The Ties That Bind

by Scyphi

Runaway

At first, Gallus was of the opinion that they just abandon ship now while they had the chance and fly for safety back at the Griffish Isles, or at least that little islet where Dream Chaser had parked, before either got too far away. If they had no way to control this wayward airship, then as far as he was concerned, they could just leave it to go wherever it eventually ended up. Surely their safety was more important than the airship’s at this point anyway. But once they had managed to force open the control cabin door again and down to the cargo hatch leading off the craft, Gallus’s confidence was whisked away upon seeing just how turbulent the storm really was, as well as the roiling waves of the sea just barely visible in the thick misty haze of the heavy rainstorm.

Spike, skeptical of his plan from the start, considered this proof. “This is a bad idea, Gallus,” he stressed as they stood in the open cargo hatch, looking out at the storm raging outside. He jabbed a claw into the swirling mess. “I don’t think I can even fly in that!”

“I’ll carry you if I have to,” Gallus reasoned, though he wasn’t sure his own flying could support both Spike’s weight and keep himself stable in such a storm.

Spike had even less faith. “All the way back to land?” he questioned doubtfully, “Because I don’t want to end up having to swim for it halfway in choppy seas like that.” He pointed down at the crashing waves of the ocean below them. “Besides, do you even know which way we’d need to fly to get back to land? Because I certainly don’t anymore, and this storm isn’t exactly helping with visibility!”

“Well, what would you suggest instead?” Gallus challenged. “Just stay here on a runaway airship we can’t control?”

“It’s still giving us shelter from that storm!” Spike argued back. “Besides, remember what Dream Chaser said. This thing was designed to fly in conditions like this, and sure, the ride might be very turbulent…” this point was timely punctuated by the deck heaving as a powerful gust of wind briefly slammed into the craft, “…but it’s otherwise still stable enough that the storm’s probably not going to crash us into the sea. I think the engines running at full throttle like this is actually helping us to cut through the worst of it, so arguably, even though we can’t steer it, we’re still safer here than we are out there!”

Gallus groaned, but begrudgingly saw Spike’s point. “Somebody’s going to come looking for us eventually though,” he pointed out.

“Especially if anyone heard that message we tried to transmit on the radio,” Spike agreed with a nod, “And they’ll have a heck of an easier time finding us in the more visible airship that they’d already know to look for than two creatures trying to fly in that mess, or worse still, trying to swim for shore in it!”

Gallus groaned again, but unable to come up with any counters, he pulled the cargo hatch closed, shutting out the storm’s roaring. “So what should we do instead?” he asked again now that they no longer had to yell over the wind. “Just sit here and wait, hoping somebody will eventually find us? Because we can’t do that forever, you know.”

“No, the batteries for the engines will eventually run dry and then we’ll be dead in the water,” Spike agreed. “But I saw the gauges for that back in the control cabin and, assuming they aren’t broken too, we’ve got hours before that happens. And I’m sure there’re plenty of supplies aboard to keep us fed in the meantime.”

Gallus folded his forepaws grumpily. “I don’t want to sit here and just pray nothing else bad happens,” he grumbled.

Spike pondered that point for a moment, pacing back and forth. “Well…the helm controls may be broken, but surely Gene Type has tools or parts to fix things like that somewhere onboard, so…maybe we can fix them?”

So that became their new plan of action—to try and restore at least some control of the airship. Fortunately, it didn’t take much searching to uncover not only a box of tools but also the operator’s manual for the airship, which included basic instructions on how to maintain key components. Returning to the control cabin then, they set to work, Gallus taking a shot at repairing the throttle control while Spike worked to see if he could figure out what was wrong with the ship’s wheel, both consulting the manual set between them as needed.

Though there was still the stress of getting themselves to a more lasting safety than they currently had, a sense of calm started to descend upon them as they worked, the first they’d gotten since the fight with Gene Type. And as Gallus proceeded to take apart the housing for the throttle control, his mind reflected back on everything that’d transpired thus far, trying to puzzle out just why it’d taken place at all, because now that he thought about it, Gene Type never made that very clear. He glanced over at where the deceased stallion still lay, now covered with a tarp they’d found while looking for the tools, and began reviewing in his head some of the few things Gene had spouted before his accidental death.

