07 - Chapter Seven: Scotch and Sandwiches
Chapter Seven
Scotch and Sandwiches
[ENTRY REDACTED] - 2560 EC
My heart skipped a beat as I read and reread Fritter’s message. I had hoped that by fleeing the PC I might have been able to leave my problems behind me. I’d disappear and the whole thing would resolve itself. Granted, I’d never be able to return, but at least I’d be safe. So much for assumptions. The Pegasus Bureau of Justice wanted me found, and now one of their deputies was on the station.
I had to run, but I had a problem. It had nothing to do with the fact that my ship was still detained in the repair docks—as far as I knew the repairs were almost done, if they hadn’t been completed already—no, my problem was a destination. If I ran, where would I go?
I fled to this sector because I knew the local government wouldn’t cooperate with the Pegasus authorities, or at least so I’d thought. The relationship between the EPR and the PC had been heated for centuries. I found it hard to believe that they would willingly work together to find a petty fugitive. But then again, the Sandwich Corps had always been known for being resourceful; they probably didn’t even need help. When I left Luna six, I chose the EPR because I didn’t know of anywhere else to go. Now I couldn’t stay here either, but I had no other options. I could have tried another station, but with the officer following me, it wouldn’t take her long to catch up, and I was damn sure that anywhere else I went, I wouldn’t have a network to rely on.
Hiding was the next option, but it had the same issue. Hiding would imply that I knew where to hide. Even after living here for two weeks, I could barely navigate the station without my WAND, much less find someplace to hide. There were the slums, but that was a bad idea for obvious reasons. In the few weeks after Clip and Daisy died, the slums became a war zone. Word of gang violence and killings had flooded the news channels, the radio, and practically every media outlet on the station. The gangers were leaderless, and all of them were trying to get a piece of the underworld, one bloody chunk at a time. And the police? They didn’t care. From what Joe told me, the authorities had decided to let them fight it out. ‘The problem was resolving itself,’ or some bullshit like that.
The only option I had left was to ask for help, but who could I trust? Could I trust Fritter? Logically, yes. Fritter’s business was information, and he made a good living making sure people got the information they needed at the right time. I counted it good fortune that he thought of me as enough of a friend to give me a heads-up about this. But he was out because of his location. Running around public places asking for help is asking for trouble, especially since the pony I’d be looking for was the one who told me to run in the first place.
Could I ask Nightshade? Fuck no. While Nightshade would know more ponies who could help me, anything I asked him for would probably land me in an even larger shitstorm. If I never saw him again it would be too soon.
That left Joe. I needed advice, and he was kind enough during my time here to always point me in the right direction or so it seemed. Could I trust him? I didn’t know. What I did know was that he made a mean breakfast, and he was always happy to lend an ear during the slower hours. He might know what to do. It was a risk, but I felt it was probably a good one. Joe always did seem happy to see me, regardless of my situation. I decided that was what I’d do.
---
“Hey! It’s my favorite customer!” The barpony said with a sunny smile. Over the past two weeks I’d been giving him 10 bit tips for his services. I figured if it saved my flank once, it might again. Good habits. “The usual?”
“Not right now, Joe, I’ve got a bit of a situation.”
The barpony paused in his polishing, raising an eyebrow. “Oh? What’s the problem? Eightball trying to take you out again?”
“Not exactly,” I said. I reared up onto the countertop dropping my voice as low as possible. “Do you have time to talk in private?”
I should mention at this point that the bar was completely empty. Joe gave me a look as if I was high on crash.
“Maybe,” he said slowly, putting away his cleaning rag. “whadd’ya need to talk about?”
“Something that I’d rather not have ponies walk in on.”
Frowning, Joe set the glass down on the bar counter, and indicated the back room with a jerk of his head.
“Back here.” He said. Joe opened the counter for me to slip by, and I followed him into the back. He led me into a small break room. A microwave sat on a counter next to a coffee maker and a pile of filters. One of the cabinet doors was missing, a spilled bag of coffee grains hiding just out of sight. Joe helped himself to the pot of coffee. He offered me some, but I politely declined. He sat down at the small round table across from the counter and I sat in the only other chair available. It must have been missing a foot or something, because it rocked unsteadily.
“Alright,” Joe said, sipping his coffee, “what’dja get yerself into this time?”
