Zebrabwe's Secret

by GMBlackjack

IV - The Crab

“...This is The Crab.” Torque deadpanned.

“Yep,” her captor responded.

“I was expectin’... claws.”

The “Crab” was a structure made of the same alien stone the houses were carved out of, except every surface was glowing with intricate orange runes. It was vaguely the shape of a semicircle with eight spikes pointing into the ground. Given the round joints within the spikes, it was reasonable to assume they were legs.

The crab was effectively a moving house.

Zecora stared at The Crab in disbelief. “When I left we had nothing like this, I find myself wondering what I did miss.”

The lead Zebra snorted. “Don’t know, don’t care, get in the cargo hold. I’m getting you to Zebrabwe but I don’t want to look at your faces on the trip.” He gestured at a ladder that led into the back compartment of the crab. “Move it, squirms.”

“C-can I stay out ‘ere?” Gustave asked. “I don’t know how to fly ze ship and I—”

“Just get in, I don’t want any funny business.”

Gustave gulped, nodding vigorously. He climbed up the ladder and entered The Crab, shivering the whole way.

“I’m watchin’ ya,” Torque said, pointing her wrench at the Zebra. “Any o’ ya get out and try to mess with my girl and y’all got another thing comin’.”

“That ship is going to be mine. And I will get it legally. Now move!”

Torque and Zecora climbed up the ladder next. The cargo hold was surprisingly spacious, with only a few loose crates filled with food and supplies. There were narrow slits running along opposing sides that served as windows—not to let light in, for the orange runes provided more than enough to see, but to let the passengers know what lay outside. Right now, it was sand.

Torque tapped her wrench on the edge of the wall, letting out a clang. “It ain’t metal, but it ain’t really stone either… What is this stuff?”

Zecora scratched her chin. “I have no idea, but it’s not a member of crustacea.”

“What?” Gustave asked.

“Crab, blab.”

“...I’m confused.”

Zecora sighed. “I apologize for what I have gotten us all into, taken in by this ugly crew with a nasty brew. With any hope my words are enough to get us safely out of this cuff.”

Torque nodded. “Are ya really some princess or somethin’? I trust ya, but I also think ya mighta been bluffin’ for our sakes.”

Zecora’s frown deepened. “I am Sage Zecora Zo of Zebrabwe, a member of the royal family tree. Sent afar to learn of distant lands, wandering free, returning at last to tell of what stands beyond the dreary sands. ...I fear I have been away too long, for the land sings a new song.”

The Crab lurched. Gustave let out a shriek as The Crab’s massive legs removed themselves from the sandy ground. As each spike moved, the intensity of the orange glow increased markedly, clearly showing the flow of energy as the mechanical beast moved. Each point caused miniature clouds of dust to rise up. At first, this was nothing more than localized puffs of dust, but as The Crab’s speed increased it became a constant churning cloud of desert ground.

“Zis is wrong…” Gustave shivered. “We are not supposed to ride wizin animals!”

“It’s not an animal… it’s a machine.” Torque tapped the wall with her wrench. “Not that I have the foggiest idea how it works, mind ya. Though if I have anythin’ to say about it I’m gonna know soon…”

“I will assist to get the gist of this machine’s means to exist,” Zecora offered.

“You do zat!” Gustave said. “I shall… sit. And do nozing.”

“There’s a crate of terrible rations in that crate,” Torque pointed out. “Ya could make somethin’ out o’ that, right?”

“Oh… oh, oui! This travesty must be remedied!”

