The Element of the Island

by computerneek

Chapter 4: The Hospital Expedition

“Anything?”

It’s the mission commander, coming up to the deck to meet me. It’s been twenty minutes, but I’ve only been up here for ten; I stopped by the medbay again for bone repair before heading up.

“No. I’ve been wishing with all my might for something, but nothing came.”

“Maybe there is nothing to come.”

“Maybe it’s too much to ask for her to have a boat. Or, Celestia forbid, an entire ship, I know that’d be nice. She has only revealed small items so far, like the Depth Striders.”

“And that thing.”

“And this thing. It doesn’t look much different from a Depth Strider.”

“I wonder how agile it makes you. Do you think you could fend off all those Agents with it, until another boat arrives?”

“Probably not… Wait.” I focus on the furrow I just noticed in the water.

He looks at it, and scowls.

The… thing hops off my back, landing smoothly on the decking behind me, as I jump over the railing. Pleading inside to find a Depth Strider waiting for me.

There isn’t. I splash down hard, slicing into the water, and wait.

I wait for two seconds, before something touches my back… and the water is like air.

I look towards the furrow.

And slam a foreleg into my face, before rising back up to the ladder and climbing back onto the ship, Depth Strider and all.

He blinks, looking at me. It looks like I worried him. “A Depth Strider?” he asks.

I nod. “Heavy.” I point to the growing furrow, and the leading wave that’s starting to appear. “Guess what that is.”

“Some kind of invisible boat to take you to the mainland.”

“A ship, rising out of the water as it comes.”

“... So, she does have a whole ship.”

“Or so it would seem, yes.” The tip of the metal spire on the top of it sticks out of the water.

We watch. It doesn’t take long before the shape of the deck is evident, water pouring off of it long before it reaches the water’s surface.

That tower is the first part to pierce the surface. It’s a bit of a strange ship, with what looks like the cabin and everything in the middle, rather than at the ends. It also has no sails whatsoever, and is made entirely of metal.

As it reaches the surface, it becomes rapidly evident that the deck is not flat, like ours. Large, pipe-like structures, mounted on huge, flat-topped domes, pierce the water’s surface. Huge, raised deck plates, set in a grid pattern, emerge just moments before the rest of the deck does.

Then the hull of the ship becomes visible, and it slowly stops rising, moving towards us.

Very suddenly, all the water seems to decide it wants off of the ship, leaving the deck dry.

We watch with open jaws as it slides easily forwards, through the water, until it stops next to us- at which point it drops an anchor with an audible splash.

“I… I think we have our transport,” I state.

“I wonder what else she’s hiding on that island.”

I can only shrug. “No clue.”

---

The transfer between ships went without a hitch, despite the fact that a teleport would disrupt the stasis spell. It was fairly simple: The medic coming with me teleported my Depth Strider over, while I put the flying one back on- interesting how it just hopped into the air for me- to carry her over myself.

Then we started looking for the sails.

That lasts for about one minute, before I facehoof.

“What?” It’s the medic.

“It just came out to us on its own, and we’re looking for sails.”

“Oh.”

I close my eyes. Wish it would take us to the mainland.

Nothing happens.

I… On an idea, I picture a map of the coast in my mind. Label all the cities and ports. Mark the one I want it to land at with a red X. Put that into my wish.

There’s a sudden clunk, and something starts sliding. I open my eyes… Oh. The anchor is rising.

We take her below deck while it starts to move.

I stay with her. Sit beside her, watch the stasis field oscillate.

My stomach growls, but I’m not hungry.

I want her to be safe.

---

Time passes. I neither know nor care how much, only that the stasis field is steady. And that night hasn’t fallen yet.

“I… I don’t believe it.”

I glance up at the medic. “What?”

“We’re here.”

“It’s a five-day journey.”

“Not for this thing, it would seem. We’re approaching the docks.”

I rise from her side, look out the window.

He’s right. We are approaching the docks.

I pick an empty space.