“…he said we,” Gallus murmured aloud as he worked.

“Huh?” Spike prompted, glancing up from the uncovered inner workings of the helm’s back.

“Gene Type,” Gallus remarked, nodding his head over at where he lay. “He said we, like he wasn’t the only one who’d been planning this.”

Spike glanced leerily at the dead pony, the thought of which still unnerved him. “I hope not,” he mumbled as he turned his attention back to the helm. “Because that could mean we’re not out of danger yet.”

“We’re arguably still not out of danger now,” Gallus stressed.

“Yeah, that’s very comforting of you to say, Gallus,” Spike deadpanned back.

“I’m just being realistic,” Gallus argued as he went back to dismantling the throttle control. “And if that is the case, then whatever this mess we’ve stumbled into is, it may go way deeper than some lone scientist suddenly flying off the handle.” He frowned to himself, the implications mounting the more he thought about it. “Which could mean him wanting us dead was way more planned out than it looks. I can only hope him dying instead has put a wrench in whatever those plans are, enough to give us a fighting chance.”

Spike scowled. “I just wish nobody had to die at all,” he growled.

Gallus glanced his way, somewhat surprised at the uncharacteristic resentment. “You’re that bothered by it, huh?” he asked gently.

“And you aren’t?” Spike challenged back. “Why aren’t you more bothered about it?”

Gallus frowned. “Don’t go asking questions you don’t want the answers to.”

Spike eyed him for a moment, but getting the impression Gallus wouldn’t elaborate, he didn’t press. “What I want to know is the reason why at all?” he said, changing the subject.

“Mmm,” Gallus hummed in agreement. “There clearly was at least one, but…heck if I know what.”

“Well…it clearly concerns us somehow.”

“Yeah, but that’s the part I don’t get.” Gallus scratched at his scalp briefly. “I mean, you I can sort of understand, but why me? I’m nobody!”

“You’re not nobody, Gallus,” Spike reassured before considering the matter a second longer. “You know, seeing the reasons we came here at all, it might actually have something to do with our ancestry, like Gene Type said.”

“That’s assuming that wasn’t just an excuse to lure us into a trap,” Gallus reasoned as he began removing the final pieces to uncover the inner workings of the throttle control.

Spike frowned for a second. “But if that’s true…” he began slowly, “…then why did Gene Type even bother conducting those tests on us at all?”

Gallus paused as he set aside the cover, considering the point, but he was swiftly distracted once he saw inside the throttle control’s mechanisms. “Oh great,” he bemoaned.

“What?” Spike asked, leaning over to look, but he swiftly saw what the problem was and hissed.

The scant little of the throttle control lever that hadn’t snapped off from where it linked with the mechanism’s key joint was notably bent to one side, twisting the joint itself in such a brutal way that it was immediately clear why the lever had not only been unwilling to move in the first place, but also probably why it had snapped off instead under the strain.

Gallus grabbed at the mangled joint with his claws, feeling around it, but ultimately only confirmed what was already obvious. “Yeah, that’s irreparably jammed,” he bemoaned. “No way we’re fixing it ourselves.”

“Not unless we replaced it with a new one,” Spike reasoned with a heavy sigh. “Not that we have a replacement.”

“Must’ve hit the lever with that chair a lot harder than I thought,” Gallus groused before pressing his fists into his temples in frustration. “Throwing it was a mistake.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Spike reassured him before drawing the griffon’s attention over to where he’d been examining the inner workings of the ship’s wheel. “But in other news, I’ve been making progress on our steering problem.”

“…And?” Gallus prompted, scooting closer.

“And near as I can figure out, it all seems to be working fine from this end,” Spike said, pulling on the cables that made the system work and demonstrating they were still all properly connected and still moving as they should. “That tells me the steering itself isn’t broken…”

“…but somewhere where it all hooks up with the rudder,” Gallus concluded, catching on. He pulled the operator’s manual to him and flipped through it quickly. “That might be an easy fix if we can find the problem then.”