After the chaos on-board the cargo ship, I spent a lot of my waiting time at Joe’s, specifically for meals. Joe had the best damn food I had ever eaten, though, I admit I’m comparing it to prepackaged meals from the grocer’s and hospital food. His food was better than Fritter’s, that was the important part. His breakfasts were the best. During my meals, I told Joe all about what happened with Nightshade. I don’t know if he really cared, I was just another customer after all, but he seemed interested at the time.
“Remember when I told you about that trouble I had in the PC?” I said, fidgeting in my chair.
Joe looked thoughtful for a moment.
“Yeah, I do.” He said.
“I think it’s about time I told you the full story.”
I told him everything, I told him about the murder, the mix-up, my escape, and how I ended up with a starship of all things. Then he surprised me.
“Yep, that’s about what Fritter told me.” Joe said, taking another sip of his coffee.
My eye twitched.
“You already knew?”
“I don’t make my living ignoring other ponies’ problems, Horizon. Fritter said you might come to me after you got the message about your trouble. Shocked me, I’ll say, but after what you pulled down-under, I figured it was only a matter of time.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, ya haven’t exactly been maintaining a low profile, if you know what I mean.” Joe chuckled.
Sure I had! I just had to start a gang war to get my WAND back! And also blow up a cargo ship. Oh.
My realization must have shown on my face, because Joe started laughing.
“Yer dense, ya know that?” he chuckled.
I couldn’t find a reason to disagree with him. I buried my head under my hooves while my face burned.
“Now what do ya need me to do?” Joe shifted in his seat, taking another sip from his coffee cup and setting it down on the table between us. I took a moment to compose myself.
“I need advice.” I said.
“On running?” he asked.
“On hiding.” I sighed. “The Bandit is still in the shop, and it’s not going anywhere until Nightshade tells the reppers to release it.” As far as I knew, Nightshade could have called them at any time, but he didn’t just so could dangle my freedom in front of me in the face of some new threat—the bastard. “I was hoping you knew someplace I could go?”
Joe straightened in his seat, chewing on his cheek while he thought over my question. His expression was unreadable. For a moment I thought that I had made a mistake in coming to him.
“So, that’s it then,” he muttered. “Well, my first suggestion was going to be get off the station, but since that’s out, I guess you’re shit outta luck.”
Face, meet table. Nice to meet you table. I groaned.
“Almost.” He added dryly. My ears perked as I looked up at him hopefully.
“See, there’s this place I know down near the slums that should be empty. A fella I knew used to go around making deliveries and came here after his shift. Got himself shot up one day on his route. As far as I know his place is still clear. You could probably stay there till we figure out what to do.”
While I didn’t want to head back into the slums again, that sounded better than nothing.
“That sounds perfect. How do I get in?” I asked.
Joe smiled as his horn glowed, levitating out a keyring and swipe card from one of his pockets.
“Don’t drink and drive.” He chuckled.
---
The news had said the situation in the slums was bad. What they didn’t say was just how bad. As Joe and I made our way through the lower levels to find the vacant apartment, I got to experience the situation for myself. It didn’t seem so bad at first. Each corridor was as empty as the next. It wasn’t until we had crossed several levels that I realized what the lack of ponies meant. Before the gang war, these corridors used to have the occasional passerby, somepony going about their business, or another. Now, everything was empty.
Then we entered the slums.
Our even pace stopped. So did my heart.
Sweet Discord, father of chaos.
Blood, bodies, barricades, the slums had become a graveyard. Smears of blood tracked long lines across the ground where bodies had fallen and been dragged through the corridors to form barricades of dead gangers, a warning to all who might dispute the territory. The long corridors had been turned into kill zones, forcing us to find long, winding detours over several levels, bringing our progress to a slow crawl. Twice we had to hide, dodging into stairwells and closets to avoid the roaming patrols of gangers searching for more victims. Exactly once, we tried to negotiate our passage. We were lucky they simply said no.
To say I was scared was something, but this... I felt numb, and number still that I was to blame for it.
“Don’t you go thinking like that.” Joe told me after a particularly bad section, “I know you might feel responsible fer all this, but know this: it was gonna happen sooner or later. You were just a convenient excuse.”
I wished I could have shared his opinion.
Eventually, we found our way through. We skirted the worst of the fighting and managed to find our way into the lower residential areas without much more trouble. We finally stopped in a section that looked like it hadn’t seen ponies in months. For all intents and purposes, that was probably a good thing.
