Eden Fire

by Sharman Pierce

Carpet Diem

Everything clanged and echoed. Every step reverberated through this horrible ship. Voices drifted through the dim hallway, but Cold Snap could not see any of the pirate crew. Their guard was the only proof that they were not suddenly alone.

The bulky minotaur yanked the deck hatch closed, cutting off their light and only hope of escape with a bang. He grunted and shoved Nebula down the hallway. Snap didn’t need encouragement and scrambled after his friend.

Almost immediately, he could feel claustrophobia set in. The entire hallway, floor, ceiling, and walls were painted the same monotonous bluish-gray. If it wasn’t for the solid planking under his hooves, Snap would have thought they were somehow still stuck in the ocean.

They came to a fork. The guard gestured right with his musket. Snap eyed the weapon. Part of him wanted to come up with a daring plan to overpower their guard and make an escape. Common sense killed any of those ideas before they became mature and dangerous. Sure, he and Nebula, even as weak as they were, might be able to take the minotaur’s weapon.

What would it matter? The Hound had at least eighty crewing it. This ship had to have at least that many. They had no hope to triumph over numbers like that. Worse still was that they had no way off this ship. Even if they escaped onto another ship, this ship could overtake it without a thought.

The longer the earth pony thought about it, the more he realized that cooperation was in their best interests. Any attempts to escape, resist, or harm Captain Gideon Hail’s crew would only come back to haunt them.

So, when he saw the musket, he looked with a tame academic curiosity. While his home was isolated, he managed to keep abreast of technological advancements. Generally, that meant he happened to hear relatively outdated snatches of information about an eclectic assortment of subjects. One of those was the field of firearms.

There wasn’t much to know about an arquebus or gonne. Both utilized burning chemicals to generate a violent expansion of gas to propel a crude shot at deadly velocity. Both were heavy, but sometimes they had enchantments to mitigate that shortcoming. They were lit by a burning fuse touching a powder hole. All in all, they were unreliable creations of iron and wood that held much in common with a club.

This guard’s weapon didn’t match any of those. If anything, it bordered on petite, with its wooden stock in sharp contrast with its black barrel. Unlike the blocky firearms he’d seen, this weapon looked trim with sharp edges everywhere. It gave every impression of falling to pieces at the slightest provocation.

Cold Snap was not willing to put that impression to the test.

By now, his eyes had grown used to the gloomy ship. He lifted a hoof over a doorway and paused for a moment when he realized the door was a thick plate of metal. The guard shoved him along before he could get any more observations. Now that he’d seen it once, he could see oddities all across the ship.

Brass tubes ran near the ceiling for some unknown purpose. Doorways always possessed a raised lip and a tarry fabric around the entire portal. Light glimmered from humming gemstones set at regular intervals along the hallway. Above all, everywhere he looked was metal!

Snap had never seen so much metal before. Maybe that had to do with his upbringing. Metal was a scarce necessity on the farm where worn tools were saved for repairs or reforged into new parts. This ship could have supplied a thousand farms like his with more to spare.

Their captor halted them and opened a small door. Without a word, they stepped inside. The door clanged behind them and clanged once more as a bolt fell into place. Nebula let out a violent huff.

“We are in so much trouble now.”

Snap looked around their prison. The mundane bits of cloth and tarry scent of the place made it obvious that this was some kind of storage closet. A few things here could be turned into weapons, but that would not go over well. The place had no window or porthole. Instead, the light came from a gently humming crystal above their heads.

“I think ‘trouble’ doesn’t begin to cover it,” Snap replied.

Nebula huffed a weak laugh. He leaned against a shelf in what should have been an uncomfortable slouch. Finally, he smiled. “No. No, I guess it doesn’t.”

Minutes passed as Snap felt the ship slowly heave. He already missed the Golden Hound. This ship simply felt wrong. This one growled beneath his rump like an angry animal. He could feel it rumble; hear its titanic breaths, and, worst of all, hear the faint screeches in its bowels.

This ship sounded like it wanted to kill him with every idle thought. He grabbed a stack of cloth and wrapped his head to try to ignore it all. It somehow made it worse.

He sighed and sat back up, not bothering to remove his head-wrap. Nebula coughed. “So, what now?”