I understand instantly that it would not fit there. It’s already selected the closest space in which it would fit, though.

One of the deep-sea docks, for massive cargo ships. Nopony uses them anymore; while impressive, those ships spent most of their time idle. Not one of them ever turned a profit, leaving these massive docks abandoned.

Then of course, there was the matter of how difficult the ships were to get in and out of the deep sea docks safely. Each time, at least one ship sank. Usually, it was the smaller one it had collided with, but a couple big rigs had sunk as well.

This ship doesn’t seem to have that problem. It turns sideways as it approaches the dock, decelerating smoothly as it performs a feat no Equestrian ship could hope to accomplish: Sliding sideways into the docks.

While I watch huge, metal ropes lashing out to latch onto the docking anchors, the medic picks her up again. Within moments of the docking procedure reaching a smooth, pony- and damage-free conclusion, we’re down on the docks, heading for the hospital.

---

They can’t help her. The doctors remind us that it’s not a case of the operation being to expensive; with the government stamp covering all the paperwork in ambiguity, cost is not a limiter. Rather, they don’t have anypony with the experience to handle her condition.

Good thing they only had the stasis down for a few seconds.

Also a good thing the lobby attendant that happened to be in the room isn’t from the area. According to her, there’s a little town, way out near the terrors of the Everfree Forest, where mending a fractured bone is an outpatient procedure- and a shattered bone takes only a day to repair completely.

Where both of the above are considered ‘minor ailments’.

Where the doctors are used to major, life-threatening injuries- with the result that, more often than not, they simply don’t need the stasis spell.

A little town, that deals with the biggest, deadliest injuries in Equestria. Reportedly, they once had a pony lose an entire leg, and bleed out for almost a whole minute. He walked out of the recovery room hardly a week later.

A little town, not Canterlot or Manehattan, with the best doctors in Equestria.

An older Agent might have called it quits.

But while the medic is playing the part of our father while we’re out in public, I’m the senior Agent.

So I order up a quick pegasus ride halfway across Equestria. I use my government stamp of ambiguity again, and by the time Celestia lowers her sun, we’re landing in front of that small town hospital.

One more stroke of the stamp is all it takes to get her in.

I lock eyes with the desk attendant over the stamped paperwork. For some reason, she seems hesitant to take it.

But before I can say anything, she nods. “We’ll have Doctor Horse look at her as soon as he arrives.”

That’s the name of the best doctor in the hospital, according to that Manehattan hospital desk clerk. “Thank you.”

Though I have to wonder why he would need to arrive.

I spot the clerk pushing a door slightly open. Strain my ears, as she passes in the stamped paperwork.

“Hey, Redheart? New patient, entrance lounge, filly under stasis. Level seven.”

“Roger. We’ll have her in… A-3 in a minute. Tenderheart, you’ve got the stretcher. Sweetheart, the doctor. I’ve got the patient.”

Two separate voices say “Roger” together.

Then the clerk pulls the door open for two nurses to emerge. One heads straight for her, where she’s still floating in the medic’s magic. The other heads for the doors and leaves the hospital.

… Unless I miss my guess, that was a level of instant coordination that even the Agency often lacks. Exactly why that one nurse left the building, though, I don’t know.

The nurse that’s coming to us glances up at the medic. “How strong is the stasis?”

“Four hundred thirty seven,” he answers immediately.

She nods, and starts doing… something. I think she’s doing what tests she can, through the stasis field.

Thirty seconds after the two nurses emerged, everything seems to start moving. The second nurse is returning into the hospital, a caramel-coated stallion following in her wake, a clipboard floating in his dark blue magic aura.

“... hope it’s just a C,” I hear him mutter, as he enters.

At the same time, the doors into the hospital proper open- and a third nurse walks in, pushing a stretcher… with a doctor’s uniform and equipment slung over one corner.

The latter of this, the uniform, quickly finds itself teleported and/or slung into place on the caramel unicorn, whose horn glows gently as he peers at her, the stretcher moving underneath her.