“Here ya are,” Joe announced as we stopped in front of one of the apartments, “home sweet home.”
“Home sweet home,” I echoed uncertainly.
The door didn’t look like anything. Apart from the number above the door console, it looked like every other door on the station, utterly average and completely unremarkable.
“I know it may not look like much, and it ain’t, but it should be better than stayin in them tuck’n’rolls.”
Joe swiped the keycard through the slot and the door opened begrudgingly.
“That should do it.” He said, stepping aside. “Stay here and you’ll be just fine. Just don’t go wanderin too far from here. This place is dangerous, especially recently. I know these corridors might seem empty, but you never know when one of those patrols might come strolling by looking for salvage, or victims. Got it?”
“Got it.” I nodded.
“Good.”
“Say, you wouldn’t know who is looking for me would you?” I asked.
Joe shook his head.
“Naw, but Fritter probably does. I’ll send him your way once I get back. Just sit tight for a while till we get things sorted.”
“Right, thanks Joe.”
“Don’t mention it. Though, I reckon yer gonna owe me for this one.” He laughed.
I owed a lot of ponies a lot of things. It was probably going to get me killed sooner or later.
“By the way,” he continued, “you packin?”
“What now?” I asked.
“Weapons, ya got one right?”
My sheepish grin told him everything he needed to know. Joe groaned.
“Son, you are gonna give me a migraine at this rate. Alright,” he fixed me with a serious look, “I’m going to have Fritter bring you a weapon later on and I want you to keep it on you at all times, ya hear?”
“I...um, don’t know how to use one.” I admitted lamely.
Joe stared at me, his expression softening ever so slightly.
“Well then, Horizon, I suggest you learn right quick, because this here’s the real world. Here, there’s blood. You can keep living in that little bubble of yers if you want, but if you’re gonna survive, yer gonna need to learn how to protect yerself. I can’t say much for whatever damn luck you’ve had so far, but if you don’t learn how to fight... well,” Joe sighed, “It’s gonna bite ya.”
“I’ll... remember that,” I said. “I promise.”
“Damn well you better. Take care now.”
“You too,” I replied.
Joe left. As he disappeared around the corner , I couldn’t help but think he had a little lead in his step. Silently, I stepped inside the abandoned apartment.
---
The apartment was still furnished, but in the absence of care, a thin layer of grime had settled over everything. The air stank, smelling strongly of mildew and rot. The utilities, however, appeared to be working. I flicked on the lights and took in the sights.
The apartment was a single room flat, a step down from the one bed, one bath deal I had back on L6-C, but in much better condition. It looked like a standard studio. Near the door, a small counter space sat next to an immovable refrigerator and freezer combo, amid a modest pantry and, of all things, an antique toaster. It took only a few minutes to figure out that the pungent odor came from the fridge. The food inside had long since rotted, and had probably grown some new, lethal strain of indigestion.
The rest of the room held a dining table with several wide stools, a sofa and small television set. A fish tank sat in the corner next to the sofa. The fish were dead. A small, open bottle of fish food sat next to the tank amid a scattering of food flakes. The sofa smelled like old potato chips, some of which peeked out from between the sofa’s cushions.
Nosing around the room, I took an inventory of the apartment’s supplies. The pantry was not well stocked, and I decided the refrigerator was better off closed. The previous occupant looked to be on the verge of another grocery run before his untimely end. There were only a couple boxes of cereal left, plus maybe a cup of flour, some sugar and salt, and a half-empty bottle of vanilla. I figured whoever lived here previously was just about to go get groceries. In the back of the pantry, I found a prize. A bottle of fine scotch was tucked away inside an unopened gift basket, a paper note attached to the bottle labeled ‘For you: Rainy Days.’
I stopped as I saw the note, then, curiosity piqued, I untied it from the bottle to get a better look at it. It was a letter. I unfolded it and started reading.
Hi Rainy!
I know it’s been awhile since we last talked, but after our last trip out to the mall, I just wanted you to know that I had a great time. I normally don’t get to go out very often, so it’s refreshing to be able to spend a day with a good friend.
Now, I know it’s been a few years since the accident, and while business still isn’t quite back to normal here at the shop, I want you to know that I don’t blame you for what happened, not in the slightest. I’m just glad you were there to help me through it. That’s why I’m giving you this. To thank you for being there. Save it for a Rainy day! Hee hee!