It just became a matter of actually getting to it, as the mechanisms in question were located deeper inside the airship, where it wasn’t as readily accessible. Consulting the manual lead them into the corridor amidships where they opened up a concealed hatch. This lead into a narrow crawlspace lined with various components for the airship’s internals, and they both leaned in to peer inside.

Spike pulled out a flashlight to shine around within the dark crawlspace, examining the sections of the steering line that ran through here. “Well, it looks like it’s all still connected here,” he murmured aloud. He leaned over to shine the flashlight further down the small passage where it ran all the way to the far end of the ship. “I’m guessing whatever is broken is closer to the rudder then. One of us will have to crawl all the way down there to find out.”

Gallus, who had been looking into the crawlspace leerily, gulped. “It’s, ah…kinda small and cramped in there though, isn’t it?” he mumbled with notably anxiety.

Spike glanced back him, confused for a second, before remembering. “Oh right, I forgot, you’re claustrophobic, aren’t you?”

“Not claustrophobic,” Gallus swiftly corrected out of pride. He shifted awkwardly on his feet. “More…claustro-avoidant.”

“…claustro-avoidant,” Spike deadpanned.

“Yeah, I just avoid tightly enclosed spaces whenever possible.”

“Isn’t that just the same—look, never mind,” Spike pinched at the bridge of his snout for a moment before lowering himself into the open hatchway. “I’ll do it. I’m the smallest one here, so it might as well be me anyway.” He stuffed the operator’s manual into Gallus’s talons. “You stay here and read the instructions to me once I’m down there.”

“Yeah, okay, I can do that,” Gallus said, repositioning the book in his talons so it’d be easier to read. He skimmed through the text briefly as Spike ducked into the crawlspace and started wiggling his way up it, flashlight in paw. “We’re thinking the problem’s definitely something with the rudder then?”

“Well, I’ll double-check the steering line along the way, just in case,” Spike said as he went, “but probably.”

Gallus hummed in reply and continued reviewing the manual as Spike crawled. “Just try not to take too long. The longer we’re adrift in this tub, the further away we get from where any rescue teams will be looking for us.”

“If I know Twilight though, she’s not going to let that stop her from finding us,” Spike replied confidently, his voice becoming somewhat muffled the further he crawled down the passage. “Worst case, we just need to hold out until then.”

“Easier said than done,” Gallus mumbled to himself, before asking, “You think they’ve sent out any search parties yet?”

Spike was quiet for a moment, presumably considering the question. “Depends on whether or not anyone heard our SOS on the radio,” he said. “But there is Lieutenant Dream Chaser to consider!”

“Dream Chaser?”

“Yeah, he’s still on the islet, waiting for us, remember? I’m sure he’s probably realized something’s gone wrong by now. Hay, I’d be surprised if he hasn’t already tried to track us down himself.”

But Gallus, having momentarily forgotten why Dream Chaser hadn’t accompanied them aboard earlier, suddenly came to a horrifying realization. “Spike,” he began slowly, knowing the young dragon probably wouldn’t like hearing this but he knew he needed to say it anyway. “I don’t think Dream’s going to be coming for us.”

Spike seemed surprised by that. “Really? Why not?”

“Because if he could, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have stayed behind in the first place.”

Spike’s voice became hesitant, but he still didn’t seem to be following Gallus’s logic. “…he stayed behind so to watch the carriage.”

“That’s just what Gene Type told us he was doing.”

“What are you saying?”

“Spike, in order for Gene Type to pull off what he tried to do, he would need as little interference as possible. And considering how much trouble he had just keeping us from retaliating, he would’ve wanted to make sure a trained Night Guard that’d no doubt object strongly to his plans would in absolutely no way interfere.”

An ominous silence fell as Spike seemed to realize what Gallus was implying and stopped crawling. “Maybe…maybe Gene Type just did something to knock him out?” he finally suggested hopefully.