What now? Snap had never ever considered something like this. He wasn’t foolish. Planning for the unexpected came second nature to him. However, this crossed the line between precaution and impossible.

Instead of answering, he sat stupidly on the wood decking. His scattered thoughts warred against the unfamiliar surroundings. He heard the enchanted light hum above him. He felt the ship growl all around him. Worst of all, he felt the ship rocking.

His friend must have seen his growing discomfort. He scrambled closer to the door. “Don’t you dare lose your lunch now! And don’t do it on me!” he shouted as he jabbed a hoof at the ailing pony.

He did not lose his lunch. Whatever the weather was above, it must have changed since the ship gradually lost its heave and sailed in relative smoothness. Cold Snap enjoyed rubbing his victory in his friend’s face, but given their circumstances, it was a hollow victory.

Time was impossible to tell in their prison. They had no view of the outside, no appreciable change in temperature, and no clock. None of their attempted conversations lasted long. Plates of boiled cabbage and beans arrived, but no one ever retrieved them. In between boredom and fitful napping, hours may have passed.

A heavy shudder rocked the ship and shook the two awake. They stared at each other in silent confusion. A moment later, soft thumps echoed through the ship. “Gonnes,” Snap breathed.

The discharges reverberated through the metal with tiny cracks. A battle was happening above them, but against who? Having felt the shudder before, Snap could easily believe that Captain Gideon had found new prey.

A second blow like a massive fist shook the ship. The illuminated gem flickered. The fighting outside suddenly stopped. Minutes ticked past with the ship as silent as a tomb.

Snap and Nebula looked at each other and the cramped closet. The unspoken question hung heavy in the air. What just happened?

“Would it be a bad thing if these guys lost?” Nebula asked.

Grunting noncommittally, Snap began to probe the room for weaknesses. Of course, he didn’t find any. However, thundering hooves echoed outside their cell before he could sit down.

Both Nebula and Snap shied to the back wall as the door clanged open. A bright light nearly blinded them, and they could only see the silhouettes of muskets aimed at them.

“Follow us. No trouble, please,” a female voice commanded.

The light left with her, but the armed sailors held their ground. Cautiously, the two prisoners did as instructed. A trim unicorn clanked down the hallway. The guards followed slowly, but never used their weapons.

After a minute, they entered a stairwell. Snap could feel the sea breeze against his coat, but couldn’t tell where it originated. No windows existed this deep in the ship, and none of the hatches led to open sky. A guard nudged him along when he lingered too long on the mystery.

One thing was certain. They were going up. They passed another landing, this time stepping aside onto a platform that shuddered under their combined weight. The unicorn and guards paid it no mind. The former simply reached with her magic and pressed a lever upwards.

With a whine and groan, the floor rose. Seconds later, they stood on another deck, this one much more lavish than the others. Finer wood lined the walls along with paintings of various maritime or land features. The illumination gems were in much greater abundance here, and the halls shone like noontime. The guards waited at the lift while the unicorn trotted up to an ornate walnut door.

She rapped on a battered metal plate beneath carved hyacinths and rolling fields. “Sir, Midshipmare Deep Blue reporting with the prisoners.”

Something thudded inside, like a closet or drawer, before a familiar voice echoed: “See them in.”

With a slight nod, the mare motioned them through the door. Snap had taken one step inside before he froze. Something strange touched his hoof. He looked down to see… “Carpet?” he breathed.

It wasn’t just carpet. It was a rich indigo, like the deep sea. Its strands were packed close like grass while still remaining wondrously soft. This carpet alone was worth a fortune.

“Well? Step lively, colt,” Captain Gideon said with not a drop of patience in his tone.

Cold Snap and Nebula scrambled through the door, which Deep Blue closed before standing in the corner. They all waited on the griffon captain to speak next, but he seemed in no hurry to do that. He scrutinized the two from head to hoof, not uttering a single word in all that time.

Snap wanted to tear his eyes from the captain. There had to be incredible things all around his chambers, but he could not summon the will. The predatory gleam in the captain’s eyes kept him nailed to the spot.

Finally, he spoke. “Tell me. What was in the box?”

Confusion tripped their tongues. Nebula recovered first. “C-captain? What box?”