Keep your chin up! Oh! And congratulations on your promotion! You’ll make management in no time!
Yours in Love,
Gem Shine.
I set the letter down on the counter, feeling cold and dirty.
I had just invaded someone’s home, someone’s life. Granted, it was a life that was gone, but it was a life nonetheless. One day, this pony didn’t come home. Perhaps a fellow victim of circumstance, or simply a cruel twist of fate. And here I was, raiding his pantry. Feeling guilty, I put the scotch back in the gift basket and tucked it back into its place. The thought of it, however stayed with me.
What if it was me? I thought.
What if I died? I certainly could have over the last two weeks. A single thing gone wrong and I could have asphyxiated out in space, been vaporized in a sparkle drive accident, got fried in my escape from L6 or got shot in the Daisy Dawn’s lounge. Hell, the number of times I could have died during the cargo ship fiasco I didn’t even want to count. Maybe I was luckier than I gave myself credit for. Or maybe not, considering that I was still only a half trot ahead of a jail cell. Rainy Days had run out of luck. When would I?
I sat down on his sofa, feeling the lumpy cushions, beaten into a pulp after years of abuse, shift underneath me. The sofa sagged under my weight, the center bar had broken at some point. Part of it jabbed me in the gut, forcing me to adjust my position. It felt a lot like my couch.
I missed my couch.
It was stupid really. Of all the silly things I could think of, I chose the one thing that mattered least: My couch, my old rotten apartment, my nasty bottles of warm cider and canned dinners, my shitty job, my long hours in space, despite everything I hated about my old life, I missed it. I missed it all.
This place was similar. Rainy Days lived a life like mine before he died. Granted, his living situation was a little bit nicer, but all the pieces were there. Crappy, dangerous job, check. Love life...well, maybe I could improve on that. His apartment, though, it was just a place to crash, nothing more, nothing less. It was just like home.
It felt like home.
I laid my head down on the cushion and wept.
---
Hours passed. I slept through most of it. I don’t remember what I dreamed of—probably flying.
I was awoken by a knock at the door.
“Hey, you in there? It’s Fritter.”
Groggily, I rolled onto the floor from the sofa. The rest had done me some good, at least for my spirits, anyway. I walked to the door and keyed the door control. When the door opened, I blinked. Two ponies stood outside. Fritter and Joe smiled back.
“Plus one.” Joe added with a warm smile. A small brown bag floated next to him in his TK. “I thought you might like somethin to eat, so I went ahead and built a sandwich on the house.”
I accepted it gratefully, setting it on the counter with my mouth while the other two stepped inside. Three seconds in, Fritter started gagging.
“Holy hell! What died?” Fritter’s face wrinkled as he waved a hoof in front of it to disperse the smell. I suppressed an urge to sniff myself.
“Aw, come on now, it’s not that bad.” Joe laughed, taking a seat at the table.
“It’s moist! Ah fuck! I can feel it clinging to my mouth! Eugh!”
“Oh suck it up. It’s just the refrigerator.” I said
“I think that’s what he’s tryin not to do,” Joe chuckled.
After they had settled I asked,“You had something for me?”
Fritter snorted. “Yeah, though from what I hear you’re going to need a bit of help using it.” He poked around in his pack and pulled a weird-looking object. It took me a moment to recognize it.
“Is that a-”
“Yep!” Fritter chimed, “Standard mark one energy pistol. It’s a low caliber, but it can still bite. And it should be able to integrate with your WAND if you have the right program for it.”
“That must have been expensive.” I said.
“Not really.” Joe said, “The right vendors have these kinds of things real cheap. It’s the targeting program that’ll cost ya.”
“So how much do you need for it?” I asked wearily.
“This one’s free.” Fritter said
I hate this place.
“Let me guess. You want me to do you a favor.” I said. Both of them grinned at me. They looked like hyenas staring down their prey, or timberwolves.
I sighed, resigned to my situation. I wasn’t going to get out of this by myself anyway. “Alright, what do you want me to do?”
Fritter spoke up first. “Well, Joe and I got to thinking, and we thought, hey! we could use a free ride now and then.”
“And since you just happen to have a working starship, we figured, heck, might as well ask you.” Joe added.
More like you realized you could manipulate me into doing it. I thought darkly.
“Please tell me there’s nothing more to it than that.” I groused.
Joe put a hoof on my shoulder. “There’s nothin, honest to betsy. It just helps us out too.”