“…maybe,” Gallus conceded, but admittedly he only said so for Spike’s benefit. He knew that Dream Chaser would’ve raised the alarm the moment he regained consciousness again, and considering he figured Gene Type would’ve immediately tried to escape had he succeeded with his plans, then he would’ve needed to ensure Dream Chaser could never do that. And as much as he didn’t want to think about it, Gallus could only think of one way Gene Type could do that.

But he kept this to himself and eventually Spike decided to not press the topic, instead pressing further into the crawlspace. “Okay, I’m here at the rudder,” he announced simply a few moments later.

His voice sounded mildly distant now, so much so Spike had raised his voice to make sure he could be heard, and even with that, Gallus felt the need to lean closer to make sure they could clearly communicate. “All right then,” Gallus began and peered through the hatch in Spike’s direction. The little dragon looked like a small and dark lump dimly surrounded by the glowing aura of his flashlight, making Gallus all the more glad it wasn’t him down in the crawlspace. “You didn’t see any problems on your way down there?”

“No, no breaks in the line, so it’s gotta be here at the rudder,” Spike concluded. “So tell me what I should be seeing here so we can figure out what’s wrong.”

“Right,” Gallus replied and consulted the manual for a second. “Okay, you see where the steering line connects with the tiller? The swinging metal joint thing?”

“Yeah, it’s hooked up just fine with that,” Spike reported. “So how’s that supposed to be connected with the rudder?”

“Well, according to the manual, there should be a pole that goes from the rudder, into the airship, and slotting into the tiller, connecting the whole thing together,” Gallus explained.

There was a long moment of silence on Spike’s end. Then, finally: “Uh-oh.”

Gallus tensed. “Uh-oh what?”

“It’s gone.”

The tensing grew worse. “What’s gone?”

“The rudder—it’s gone.”

Gallus looked up sharply from the manual, brow furrowed, then forewent his claustrophobia and stuck his head into the hatchway to gawk at Spike. “…What?!”

“The rudder is just gone,” Spike explained, twisting around in the crawlspace to peer back at Gallus. “I can see the slot in the tiller it’s supposed to hook up to, but that’s slot empty! I can’t see the pole part that’s supposed to hook up with, or any sign of the rudder at all, just a small hole in the hull leading outside that’s probably where it’s all supposed to be.”

Gallus continued gaping at him. “Well…what can you see through that hole?”

He saw Spike lean his head down so to peer through it. “Not much, mostly just the storm outside. Wait, I can see part of the airship’s backend…and what looks like broken hinges.” He turned to look back at Gallus again. “I, uh…think that’s where the rudder is supposed to be.”

“Are you saying the rudder somehow fell off entirely?” Gallus exclaimed, alarmed. “How did that happen?” But no sooner had he asked did he feel another wind-fueled tremor go through the ship, suddenly making him recall the particularly large tremor that’d hit the airship when Gene Type fell on the broken radio…and the distant crack he’d heard elsewhere in the ship. He straightened, pulling his head out of the hatchway to gaze blankly in horror for a moment.

…before hurling the operator’s manual onto the ground and swearing.

A couple moments later Spike reappeared, clambering out of the crawlspace. “I guess that’s that then,” he said dismally as he did this. “We can’t fix something that’s not there at all.”

“That also means we’re sunk,” Gallus added bitterly, “because that means there’s nothing we can do to try and stop this runaway tub.”

As such, they pretty much gave up on the repairs after that. They did briefly float a few ideas of somehow trying to turn the ship manually, ranging from attempting to re-gear the engines so one propeller would give more thrust than the other, to flying out themselves and trying to physically push the craft onto a new course. All of these ideas were fairly swiftly ruled out as impractical, ineffective, or just flat-out impossible.

“Besides,” Gallus eventually reasoned after about an hour of this, “we’re probably miles from the Griffish Isles by now, and like you said before, without any clear idea of where they’re at, we’d probably never find our way back blindly even if we could steer this tub.”

So eventually they just had to conclude they were back to square one, stuck on a runaway airship and lost in a heavy storm at sea. Gallus’s mind did loop back to his original idea of just jumping ship, but Spike’s arguments against that plan bore even more weight than before, especially now that they were so far from the Griffish Isles and getting further still by the moment. So really, the best they could do was stay aboard at least long enough to ride out the rest of the storm and hope, by then, they would be in a better position to do something more proactive.