“Eight Delta,” he declares, after only a moment’s examination.

If I thought they were moving before, I was wrong. He and two of the three nurses disappear back through the swinging doors into the rest of the hospital so fast the wind holds them open for another second or two.

At the same time, the first nurse, the one that had been checking her temperature and who knows how many other things before the doctor arrived, steps towards us.

“Hello, my name is Nurse Redheart. Her condition is dire, such that the more we know and the sooner we know it, the more likely she can make a full recovery.”

She’s not done, filling her lungs for what my Agent instincts recognize instantly as a question.

I’m faster. I’m already talking.

“We don’t know her name, nor any medical info. We found her on an island out at sea, where an unknown disaster occurred sometime in the past.”

I continue to tell her. While I’m talking, she moves us to a small room off to the side, locking the door- but her attention never falters, and I never falter either.

I tell her everything. I’m aware that much of it should be Agency secrets, but if it could help save her life, I’m willing to tell.

When I mention that I only saw the final blow, the medic immediately states he saw the whole thing. We glance at each other, and I hop down on the floor, mimicking the position she had been in.

“It went like this.” He then imitated what the other Agent had done, with only one difference- he pulled his punches. While he performs the demonstration, I describe the assailant as best as I can. Breed, color, weight, muscle, even manestyle. I don’t know what they might find helpful.

As soon as that was done, I was back on the seat, telling her of what happened afterwards.

I describe the steadiness of the stasis spell on the ship. Exactly what happened when they lowered it. The questionability of the stasis on the second trip, with the pegasi.

In the end, I finally close with a fairly typical statement.

“That’s all we know.”

Only, it carries more truth than it usually ever does. Not only did I tell her absolutely everything I knew, but the medic supplied what he had seen of her. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Nurse Redheart bows her head. “Thank you. She is in surgery right now; we will let you know as soon as we have news.” She bows out of the room, closing the door behind her.

“How did she know-?” the medic begins.

“The clipboard. It has two physical and eighteen telepathic entanglement runes on it. She was undoubtedly in communication with the doctor or somepony else in the room. Or both.”

---

We wait for what seems like forever.

At least, for what feels to me like forever.

And yet it’s also over too quickly.

It’s Redheart.

“The operation is complete. Doctor Horse has invited you to come visit; we expect her to awaken shortly.”

We follow. She continues talking as we go.

“The damage was… severe. Not as bad as it could have been; with what you showed me, she should have been killed twice over- even if she’d been an earth pony. We worry some of the critical sectors of her brain may have been damaged- in particular, her speech center, her auditory center, her memory, and her general comprehension. If we’re right, she may never walk, talk, or understand again.”

“That’s…”

“Terrible. As near as we can tell, she’s got more thaumic potential than Celestia herself, as well. Thank Celestia her thaumic control centers don’t seem to be damaged.”

The medic scowls. “They’re not?”

“They are not. For some reason, they’ve shown amazing resilience, compared to the surrounding parts of her brain. It’s entirely possible that they instinctively self-protected, but failed to protect the rest.”

“Don’t ponies only have one?” I ask.

“Normally, yes. She’s got several; some of them overlap, some of them don’t. We’re attributing that to the isolation you mentioned from the rest of ponykind.”

We enter the room.

She’s lying on the bed, an oxygen mask covering her face. Three of her legs are in casts; there’s a big one around her neck, and a frame of some sort around her middle, supporting another cast there.

The doctor looks up. “Three legs crushed, the last broken. Eight broken ribs, major damage to almost all of her internal organs. Broken spine at the base of the neck, and again just below the skull. Fractured skull, shattered jaw. Major brain damage.

“She’s alive, but we don’t know for how long. We won’t, until she wakes up… or dies.”

“So she’s…”

“She’s on life support. Even if she lives, she may never regain the ability to breathe on her own, or to eat.”

“She’s fading.” It’s the nurse, next to the bed.

The doctor looks back. “I’m afraid there’s nothing more we can do.”