“Yeah, that’s right, make the food,” Torque chuckled as she smacked The Crab’s interior with her wrench again. “I’m not seein’ any access ports, but I’m no fool. I can work with this…”

~~~

The Crab trudged through the desert, caring nothing for stealth. Come and attack if you dare, the massive smoke cloud told the desert around. Nobody dared.

The ride within The Crab wasn’t as rickety as one might expect, given how crazy the legs moved. The cabin leveled itself much of the time, using piston-like devices in the joints to keep the floor relatively flat. It was smoother than riding a camel but not as good as a properly used carriage.

Gustav had managed to find a kitchen knife and was making several dishes out of the rations. He didn’t have many ingredients to work with, so much of his technique was focused on changing the overall texture of the brick-like food: cutting it into strips, cubes, shreds, and the like. He was currently testing it for noodle viability, finding that it made a passable spaghetti texture when boiled. That said, there was no seasoning to speak of aside from salt, and spaghetti was never a winner all on its own.

“Seasonings…” Gustave poked his head out of the crate. “Do either of you have any kind of seasoning?”

Torque pulled her head out of a hole she had made in the floor a few minutes ago. “Not unless ya want pony sweat. Gotta few bottles of that.”

“I’m experimenting enough as it is.”

“Then I’ve got nothin’ for ya. All that’s down here is a whole bunch of mechanical nonsense.”

“It is not true nonsense, my engineering friend,” Zecora said. “It just has an unusual esoteric blend.”

“Just unusual? Just? There’s no power source! At all! Ya said even Zebra voodoo potion whatsits needs a power source, and there’s nothin’ here! It just POOFS in from nowhere!”

Zecora smirked. “And yet it follows the rules of enchantment, at least where there is no argument.”

“Well, er, yes, you’re enchanting Zebra magic is clearly what made this thing, but… I don’t even know what it’s made out of!” She tapped the material with her wrench. “The only reason I could bust that hole in the floor is because it was already weak from a lot of wear and tear. It…” Torque grabbed her head with a hoof and forced herself to breathe. “Aight, aight… so it doesn’t make sense. It’s got no power, the material is unknown, and the magic’s a little funky. We just need to think a little harder.”

There was a loud clang at the back of the cargo hold. Somebody was opening the door.

Zecora quickly pushed a box over the hole and sat on it, whistling innocently.

The female Zebra walked in, glancing at all three of them. “Boss’ paranoid. He thought you all went somewhere. Pfft. As if. A—” She noticed Gustave was making noodles. “Where in the seven pits did you find that?”

“Made it from ze rations,” Gustave bragged. “Behold, noodles a-la-dire circumstances.”

“...Are you a chef or somethin’?”

“Yes. I am,” Gustave huffed.

The Zebra chuckled. She took the noodles and sipped. “Absolutely terrible, like rations usually are, just wetter.”

Gustave frowned. “Forgive me, I did not ‘ave much to work wiz.”

“Who needs that?” She pressed her hooves together and swirled them around the edge of the bowl, prompting the soup to glow slightly. She grabbed a salt shaker and opened it, dropping the metal lid into her concoction instead of any actual salt. The brew flashed a blue color before settling on a pleasant rose-red tone. She took a sip and grinned. “That’s how it’s done, bird.”

Gustave took a sip—and his eyes widened. “Wh… where did you get the berry flavor?”

“Magic, bozo. Maybe learn it sometime, hmm?”

“Griffons do not have innate enchantment abilities,” Zecora said. “The magic of the wind is more within their utilities.”

“Then they shouldn’t be cooks, duh.” She left the cargo hold, closing the door behind her.

Zecora sighed. “...Do not listen to her, not all can be as we are, I must concur.”

Gustave sighed. “I am ‘ere to learn about your ways. Surely zere is a way to teach...?”

“I do not know if I could teach an earth pony my craft. You could make an immense draft, of that I am sure, but I do not see you making brews pure.”

“Zer—”

“But the rules of the brew can be applied far and wide, that is true. I can teach you to chew and to see what will fall through.”

“After we get out of this mess, right?” Torque asked.

“Of course, I am not coarse.”

“How long until we get to Zebrabwe?” She glanced out the slit, seeing only endless sand.

Zecora shrugged. It would happen eventually.

Comments

[FanOfMostEverything]

Just because zebras can cheat doesn't mean griffins are hopeless in the kitchen. They just have try harder. And actually supply ingredients. Shock and horror, I'm sure.

That said, it's kind of hilarious to see provincial, casually speciesist zebras. After all, they're usually on the other end of that exchange.