In the meantime, they returned to the control cabin, as it had the best view of where the airship was flying, to wait for precisely this. They were there for what felt like some time, trying to pass the time. Spike at one point remembered he could send messages with his firebreath, but when he attempted to send one to Twilight, the message immediately rebounded back to him without even leaving the airship. After repeating this a couple more times to similar results, he was forced to conclude that something was blocking them, causing them to return to sender.

“Best guess is that Gene Type has something in place on the airship that, when engaged, blocks messages sent that way,” he reasoned to Gallus.

“Probably set it up deliberately with you in mind then, in case his plans went awry like they did,” Gallus murmured in response. “Any chance we could undo whatever’s doing the blocking?”

“Not without knowing what it is he did to cause it,” Spike replied with a disappointed shake of his head. “And since there’s a high chance he just cast a spell using his magic, it can’t be turned off without the right counter spell.” He then raised a claw to make a promising counterpoint. “However, I could maybe get around it if I try sending a message somewhere off of the airship, maybe a few feet away from it.”

“Maybe,” Gallus agreed, thinking that might be worth trying, but he gazed frustrated out the forward window at the storm outside. “But it’ll still have to wait until this storm dies down first.”

So since this left them essentially in the same position, they continued passing the time, hoping for a change in their circumstances. Spike spent most of it with the operator’s manual, going through it with a fine tooth comb for anything that could help them or for any possible solutions they might have overlooked. The fact that this much time had passed without finding anything made it clear there weren’t really any more answers to be had there though. Gallus, meanwhile, spent his time trying to entertain himself anyway he could. Currently, since it would do nothing anyway, he was lying on his side and idly spinning the ship’s wheel back and forth.

Eventually Spike grew annoyed by it. “Could you please stop that?” he asked in a strained voice. “It’s very distracting.”

Gallus obeyed, but not without releasing a groan in boredom, rubbing at his eyes with his talons. “Just how long has it been now anyway?” he groused aloud.

Spike looked up from the manual then glanced around. “Dunno, my pocketwatch is in my bag in that lab still,” he noted, realizing their things had been left there, forgotten in all the excitement. “I’d have to run down and get it.” He stopped to consider. “I’m sure we’re well into the late afternoon by now though.” He looked out the forward window at the stormy skies they sailed through. “If the sky was clear, we’d probably have a better idea.”

Gallus also glanced out the window. “At least that storm finally seems to be easing up,” he remarked with some relief, seeing the rain and wind had let up and visibility improved to the point they could see ahead of the airship for about mile or more before it vanished in the lingering haze of the storm. Lightning still flashed and rumbled every so often, but otherwise it was still a notable improvement from before. “Hopefully that means we’ve about flown through to the other side of it.”

“I hope so too,” Spike said and looked worryingly over at a gauge he had been periodically glancing at, giving the power levels of the ship’s batteries. “I’m not sure how much longer the power’s going to hold out.”

Gallus frowned, considering that eventuality. “What happens when it does give out?” he asked.

“We’ll be dead in the water,” Spike replied, “But it’s more the ship’s lightning shield I’m worried about.”

“Lightning shield?”

“Yeah, it’s a magic-based protective barrier that surrounds the ship and deflects lightning during storms.” Spike motioned to the manual sitting in his lap. “According to this, it’s a large part of what makes this airship so capable of flying around storms at all. But it feeds off the batteries too, and the ship’s rigged so that the engines are kept running as the priority system, so when the batteries do run low, that lightning shield is going to give out first before the engines do.”

Gallus glanced out at the odd bolt of lightning still flashing within the storm. “Well…maybe by then we’ll be over land and can finally jump ship,” he hoped. “I mean surely we’re going to reach some eventually.”

“Assuming we’re pointed in the direction of land and not just deeper out to sea,” Spike replied.

This earned him a look from Gallus. “I thought I was supposed to be the pessimist on this tub.”

