jumped away, sending his stool clattering to the floor. Rainbow Dash, who had seen all this before, simply waited for her vision to return before picking up the slightly singed scroll waiting on the table.
“Sorry, dragon mail.” She popped the seal off the scroll and unrolled it. “Figured this would happen.”
Dear Rainbow Dash,
I apologize if this scroll woke you. As you may have noticed by now, the magical map in my castle has selected you to resolve a friendship problem.
Rarity’s cutie mark is also glowing, and the map says the problem is in Fillydelphia. I think this could be another fashion-related friendship crisis. If so, it will be the fifth one Rarity has been called upon to solve, and I’m starting to think the map might be defective.
Alternately, ponies in the fashion industry might simply be more prone to friendship crises than other ponies. This is an unresolved question in the field of friendship studies, so any information you can gather in Fillydelphia would be very useful to my research.
Rarity’s train departs for Fillydelphia in a few hours, and should be there in three-day's time. She’ll be staying at the High Step Hotel in the garment district.
On a separate note, I want to say how sorry I am that things with the overdue library books came to a head like that. Now that the books are back in the library’s possession and your fees are paid in full, I’ve reinstated your library privileges so you may check out new books whenever you like.
Your friend,
Twilight Sparkle
Huh. Rarity too? Rainbow Dash chewed on her cheek while she considered the letter’s implications. They had worked together in the past, but it was always a fraught partnership. Having ponies like Applejack or Pinkie Pie in the mix to act as a moderator usually helped, but it didn’t sound like that was going to be an option time. Wordlessly, she passed the scroll over to Nutmeg.
He read it with a furrowed brow and watering eyes, and when he was done he passed it back. “So, you have to go to Fillydelphia?”
“Yeah.” She brushed a bit of dusty dragonbreath ash from their tabletop map with her wings. The little model sailboat that marked the Orithiya’s position was only sixty or so miles from Fillydelphia. “It’s lucky we’re so close. I can make that flight overnight.”
“Why go yourself?” he asked. “This Miss Rarity won’t be there for three days, according to the letter. The Orithyia can make Fillydelphia in two.”
She chewed on her cheek. “What about you, though? You need to get this ‘berg to Los Pegasus.”
Nutmeg raised his wings in a shrug. “I get paid either way when I arrive. Besides, I owe you. If you hadn’t fought off those pirates, I might never have made it to Los Pegasus.”
That seemed pretty reasonable. But… “Wait, they weren’t pirates, they were privateers. And they only attacked us because of me.”
“Well, that’s technically true, yes,” he conceded. “But what if they had been pirates, Miss Dash? I’d have been helpless without you.”
Rainbow Dash frowned and considered that logic. It seemed sound, and she was pretty awesome, so it checked out. Finally, she nodded.
“You’re right,” she said. “I guess if you want to come to Fillydelphia, that’d be cool. But I’m warning you. Rarity can be a little… uh, intense.”
* * *
Rainbow Dash’s butt finally stopped glowing an hour or so later, for which she was grateful. It was frankly distracting, and she kept catching Nutmeg sneaking glances in her direction while they worked in the rigging. A lesser mare would’ve teased him about it, but Rainbow Dash was used to ponies staring at her in awe, so she simply smirked and went about her business while subtly stretching and preening and otherwise showing off. She finally stopped when a particularly brazen pose caused something in her ribs to click, and she fell into a pained hacking fest that ended with her wings tangled in the rigging while she dangled upside down. It took them both working together several minutes to get her out.
It took nearly six hours just to turn the iceberg toward Fillydelphia. Most of their flights were like this; slowly accelerating the icebergs, which then tended to cruise along at whatever speed they set on the way to their destination, followed by several hours spent slowing the iceberg down. Assuming Nutmeg did the math correctly, the iceberg would glide to a slow stop right above whatever city had ordered it.
She could already see it, if she looked closely. On a clear day, from her spot in the crow’s nest ten thousand feet in the air, her eyes could easily cut through sixty kilometers of distance. But this was the height of summer, and the humid haze of a muggy dog day turned the horizon into mist. The normally sharp division between land and sky was gone, replaced by a colorless fog, through which she thought she might dimly see the blocky rise of Fillydelphia’s towers. Or perhaps that was her imagination.
The Orithyia’s engines changed their pitch, ramping up from a low grumble to a high whine. The airship shifted beneath her, and it gave another sharp jerk when the lines connecting it to the iceberg drew taut. Behind them, she heard the iceberg creak and groan as it began to inch along their new path.
She was so engrossed in their destination that she failed to notice Nutmeg climb up beside her. She gave a little shriek when he suddenly sat down beside her, followed by a coughing fit that left her snorfling miserably on the rail.
He patted her back. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, yeah, fine.” This cold could not go away fast enough. “Orders?”