Rather than be upset, the griffon gestured with his claws. Snap followed them to see a glass window. A dot hung against the twilight gathering on the western horizon. Even this far away, Snap could see it was a ship.

“Not thirty minutes ago, an unknown group of flyers, mostly pegasi and griffons, ambushed this ship as the crew was loading the last of our spoils. The attackers used concussive enchantments to disorient the crew with surprising success,” the captain explained as he leaned against a beautifully polished desk inlaid with silver trim.

He picked up a piece of parchment no bigger than a large plate. “In the midst of the gunfight, they took only one small box as big as this paper. Not a single other item was taken. They covered their escape with a smoke screen and second concussion and flew back to their ship. They knew exactly what they wanted. So, I ask again: what was the box?” Captain Gideon said as he waved the paper.

“I, uh, we don’t know, sir,” Snap supplied.

The griffon looked at him with clear disbelief. Snap hurried his explanation. “We were transporting spices to a prospective buyer. We found a ship, and we fell overboard when you attacked us,” he finished with a slight accusation.

Captain Gideon calmly ran a talon in a carved edge of the desk. A moment later, he chuckled. “Then you should have reconsidered your ship choices. I am bound to attack those ships.”

“You’re a pirate,” Nebula accused before anyone could stop him.

Instantly, Captain Gideon’s eyes hardened, and Nebula quailed under their unrelenting focus. “I am not a pirate. I am a privateer.”

He fished inside his desk for a moment before pulling out a faded leather book. From this, he produced a letter. “This is a letter of marque to engage in activities detrimental to the Minotaur Unified Kingdoms and their war effort against the Atoli tribes. You did notice the flag your ship sailed under, did you not?”

Snap actually hadn’t noticed, but he remembered a sudden urgency to switch flags shortly before the battle. The griffon gave him no time to respond.

“So, here I am, a captain who’s just experienced a highly coordinated attack against my ship for the express purpose of retrieving one item. And if you’re wondering why I’ve failed to retaliate, it is because they have sabotaged the ship’s rudder. Rest assured though, it will be fixed within the hour, and I will be seizing it back.”

“Mr. Horn,” Snap uttered before he realized all eyes were on him.

Suddenly, he felt very uncomfortable. Nebula looked at him like he’d gone a bit mad, and the captain leaned over his desk in controlled eagerness. Snap swallowed and decided if he was going to dig himself a hole, he might as well do a good job at it. “Mr. Horn was a hippogriff. He paid the captain, Captain Wrought Iron that is, to make a special run for him. When you chased us, the captain mentioned Mr. Horn having some kind of important box.”

“Damnation,” the griffon muttered. “He’s miles behind us now. Anything else about him?”

Snap thought for a moment. “He knew about ships, a lot about ships.”

The slate griffon frowned. His claws thumped against the carpet as he paced, occasionally stopping to study the distant ship or some part of his gray, monstrous ship.

“Sir?” Midshipmare Blue tentatively spoke up.

While her interruption might have been a breach of protocol, the entire room focused on her. Unlike Snap, she seemed to be better prepared for the attention. “If we are going to pursue them like you say, we will need to prepare better. The smoke used during the attack made the deck crew tear up and not aim well. When they retreated, their flash and bang enchantment was obviously premade and of high quality.”

“Any prisoners?”

“No, sir.”

“Any bodies?”

The mare shook her head. “If we wounded any, it wasn’t bad enough to ground them.”

“Our losses?”

“As reported earlier. Three wounded but still fit for duty. One wounded and expected to recover with the surgeon.”

She took a cautious swallow. If she wanted to say more, the captain didn’t give her the opportunity. “And given that, it becomes clear that these were not spur-of-the-moment raiders. Whatever was in the box was obviously known by someone in advance and being trailed from its port of origin. Us seizing their target only adjusted their plans.”

The unicorn mare nodded. The captain returned to brooding over his desk. “Midshipmare, see that surgeon knows the specifics about the smoke. If we try to take that ship, then we will need to be prepared. We may be able to craft a counter to it.”

“Aye, sir,” the mare said as she stepped out.

Nebula waited until the mare stepped outside before asking a dumb question. “Captain? Does that mean?”