“You can share,” Spike argued back.

Gallus snorted in amusement before letting his gaze wander. It eventually settled upon the thing in the room both of them had pointedly been trying to ignore—Gene Type’s body, still lying where it had fallen. The tarp they’d draped over it helped, but the pony-shaped lump under it was still hard to ignore, especially now that Gallus got to thinking about it again. “You know…we probably ought to do something about that,” he remarked, nodding his head in its direction.

Spike followed his gaze only far enough to see where the griffon was looking, but not far enough to actually lay eye on it. It was clear the whole thing still bothered him greatly, as it hadn’t escaped Gallus’s notice that Spike had sat himself so his back would be towards the body. “I’ve been trying really hard to pretend that’s not even there,” he remarked pointedly, subtly signaling he wanted nothing to do with it at the moment.

Gallus sympathized, but he knew it wasn’t a luxury. “Yeah, but if we’re really going to be stuck here long term, then we’re not going to want to,” he said pointedly. “Bodies decay, after all. And if you think it’s unpleasant to be around now…”

“Well, what do you suggest we do about it, then?” Spike snapped irately, slamming the manual shut.

Gallus considered the question for a moment. “We could throw him overboard,” he suggested. “That’d probably be the simplest option.”

But Spike balked at that suggestion. “That seems callous, even with what he tried to do,” he countered.

“Well, the only other option then would be to store him somewhere,” Gallus said. “Preferably something sealable or cold, but I don’t know if we’re going to find that on this tub.”

Spike thought to himself. “…wasn’t there a big freezer in that lab?” he asked. “Do you think that’d be big enough to hold him?”

Gallus reviewed his memories real quick and realized there was a rectangular chest freezer tucked in one corner of the lab he hadn’t really thought much about until now. “It’d be better than nothing I guess,” he said, standing up. He glanced at Spike upon noticing he hadn’t moved. “Can you help me move him?” he asked gently.

Spike winced, clearly not wanting to. “Can’t…can’t you do it yourself?”

Gallus also winced. “I could if I dragged him, but that’d be kinda rough on him and…” he trailed off, thinking his point made.

Spike closed his eyes so to draw strength, then set aside the manual and stood up. “Okay, let’s be quick about it,” he said reluctantly. He looked like he nearly lost his nerve again the moment he faced Gene Type’s body, but he nevertheless followed Gallus towards it.

Gallus took it upon himself to wrap the tarp more fully around the body, partly to make it easier and partly to give Spike a barrier between it and himself. “Here, I’ll make it easier for you and let you take the lighter end,” he said, motioning for Spike to pick up the rear legs while he moved to take Gene Type by the head. He waited for Spike to reluctantly move into position. “Okay, on three—one…two…three.”

With combined grunts, they hefted Gene Type off the floor and started waddling him out of the control cabin. This was easier said than done, the body naturally having become a dead weight and taking some muscle to lift. Nevertheless, they were managing and slowly started down the corridor towards the stairs for the lower deck. Gallus was managing the task okay, really just wanting to get it done and over with. Spike, however, was clearly trying to not think too hard about what they were doing.

“You’re still really bothered by it, aren’t you?” Gallus asked softly after a moment of carrying in silence.

Spike snorted, angry. “I’m more bothered by the fact it doesn’t bother you,” he complained.

“I am bothered by it,” Gallus assured. “I’ve just…” he sighed, “…had to deal with this kind of thing before.”

“What?” Spike breathed, suddenly alarmed. “Why?”

“I’m a griffon, Spike,” Gallus shirked as they maneuvered awkwardly down the stairs with their cargo, “A predator that hunts other creatures for prey.”

“That is not the same thing as this and you know it!”

Gallus sighed and conceded that point. “Look, I didn’t want to just tell you but…the short of it is that life in Griffonstone isn’t like in Equestria. Bad things can happen to creatures there sometimes. And…when you grow up on its streets like I did…sometimes you end up seeing things you wish you hadn’t.”

He didn’t elaborate further, but it was clear from Spike’s expression that he understood what Gallus was saying. A heavy silence fell for a few moments as they exited the stairs into the lower deck.