“You’re sure?” I said. “You don’t have any secret suicide missions planned, or anything like that?”
Fritter gave me a weird look.
“Why the hell would I do something like that? I just want to go see some family!”
“An I jus need to pick up a shipment of rainbow whiskey.” Joe added.
“My last job was to pick up a shipment of apples.” I deadpanned.
Joe whinnied. “Yeah, well, uh...heh, can’t win ‘em all, right?” he chuckled.
“So, whiskey and a free trip. Anything else?”
“One thing.” Fritter said. “We’d like to help with your situation.”
I blinked. They what?
“You want to do what?” I asked, incredulous.
“We want to help ya get out of yer trouble.” Joe said.
“You don’t have to do that you know.”
Fritter shook his head. “Nah, Joe and I talked it over. We both agreed that we want to see you get cleared.”
“B’sides,” Joe added, “who’s going to get me more whiskey when my shipper’s in jail?” He chuckled. “It’s what friends do.”
Friends.There was a novel concept, yet, one I thought I could get used to. They wanted to help me, actually help me, rather than just use me. Well, granted, they were going to get something out of it, but their intentions...they weren’t like Nightshade’s. They honestly wanted to help me.
I smiled. It felt...good. though the mention of jail got me thinking more of the problem at hand.
“Is...that even possible?” I asked, feeling doubt creep in. One doesn’t simply walk into the PC and get someone off the hook. First, there were channels you had to go through, and second, it was unheard of. Pegasus law was a convoluted mess.
“Maybe, but we’ll have to get you off the station first, and away from your tail.”
“Do you know who it is?” I asked.
“Yep! I talked to her.” Fritter said
“You what?”
“Don’t act so surprised Horizon! I’m one of like, six pegasi on the entire colony. We aren’t exactly popular you know, or hard to find, given our...uh, ehem, appendages.” Fritter’s wings fidgeted. “Anyway, I’ve met the mare lookin for ya. Though, she’s a bit of a bitch.”
“Wait,” Joe interrupted, “Is she a white pegasus with a silver mane? Oh, and one of them weird thingies on her head?”
“Yeah, that’s her.” Fritter nodded.
She’d brought a WAND. Great. And probably military grade too.
“I know her, she dropped by my bar just after I got back.” Joe said.
“She didn’t follow you down here did she?” I said, alarmed.
Fritter’s eye twitched. “I don’t know...” he muttered, aghast.
“We weren’t. Or at least, we shouldn’t have been. Most authorities know better than to go running through a warzone. Now I dunno about these uh... sandwich corps? Did you call em?”
“PBJ.” I clarified.
“Yeh, that. I dunno about them but I figure most would have better sense than to go running about down here.”
That wasn’t very comforting, but there was no sense dwelling on it.
“Alright, so where do we go from here?”
“Well,” Fritter said, rubbing his chin with a hoof, “first we have to get you off the station. If she hasn’t found you yet, she’ll find you soon. The faster we’re off the station, the better.”
“Alright then, suppose we do that, what do we do after that?”
“Well if you’re up fer a trip to the core we could bounce around the asteroid colonies while we get things sorted out.”
Just then the door opened.
“Or, you could explain to me why you’re planning a trip and I wasn’t invited.” Nightshade tromped into the room.
The three of us shot up from our seats.
“E-Eightball?” Fritter sputtered.
“Nightshade, what are you doing here?” I said.
Fritter glanced at me in surprise.
“What am I doing? What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Nightshade shouted. “You didn’t really think I’d let you run off without paying back my favors did you?”
I’ll admit, the thought did cross my mind.
Nightshade smiled. “Not that you could anyway. The repair docks won’t release the ship unless I say so.”
Well, buck.
“So here’s what you’re going to do. You’re all going to sit down, and you’re going to explain to me just why you’re planning on leaving on such short notice. You’re also going to tell me why I was just interrogated by a PC operative.”
“Nightshade, I can explain.” I started backing away as Nightshade advanced on me.
“Oh I’ve had enough explained to me already, Horizon. Murder? Really?”
Fritter stepped between us.
“He didn’t do it, Eightball.”
“I didn’t ask you.” Nightshade spat.
“Well then I’m telling you. Shut up, and sit down.” Fritter ordered. He held the pistol in his hoof. Nightshade’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
“You sure you want to do that, broker?” Nightshade growled.