“It means you stay here. I’m not done with you just yet. About this hippogriff”-

Whatever he was going to say was drowned out by a loud hammering against the captain’s door.

“And what do you want?” the captain barked.

“Sir, we captured one of the attackers,” a loud male voice bellowed through the thick paneling.

Everything about the captain’s posture shifted. In that moment, he’d forgotten about the two unfortunate prisoners in favor of another. It was for the best. Snap realized that this griffon looked happy for this news. “Bring him in!”

The door slammed open, and three crew members squeezed through while hauling in a thrashing, feathered form. Thick jute ropes bound its legs and a croaker sack covered the figure’s head. In a moment, they slammed it to the carpet. The figure immediately tried to stand, but a bayonet placed between its wings stopped that.

“Found him hiding in the dinghy,” a familiar minotaur said.

One of the crew yanked off the hood. A ragged, exhausted Mr. Horn sat before them. Captain Gideon looked like he’d been handed a gift from the heavens. “Mr. Horn! The pleasure is all mine. I apologize for the rough greeting. I do hope we can have a productive discussion regardless.”

As soon as he said the hippogriff’s name, the prisoner melted. “You...know me?” he asked weakly.

“But of course! These fine colts have been extremely informative about you and your business with a certain package.”

Snap could barely follow the conversation. How could the captain have known this was Mr. Horn? He’d never met him or even heard a description!

By now, Mr. Horn looked like he was balancing on eggs. “Package? I think there’s been a mistake.”

“Mistake?” Captain Gideon said with the faintest edge. “I’d certainly hope not. We are talking about a wooden chest about yea big with a gold circle on the top and an uncut, polished ruby set in the center, aren’t we?”

Every identifying mark made the hippogriff flinch a little. The captain gestured his crew back, but not out of the room. Snap couldn’t help but notice they did not cut Mr. Horn’s bonds. Mr. Horn sat upright and tried to look composed and dignified.

With a figure like Captain Gideon in the room, he had as much hope as a snowdrift near a bonfire. “No. Mr. Horn. There is no mistake here. Unlike my jacks here, I know you weren’t part of the attack. You’re too exhausted, too much salt in your feathers. Also, these two recognized you immediately,” he said as he gestured to the two colts.

Mr. Horn said nothing, but it was plain that he was being given enough rope to hang himself. He eventually sighed in defeat. “What do you want?”

The captain didn’t gloat in victory. He actually seemed bored. “A small thing. Should be something you’d have no reason not to give.”

He stepped to his window. “I want to know what’s so special about that box.”

“I don’t know, captain.”

The captain didn’t turn from his view. “And I think you do. At the very least, you know it’s incredibly important, important enough to divert a ship and fly for hours to retrieve it.”

Silence reigned for the longest time, but no one broke it, not the crew, not the prisoners, and not the captain. Eventually, the gray captain broke out a smile. Everyone perked to hear what brightened his mood. “Let me offer you a deal, you want it back? You can have it back, but I get to know what everyone’s so excited about.”

“Yes.” Mr. Horn said it softly. His voice gained strength, and he continued. “I agree, but I’ll tell it only with you. Not with your crew.”

He tilted his head in Nebula’s direction. “And not with the ponies.”

Captain Gideon paced back to his desk, paused to caress a rose covered with beautiful golden blooms, and faced the bound hippogriff, his eyes molten with anger. “Mr. Horn, you mistake your position on this ship. The Yellow Rose is mine. I say ‘go’ and my crew goes. ‘Do this’ and they do it. You can give orders to no one. You may make requests, but I am in no mood to grant them.”

The furious griffon pointed a talon at Nebula. “I do not care if that pony disturbs your sensibilities or reminds you of a jilted lover back home. You answer to ME. Let me make it clear: I will understand this mystery, and you will either be on this ship helping me, or overboard as soon as the rudder is fixed.”

A claw flipped open a silver disk. “Which should be any minute now.”

Snap watched the helpless hippogriff. Bound legs and disheveled coat made him an absolutely sorry sight to see, but it was the defeat oozing from him that struck Snap the hardest. Captain Gideon was a harsh master who would see that he got exactly what he wanted. Snap began to feel worried for a creature he had no real bond to.