“I’m sorry,” Spike finally apologized while they started maneuvering into the lab.

Gallus breathed a heavy but understanding sigh. “It’s okay,” he assured. “Honestly, you’re the lucky one who never had to deal with that.” He then brushed it aside. “Besides, I’m off those streets now so…it’s been better than it was. And I’d rather focus on that anyway.”

“Right,” Spike said, averting his gaze until they arrived at the freezer in question. “Well…here it is. You, uh…you think he’ll fit inside?”

“Only one way to find out,” Gallus said as they sat Gene Type to one side and lifted open the lid. Inside the freezer was already filled with shelves of various supplies presumably for Gene Type’s experiments. “Yeah, we’re going to have to make some room first, but I think this’ll work for now.”

Figuring Gene Type wasn’t in a position to care what happened to the contents anymore, they then proceeded to pull out the full shelves and stacked them haphazardly on the nearby counter. Once it’d been emptied as much as could be, Gene Type’s tarp-wrapped body was lowered inside. He had to be curled up a little in order to fit, but fit he did, and once the body was securely inside, Gallus closed the lid on him with a sigh, pleased to see it still neatly sealed.

“Yup, that’ll hold him for now until somebody can get something better for him,” he said with relief before looking the freezer over. “And bonus—looks like this freezer runs on its own power supply, so it should keep going even after the airship’s batteries run out.”

He went to glance at Spike only to see the little dragon was no longer by his side. Puzzled, he turned around and found that while he’d been working at the freezer, Spike had wandered over to where the cart of examination supplies had been knocked over in the fight and still lay scattered on the floor. At first Gallus thought he was examining some of the tools, but as he stepped closer, he saw Spike’s attention was instead on the mysterious bloodline tablet that had also fallen on the floor, coming partly unwrapped from the cloth covering it. He watched as Spike nervously brushed away the rest of the cloth and examined it in silence for a moment. He then reached out with one claw and gently touched one corner. As before, it immediately lit up with its green glow at his touch.

Spike hissed to himself when it did so, tensing, but Gallus just narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the tablet. “It’s a fake,” he concluded resolutely. “It has to be.”

Spike wasn’t convinced. “Gallus, you can’t fake these things,” he murmured, his gaze distant and shell-shocked as he removed his claw, the tablet going dark again.

“Sure you can!” Gallus retorted. “You just get any old rock, make it into a tablet, carve it up to look like the real thing, and then put a spell on it that makes it glow when you touch it!” He jabbed a claw at the tablet again. “I’ll bet that thing glows no matter who touches it.”

“But why?” Spike asked, turning to look Gallus in the eye. “Why would Gene Type even bother with making such a fake?”

“To lure us into a trap?” Gallus suggested like it was obvious. “To give us a false sense of security? To make it look like he cared? To distract us with magical glowy things while he moved in for the kill?”

“He already had all of that though, from the moment we first stepped aboard!” Spike pointed out. “We suspected nothing! So he could’ve tried to…to…kill us straightaway! He wouldn’t have wasted all that time with those tests if it was all just for show!” Spike motioned back to the tablet on the floor. “If it is a fake, then why go to that much effort?” He shook his head and started to pace. “No, there had to be a reason for it all. He still needed those tests so to confirm…something he wasn’t positive about.”

“Confirm what, though?” Gallus challenged, still skeptical. “At that point, what was there that still needed confirming? He knew who we were already!”

Spike gazed back at the tablet. “He said there was more to us than we thought, though.” He looked back at Gallus. “What if he actually meant that, Gallus?”

Gallus’s felt his brow furrow as he attempted to follow along. “But what does that even mean?” he asked. He pinched his beak for a second. “Okay, let’s assume for a second that thing is real,” he began, pointing at that tablet. “It lights up for me too, remember?” He tapped his own talon upon it long enough to prove it. “So what would that mean?”

Spike hesitated, scratching at his spines. “Well…it’s a bloodline stone, so…”

“Exactly,” Gallus stressed. “It’d mean that we’re both somehow of that same bloodline.” He smirked at the silliness of the idea. “And do I look like a dragon to you?”