He shook his head. “The lines are holding nicely. Engines are purring. I can keep watch if you want to soak for a bit. Might feel better.”
Hm, a nice hot soak in the tub did sound like a winning plan. She fluffed her wings at the thought, but shook her head. “Maybe in a bit. My shift doesn’t end for another hour.”
“Shifts are negotiable with the captain’s permission, Miss Dash.”
“Yeah, but, then you’d have to do my work for me.”
He shrugged.
She snorted. It was meant to be a dismissive snort, the kind Rarity used when she wanted to let Rainbow Dash know she was disgusted by her behavior but not offended enough to go through the effort of speaking, but apparently that took more practice than Dash thought because it ended up sounding like she needed to sneeze real bad.
Words it was, then. “Yeah, no. I’ll finish my shift, thank you.”
“Very well, would you like some tea, at least?”
“Eh, fine.”
* * *
Nutmeg brought them down to around a thousand feet of altitude for the approach to Fillydelphia. Enough for the iceberg to easily clear the tallest buildings, but not so high that they would have to detach the Orithyia in order to dock in the city.
A thousand feet was low enough for Rainbow Dash to make out individual ponies in the streets below. Fillydelphia was a crowded metropolis, proud of its dense nest of skyscrapers and bustling business districts. Elevated train lines cut the city into quarters, which in turn were broken into blocks by thousands of tight streets and broad avenues. Parks and greenery dotted the outskirts of the city, but those slowly gave way to concrete and asphalt toward Fillydelphia’s heart, until in the city center only steel and glass remained.
It was pretty impressive, if Dash were being honest with herself. Not as large as Manehattan, or as exalted in its architecture as Canterlot. But Fillydelphia gave the impression of an engine, or of a wheel spinning wildly around its gyre, growing closer with each turn to an explosion. The city radiated energy, a boundless, uncontrolled enthusiasm for the future that surely, here among these skyscrapers, was waiting to be born.
Nutmeg was at the wheel, making careful adjustments to the wheel and pedals, so Rainbow Dash left him be. They were getting enough attention from ponies on the ground as it was without banging their ship into one of the skyscrapers.
There were other airships in the sky with them, but they all gave the Orithyia a generous berth. Curious pegasi swirled under and around them, and a few even tried to alight on the airship itself. Rainbow Dash busied herself with chasing them away.
Finally, they crossed the center of the city, the spires of the tallest skyscrapers passing a hundred yards beneath their keel. Windows turned opaque with frost as the iceberg flew overhead, and flakes of snow drifted from it in an endless stream, briefly reversing the calendar and bringing a fragment of winter to the city. Pegasi swarmed beneath the iceberg, their wings pumping to keep them aloft in the tremendous downdraft of cold air flowing from the glacier’s surface. Further out, pegasi rode the newly born thermals high into the air.
The High Step Hotel was the tallest building in its section of the city, the ‘Garment District,’ Twilight had called it in her letter. Huge, blocky factories lined the river flowing through the district, and a peculiar stench rose to greet them. The dye works, Rainbow suspected. It smelled like industrial-grade soap.
The High Step Hotel had a modern zeppelin dock on its spire, and Nutmeg maneuvered the Orithyia to within a few dozen yards before cutting the engines. Once they were drifting free, Rainbow Dash grasped a thick anchor line and flew down to wrap it around one of the tall brass pilings that lined the roof. Moments later, Nutmeg came sliding down the rope to land beside her on the walk.
A uniformed dockmaster was waiting for them at the tower’s base. He tipped his hat as they approached, and opened the doors above the reception desk.
“Afternoon, friends!” he called over the wind. “We’re glad to have you docking at the High Step Hotel. Parking fees are one bit per dry ton per day.”
Nutmeg fished his coin purse out of his vest. “Very good. The Orithyia is twenty tons dry. Miss Dash, how long do you think we’ll be here?”
Rainbow Dash stepped away from the tower’s edge. They were still thirty stories up, and their iceberg was attracting quite a bit of attention from the ground. “Oh, uh, maybe three days? Depends how fast Rarity can solve this problem.”
Nutmeg nodded and counted out sixty bits. The dockmaster slid them into a tray beneath the desk, then cleared his throat.
“Of course, there’s the matter of your cargo,” he said. “How much does that iceberg weigh?”
Nutmeg frowned. “Well, I never measured it, but based on its size… maybe four million tons?”
The dockmaster winced. “That will be fairly expensive, then. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather park it outside the city?”
“Wait,” Rainbow interjected. “Is the price based on weight, or mass?”
He tilted his head. “I’m not sure, it’s never come up.” He pulled a thin binder out from under the desk and flipped through its contents, finally settling on an appendix near the back. “Ah, here we are. Fees are based on the dry weight of a ship or attached cargo, which is defined as a ship’s weight after the removal of any buoyant gases.”