Instantly Joe was between them.
“Woah now! Calm down! No need to get yer manes frazzled!”
Fritter slowly lowered the weapon.
“That’s better.” Nightshade said. Fritter grunted a response.
“Look,” I interrupted, “yes, I’m wanted for murder, but I didn’t do it. Before you found me I had just gotten out of the PC by the skin of my teeth.”
“Alright. Let’s say I believe you,” Nightshade levelled. “If you didn’t do it, who did?”
“I-” I started thinking, but honestly, I never had an answer in the first place. “I don’t know.”
“Tch.”
“Well, now that’s out in the open what do you say we work on solving the problems instead of creating more eh?” Joe offered. Nightshade glared at him, before sitting down.
“Fine.”
---
The four of us walked in a loose group, as Nightshade led us to the repair docks to get the Bandit. Fritter kept close to me, sneaking glances between myself and Nightshade, while Joe brought up rear.
“So, Nightshade, huh?” Fritter asked me under his breath.
“Yeah, and he’s a real tool,” I replied.
“So I’ve gathered. Interesting.”
“What is?”
“Just that I’m going to have to make some trims to my network, that’s all.”
“You’re going to look into him?”
“Maybe,” he whispered back, “but for right now I think I need to find some new informants.”
“Why is that?”
“I’ll tell you later.” He assured me.
We kept walking until we reached the entry into the main hangar. As we crossed the blast doors into the hangar proper, weightlessness returned. I drew a breath at the abrupt change in confinement. Free space, everywhere. Even in the ozone riddled air the sensation of looking up, and up, and up felt liberating. Living in confined spaces for weeks on end doesn’t do a pegasus any good. It’s against our psychology. We need space, and I needed this.
I tried to fly, only to be stopped by fritter, who pulled me back down with his teeth and shook his head at me.
Crossing the dock proper, we stepped out onto a network to platforms overlooking the repair yards. Ships were everywhere, some being worked on by the reppers, while others sat unattended on the side. Despite being the repair deck, the dock was still packed. Ponies and and non-ponies of all different types clogged the platform some having conversations with the repair crews while others went about their business. It must have been a combination dock, judging by the number of ponies. Some of the ships were in very good condition, confirming my assumptions.
Another tree caught my attention, though this one looked sickly. I shook my head at the ridiculousness of it.
Nightshade led us to a squat building near the far end of the platform along an intersection between the normal docking and the repair section. A sign marked it as the repair office. Nightshade stepped inside to speak with the manager while Joe excused himself to use the restroom.
I stood outside with Fritter, nervously tapping my hooves on the deck while both of us scanned faces in the crowd, trying to find my tail. There were a few white ponies among the crowd, but none with a silver mane that I could see. there was one other pegasus in a flight suit, but he was the wrong color, and more importantly, the wrong gender.
“He sure is taking a while.” Fritter remarked as he looked in through the office window. Nightshade stood at the desk, talking with the manager and filling out some forms. I guessed favors didn’t include paperwork.
“It’s only been ten minutes.” I remarked, still scanning the crowd for any sign of trouble. More ponies were drifting about the docks. Standing here was simply making me more nervous. I spotted another pegasus entering the docks from the catwalk back into the station. Female, but wrong color.
“Isn’t there anywhere else we can stand?” I asked Fritter. “Being out in the open like this is really making me nervous.” Two white ponies, one with a sky blue mane, the other grey stood at the far end of the platform. The grey one was a unicorn. “Can’t we, like, wait inside?”
“You can disappear inside a crowd, you can’t disappear inside a building with only one exit.” Fritter said.
“And since when were you an expert on disappearing?” I said.
Fritter simply smiled.
“I’m back. Where’s Eightball?” Joe said.
“He’s still inside.”
“No he ain’t.” Joe replied, as he looked through the window. I leaned over to peer inside the repair office.
Empty. No manager, no Nightshade.
“You think they went around back?” Fritter asked me.
“I don’t kn-”I scanning the crowd again. My eyes locked on a particular pony. Aviator glasses, silvery mane, white coat, flight suit, wings, and she was watching me.
Fuck.
“What’s wrong?” Fritter asked, looking over in the same direction.
“Mare with the aviators, is that her?” I asked. Joe turned his head to look.
I glanced back at the mare. She waved and mouthed a greeting with a big smile.