“It’s a mechanism. It’s of unknown origin. Deceptively simple, and with a few pieces of writing on...animal skin.” Mr. Horn shuddered.

“No one knows what it does. I was supposed to bring it to a contact who would pay handsomely for it, but I had to be discreet. I obviously wasn’t discreet enough.”

“I’m sure someone has theories,” Captain Gideon said as he tucked the silver disk into a jacket pocket.

Mr. Horn barked a laugh. “Theories are all anyone’s really got. Sensationalists claim treasure. Others claim magical rituals. Ideas like tools of celestial worship are the most boring of the lot. Bring it in, and I will show you what I know. I doubt you’d get anywhere with it.”

“And there’s our snag. I do not possess it.”

The emotions on Mr. Horn’s face shifted from confusion to outrage to resignation. The gray griffon captain pointed at his window and the fading dot of a sail. “That’s why our repairs are so critical. Our pirates are making for the Black Archipelago. Once she’s there, that box could be on one of a dozen tramp ships making for the other islands in the chain. It will be as good as lost.”

Resignation gave way to fear. “Then, if they’re that far away and with a wind like this, we’ve already lost,” Mr. Horn said.

“Not so, my new friend. There’s not a ship on the waves that can outrun the Rose. Gale or calm. Sun or rain. They’re all the same to her. They’re confident they’ve whipped us. Now, we will return an eye for an eye.”

The captain reached for a metal tab on his desk and pressed it so that it bent with a click. Then he grasped a copper tube on a small stem. “Engineer, are our repairs complete?”

Snap wondered at the ingenious communication tool. His wonderings were cut short as a gruff male’s voice poured through. “Nearly so, Cap’n. Another five minutes, and we’ll be underway.”

“Good. Stoke the boilers. We have a ship to catch.”

Author's Note:

"I don't care about your excuses! I want that author's submission!" the beefy white stallion thumped his desk.
The army of interns scattered from his wrath and did everything in their power to find the elusive Author. Alas, they wasted their time.

The Publisher and Story Management Board chair shuffled through his paperwork and grumbled under his breath. He couldn't stand the interns. He couldn't stand the Author. Above all, he couldn't stand the refuse they called coffee in this place. All he could do was work until everything was finished and he could finally go home.

The door clicked. He looked up just in time to get a roll of paper to the face. The Publisher rubbed his nose furiously and shot a death glare at the figure before him who...was wearing a ski mask?

"A little hot for that mask, don't you think?" he asked.

"Hardly. I find it rather pleasant. I can only imagine a world where people will wear masks for no other reason than to feel comforted. Perhaps they will be quite fashionable."

The Publisher shook the pages. "This was due last week! As by previous submissions!"

"Submission," the Author corrected. "Two data points hardly make a trend. Besides, I have been rather busy. What with crashing a wedding and taking up a side project or two. Tell me, are you aware of the complexities in modeling parts for the Germane MG08? I'm currently on the feed block and it's quite a mechanism."

The Publisher felt an eyebrow twitch. "And you are doing this instead of writing because?"

The Author only shrugged in response. "Are you saying the world doesn't need properly dimensioned CAD files of obsolete heavy machine guns? What about those who make their livings producing spare parts? It's not like the Kaiser is making more of these things."

A dozen retorts presented themselves to the Publisher, and none of them seemed fit for the whack-job before him. Finally, he waved a hoof. "You know what? I don't want to know. I have the submission. I don't need anything else from you at this moment. But I still expect timely submissions!"

"Will do! As soon as I finish planning another project. I call it '404: Gun Not Found.' Should be absolutely hilarious."

The Publisher dropped his head to his desk and decided to focus on his now very sore nose.

Comments

[woggs123]

This gets better with every chapter, and it was already good

[M48 Patton]

11351243
More important question, did we manage to lose the Kamchatka?

[Eris Dis Harmonia]

11374139
Do you see torpedo boats?

[Scyphi]

The Author only shrugged in response. "Are you saying the world doesn't need properly dimensioned CAD files of obsolete heavy machine guns?"

A valid point.

Also, I fully know it's wordplay...but I gotta be pedantic still and point out that "carpet diem" would literally translate to "carpet day." Which, amusingly, still seems to fit, so how about that.