“Well, the iceberg masses four million tons, but it’s weight is zero,” she said. “Otherwise it wouldn’t float.”
The three of them turned to stare up at the iceberg overhead, which was indeed floating. A small blizzard of snowflakes drifted down from it, slowly accumulating on the iron tresses around them.
“Fair enough,” the dockmaster finally said. “No charge for the iceberg. Looks pretty, anyway.”
“That it does.” Nutmeg smiled up at the Orithyia. “That it does.”
* * *
“Hi, uh, we have a reservation for two ponies, but we need to add a third,” Rainbow Dash told the hotel receptionist. “It might be under Rarity, or maybe Elements of Harmony?”
The receptionist flipped through the pages of her binder. “I’m sorry ma’am, I don’t see one under those names. Is there another it might be under?”
“Try Rainbow Dash. Or maybe Twilight Sparkle?”
More page flips. “Here we are. Princess Twilight Sparkle, two ponies, for one week, starting tomorrow. Will the princess be with your party? We have a special suite set aside for royalty.”
“Nah, I don’t think she’s coming.” Rainbow Dash spared a glance over her shoulder at Nutmeg, who was standing near the wide picture windows looking out onto the street. Nearly an inch of snow had fallen from the iceberg, and foals outside were tossing snowballs at passing carriages. “Can you get us the room starting today instead?”
The mare consulted another binder. “It looks like we can. Will all three of you be sharing one room?”
“Uh… one sec. Hey, Nutmeg!” she shouted for her partner. “Do you want your own room?”
He trotted over to join them, resting his hooves on the counter with her. “I’m not sure. How does Miss Rarity feel about that sort of thing?”
“Eh, she’s a bit of a priss.” Rainbow turned back to the receptionist. “Better add another room, starting tomorrow. One is fine for tonight.”
The receptionist nodded and made a little mark in her book. “Alright, got it. I can even give you a little discount on the second room, since your iceberg is saving us on air conditioning.” She passed two sets of keys across the counter. “Fourteenth floor, room 1404. The bellhop will be glad to help you with your luggage.”
Twenty minutes later they were up in their room, enjoying the view from midway up the building. Their window faced west, away from the city center, so they had an unobstructed view of the city receding away from them into the gentle hills that lined the far distance.
“Big city,” Nutmeg observed. “Lots of ponies. How will you know which one has the friendship problem?”
Rainbow shrugged. “I dunno. We always just seem to trip over them before. I’m sure we’ll find ‘em, though.”
“Sounds good. Dinner?”
“Yeah.” Rainbow smooshed her face against the glass, trying get a view of the streets far below. The setting sun was turning the falling snow an interesting shade of orange, but the streets below were blue and white in shadow. “Dinner sounds good.”
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Ah, skyscrapers with airship docks. That glorious dream of the future that transpired, like, one time before people realized it was a really stupid idea. Awesome, but stupid. Made a point of visiting the Empire State Building's airship dock level when I was in New York for Bronycon '12 because man, you gotta do some things.
This is completely off the topic of the story, which continues excellent. I very much enjoy the malfunctioning Map.
6780191
It's only a stupid idea because we've yet to make airships that are practical enough for economical shipping and transportation. (And skyscraper docks that would actually work.)
Anyways, I suspect that the map is working perfectly, and Rarity has been treating the early symptoms of an incoming fashion-friendship apocalypse. Don't forget your hats, everypony.
I just love Dash's internal voice in this story.
It appears that shipping loads of helium balloons would be great when you need to park somewhere.
I didn't realize Rainbow Dash coming down with a cold would be cute, but it is. Also, good thinking on her about the iceberg! I think Fillydelphians will enjoy their brief winter, too.
What a fun story. Two thoughts from me:
1) I suspect air icebergs are a product of Windigos, still active far to the frozen north and feeding off Yakyakistan.
2). I totally agree with Rarity, Rainbow X Nut is a great idea.
6780191
6780536 The fashion industry is getting worse and worse, and one lone agent can no longer contain merciless milliners and the cruel couture of the haughty haberdasherie. Princess Twilight should use her Letters of the Marque to organize some sort of police force with fabulous batons.
Rarity's gonna play matchmaker when she arrives isn't she? With Rainbow and Nutmeg sharing a room, I doubt Rainbow would hear the end of it.
Cute, fun story so far. I can't imagine what the friendship problem would be like, but I do think it's going to be a fun ride as we get there.
Well, Rarity tends to make a big deal out of little things. Maybe the rest of the fashion industry is the same?
I can't help but wonder if this story is at least in part for you to decompress from Salvation.
its*
Hey, I ain't gonna argue with nature. It'd be a losing argument.