“Yep! Time to go!” Joe pushed me around the corner of the building as Fritter took to the air to run intervention. The pegasus mare shot after us and then stopped mid-flight, caught in Joe’s TK. I kicked off from the deck and flapped my wings, looking back in time to see a flash of light followed by a crack and a pained grunt.
“Go! Go!” Fritter yelled, wheeling back to intercept her. I beat hard, heart pounding in my ears as I shot across the platform toward the jumbled mess of ships in the repair yards.
Frantically I looked for my ship amongst the others, feeling a sense of panic set in when I couldn’t find it. There had to be at least two hundred ships docked, all in various states of repair, with reppers fussing over them with arc welders and... was that a sandwich?
Crack.
Instinct told me to dive. A bolt of electricity snaked past me. I glanced behind me in time to see my pursuer come streaking after me. I beat for my life, several angry shouts following me as I bowled through a group of workers busily fixing a damaged barge. My head whipped left and right as I looked from ship to ship, trying to find the Bandit or some form of cover.
“Hey there stud! Where you goin?” The pegasus called from a short distance behind me. Her WAND was glowing, a small translucent reticule floated in front of her eyes as she aimed down the barrel of a very nasty looking rifle. I changed direction, beating for the edge of a small shuttle. Another bolt followed, this one striking the ship a mere foot behind me. The pegasus swore. I looped around the edge of the ship and shot for a cruiser docked just below it.
“Dude! What?” A surprised repper yelled as I buzzed past him. A flash and crack and he yelped, twitching spastically as his body seized.
Oh, Joy. A stun gun.
I beat down below the cruiser and rolled, kicking a nearby toolbox into the air between me and my pursuer. Tools spilled into the air as the box rocketed away. I veered off toward another ship. The officer tucked and rolled, grunting as she slammed into the box at high speed. Cheering followed the hit. Some of the reppers had stopped their work to watch the sudden show. Another bolt split the air between us, catching on one of the floating tools and bouncing to several more. I used the moment to catch my bearings.
We were halfway through the repair yards and there was still no sign of the Bandit. Moreover we were getting closer to the larger ships. The Bandit had to be nearby, but first I needed to lose the officer. I shot toward another cluster of ships under repair, hearing the hoots of the reppers as I passed and the officer pursued.
I had just rounded a corner when a blur caught my eye. My head snapped backward in time to see Nightshade collide with the officer, knocking the pair of them of course. Both of them slammed into a platform several feet below, kicking and biting. On the rebound, the officer kicked off and flapped, gaining momentum while her forelegs locked around the barrel of Nightshade’s chest and she heaved, rearing back and twisting into a smooth, rolling suplex. Nightshade’s head slammed into the deck with enough force to make the deck shake. Floating limp, Nightshade was down for the count. The officer rolled back into the air with a tight pirouette.
“So, got any more friends? Or are you ready to- Oh! DAMMIT! FINE!”
I was already halfway to the next ship.
I climbed as she sped after me, putting on as much speed as I could until we rounded a corner into the big docks. Massive ships lined in random patterns clogged the air, forming tight corridors of space that techs flitted between. I sped around another corner as I fled, straight into the guts of a ship under construction. A bolt snapped across the bulkhead directly beneath me. I twisted, and shot out the other side, straight into another shot from her rifle.
Crack.
The tail end of the bolt struck my hindleg. Hot pain lanced up my side and my withers. I saw white, then red. Struggling to flap my wings, I banked and turned, awkwardly splitting the gap between a pair of damaged military craft, just to break line of sight with the other pegasus. Disoriented, I botched the angle and bounced, running headlong into the ship’s armor plating instead of completing the turn.
Realizing my mistake a moment too late, I tried a clumsy back beat to kill my momentum. It almost worked. I hit the ship’s hull with a meaty thud. Sore, I tried to settle myself back into the air.
“End of the line, Horizon!” The officer called. I spun to face her. She looked like she had seen better days. Her suit was ripped in a few places where tools had clipped her, and her aviators were gone. Steel blue eyes trained a rifle on me with practiced precision, aided by the subtle glow of her WAND. “There’s nowhere left to run.”
I tried to beat my wings and failed. My legs felt numb and I could feel a warm fuzz creeping over my senses.
“What, nothing left to say?” She said.
My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath.
She snorted.
“Horizon Seldat.” She announced with a satisfied smile. “You are hereby charged with the murder of Junkyard Juryrig, forgery of official documents, and disobeying an officer of the law. By the authority of the Pegasus Bureau of Justice...”
