A Week in the Rainbow Factory

by bahatumay

Chapter 2

This waiting was probably the worst part. There was no clock in here, no windows, the light never changed. There was no way to mark the passage of time. His cellmates, a stocky colt and a gangly filly, were similarly quiet, or nervous, or not wanting to draw attention to themselves, but nopony in the room seemed to want to be the first to speak.

Maybe they, like he, were wondering if this were all just a bad dream. Maybe he’d wake up in his bed, ready to take his flight test.

The outer door screeched open, sounding almost hauntingly melodic. His perfect pitch translated the sound into corresponding notes. E F G A Bb.

Two ponies entered, walking up to a random cage. One was holding a shockstick, while a second carried a strange metal pole with a long wire loop around one end. The first opened the door with a key, and the second slipped inside.

Octave realized its purpose right as she used it. She looped it over the head of a small yellow filly, and she tugged much harder on the line than she needed to. The filly gagged as the wire tightened around her neck, and her cellmates could only stare in horror as she dragged her out of the cage room. The pegasus with the shockstick locked the door behind them as they left, and that seemed to be that.

Octave slowly sunk to his haunches. This answered the question of what would happen to them. He laid back down, but he already knew sleep wasn’t going to come. How could it? Not when any moment could be his last.

But some of the other foals weren’t about to take this laying down. The shock had worn off, and they were starting to talk.

“Look, if they only come in two at a time, we outnumber them,” a filly was saying. “It’s a three on two. We can run out, grab the keys, and get everypony out.”

“And then what?” another asked irritably.

“We take their weapons and get out of here!”

“In case you didn’t notice, none of us can fly,” another pointed out, flaring his little wings. “And we’re in a factory up in the sky.”

“No, but I’d rather not die grinded up like a peppercorn, if that’s alright with you,” the filly in the next cell interjected.

“We don’t have a chance.”

“Not with that attitude, we don’t,” another said disparagingly. “But if all of us get out-”

Octave curled up, trying to block out the arguing. He didn’t want any part of this. He just wished he could go home.

---

Octave jumped as the main door opened, the melodic creaking sounding harsh. He and his cellmates all pressed themselves against the wall, all having come to the same conclusion that it might be better to not be seen right away.

This strategy might have paid off. The worker, a blue stallion, selected one of the other cages.

There was just one worker to collect this time. Octave held his breath. Would they try it?

They would. One colt darted to the side, as if to draw his attention, and the other leaped at him, swinging wildly. The other filly raced around, her goal the open door.

But he was ready for this. He ignored the first colt, as he was running to the side closed off by the open cage door, and used the body of his shockstick to block the second colt by driving it up into his muzzle. A sickening crunch rang out, and he hit the ground hard. Then, he whipped around the active end and clipped the tip of the filly’s hind leg with the prongs.

That slight contact was enough. She yelped as her whole body convulsed, rolled over in the air, and hit the ground. She slid across the floor, legs splayed out and spinning like a young foal on ice.

This stunned the other colts into stopping. They stared.

He nonchalantly kicked the cage door shut. “Thank you for volunteering,” he said brightly, which contrasted sharply with the cruel stomp he delivered to her stomach.

She cried out and curled up defensively.

“Come on,” he ordered, but she didn’t seem to be able to move. With an exasperated sigh, he leaned over, bit down on her wing, and began dragging her backwards down the hall, decidedly disregarding her continuing cries of pain.

The door crashed shut, and nopony said a word. The room was silent, aside from a few quiet whimpers of pain as the second colt tried to stop his bleeding muzzle.

The revolution had been decidedly crushed.

---

The main door creaked open again, and every foal jumped up, terrified that they would be chosen next.

But this time, it was Blizz, carrying trays on her massive back and her outstretched wings. With a careless movement, she slid them along the ground towards the cages. On top was a meager assortment of bland-looking food.

The tray she slid towards Octave’s cage didn’t get close enough for them to grab. Irritably, Blizz kicked it over, spilling most of the food off as the tray skittered across the ground and closer to the cage.

Octave couldn’t remember what he’d last eaten. Breakfast, his mom had made waffles, was that yesterday?

It didn’t really matter; the other colt in his cage had reached through and grabbed all that he could, stuffing it in his mouth. This earned him a dope slap from the filly, but he just growled at her.

Octave looked down. He wasn’t sure he could eat anyway. Not after what he’d seen. His stomach just felt tied up in knots-

A soft pressure on his flank made him jump.

The filly was there, holding a torn part of a bread roll. She held it out to him.

He smiled thankfully and ate it slowly.

It was as bland and tasteless as it had looked, but somehow that had made it a little bit better.