She took aim. I tensed for what was coming.
“You’re under arrest.”
Crack.
---
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I kinda wish the description had more to say about the background of the fic. But I'm going to read it, so it's moot for me.
I can see why others might move past it though.
But that's their loss. I hope this is as interesting as I'm thinking it is.
2493878
Yeah I get around
Now shhh, reading. This reminds me of my sci fi story and I'm loving it.
2493827
Thanks! Glad someone finally took an interest.
My story suffers from a data dump in the first chapter which turns most people off. I also have trouble keeping my grammar in check. I tend to think in sentence fragments, which is a bad habit I picked up when I was young, and one that I have to fight against to get anything coherent out onto paper. I'm planning on rewriting chapter one later on to bring it up to bearable status.
The background is kind of difficult to explain. What you are reading is basically my rough approximation of what Equestria would look like given 3000 years of development and a certain set of criteria. I had to do a lot of world building before writing chapter one, and I've done a whole lot more since then. I have a timeline that I am working off of, as well as several design documents to help me keep track of everything, I also have a rough outline of the entire story from start to finish. I also have a timeline which might be helpful for some people to understand why things are the way they are. I say that with a bit of warning, however, as I've been told that it is very dry reading.
Thanks for the comment!
2493881
Oop! Sorry! I'll shut up now.
The saddest and strangest thing about this story? 440 views. Sixteen upvotes.
Yeah, what the buck?
2494171
Not everything works out the way we want it to. From what I've seen sci-fi doesn't traditionally do that well outside a few stand out titles. Something inside me dies every time I see another Halo/star wars crossover in the featured box, but that's just jealousy talking.
Regardless, I hope you've enjoyed what you've read. I know that it has problems, but it is what it is.
2495180
I did, I loved the parts that focused on that fact they were pnies the most, of course. Some more of that and more characterization I would say would help a lot.
I called my friend annoying when he said 1st person present was a limiting perspective, but I think I'm starting to see his point. I would say that hurt this story too.
2496161
Thank you for the kind comments. I'll try my best to improve as I go along. It's just nice to have some real feedback for once XD.
2497629
My recommendation? Start another story, maybe try and get it a better limelight to start with, you miss that first feature and it's hell trying to climb back out, just make a good hook and switch over, the intrigue is there, just needs something...more.
I'd conclude this part of the story and maybe try to write a part two or some such, silly but it'll work if you wanted to remain with these characters. Or you could do what I do, just write an entirely new fic, and end up with nine of them.
2497688
I'll keep that in mind. Thanks!
2497760
Hehe sorry I'm joking with you like this, I can't really offer much help, truth be told.
Unless you wanted to write one of these collabs I have piling up with me.
*Readies his Collab group speech...*
2497772
I'm interested in the collab idea but I'm not exactly sure I would be the right person to help you with it. My grammar is iffy at best and you've seen the kinds of problems I have. I'm also not sure if I would have the time to contribute meaningfully to it. While I don't have any other stories aside from this one, I've been busy with other things. Right now I'm working with Silly Filly Studios in directing our next production on top of job hunting, studying for my network+ certification, and voice acting. :b
2497772
Group speech? O dis gun b gud. *grabs popcorn*
2498766
Bwaaaaa you work with Silly Filly? The janimations folks?
Screw my lame stories, let me work with you guys!
2499695
At this point it might be best to continue this conversation via personal message. I'm going to send my response via the fimfiction mail system.
“Well then, Horizon, I suggest you learn right quick, because this here’s the real world. Here, there’s blood. You can keep living in that little bubble of yers if you want, but if you’re gonna survive, yer gonna need to learn how to protect yerself. I can’t say much for whatever damn luck you’ve had so far, but if you don’t learn how to fight... well,” Joe sighed, “It’s gonna bite ya.”
Yup, Horizon's completely unprepared for the greater world. We who have boring jobs and mundane lives often wish for something more exciting. Are you excited yet, Horizon? Suddenly salvaging for a living doesn't seem so bad.
“B’sides,” Joe added, “who’s going to get me more whiskey when my shipper’s in jail?” He chuckled. “It’s what friends do.”
RUN!!!!
Seriously, do not trust any pony on that station. I half expected either Fritter or Joe or both to double cross him, turn him in to the PBJ (great acronym btw).