“…no,” Spike admitted.

“And are you a griffon, in any shape or form?”

Spike smiled a little, seeing Gallus’s point. “No, obviously not.”

“Then it has to be a fake.” He placed a reassuring paw on Spike’s shoulder. “Look, for all we know, we could be trying to make sense of something that was never meant to.”

Spike sighed. “Maybe you’re right,” he admitted, averting his gaze. “But I just—” He was cut short when there was a sudden electrical whine deep within the airship and the lights dimmed briefly. Confused, they both looked upward for an explanation when the lighting resumed its normal levels. “…what was that?” he asked.

“I dunno, but we probably ought to go back upstairs and check it out,” Gallus suggested, turning to exit the lab.

As they left though, he didn’t miss that Spike still stopped to wrap the tablet back in its cloth and bring it with.

They hurried back to the control cabin, which was still the same as they’d left it, except now a small flashing light accompanied by a soft buzzer had switched on at the helm. Concerned, they both approached it to try and determine what was wrong, Spike arriving there first as he set aside the bloodline tablet and started looking over the various gauges. Gallus, meanwhile, surveyed the room for other signs of anything wrong.

Instead, his eyes fell upon a long dark smudge on the horizon through the forward window. “Hey!” he exclaimed, moving around the helm to get a closer look. “I think we’re finally nearing land!”

“Huh?” Spike said, looking up from the gauges and joined him, squinting at the smudge slowly getting bigger and larger. “Hey, I think you’re right! That’s actually good timing, because, uh…” he jabbed his thumb back at the helm with a wince, “…turns out that buzzer’s to indicate the batteries have run low enough for the lightning shield to fail.”

Gallus turned to look at him with an ominous expression, momentarily unsure how to respond. Eventually the weather beat him to it when a flash of lightning snaked through the sky nearby. Despite lightning like this having been commonplace the whole time they’d been flying through the storm, to the point they’d been tuning it out for hours, this made them both jump in alarm.

“Okay, that makes that seem a whole lot more concerning now,” Gallus snarked in worry, instinctively backing away from the forward window.

“It’s not all that bad now that we’re finally reaching land again,” Spike pointed out. “Once we’ve flown a little closer, we can probably jump ship like you said. We just have to wait a little longer to get there.”

“Right,” Gallus replied, but he was filled with dread. “So…at the risk of jinxing ourselves…” he rapped his fist on the wooden wall of the cabin as an added precaution, “…what happens if we get struck before then?”

Spike could only shrug. “I really don’t know. I guess it depends on where it hits the airship.” A split-second pause, then, “If it hits the airship.” Then he, too, rapped his knuckles on the wood of the wall.

So they tensely settled down to wait, hoping for the best and watching the dark smudge inch ever closer. The closer they sailed towards it, the more obvious it was, indeed, land, and soon it was apparent it was no small stretch of land either, as it appeared to extend for miles in all directions beyond its coastline—the lingering mist of the storm had just kept it hidden from view until they’d gotten closer.

“Look, I think I can see a little dirt road leading inland,” Gallus pointed as they drew to around a mile from shore. “That suggests there’s probably some civilization somewhere nearby. If we can find them, maybe they can help us.”

“I think this might even be mainland that we’re approaching,” Spike reasoned, starting to regain his hope, “which would be even better!”

“If that’s the case, then we’ve either managed to get back to the shore of Equestria,” Gallus speculated, “Or, more likely, we’ve flown all the way across the Celestial Sea to the next continent.”

Spike perked up at that. “The Griffon Kingdom is on the next continent—could we be near there?”

Gallus instead groaned. “Maybe, I can’t tell from here, but part of me hopes not, because I’m not sure how much that’d actually…”

He was cut short when there was a sudden and bellowing CRACK that rattled the whole airship, accompanied with a blinding flash of light that made both of them quickly cover their eyes in pain. It was all over in the same instant it had transpired, but an ominous silence followed except for the pained hissing of the two creatures aboard and the airship letting out a soft creak as it chugged on.

“What the budgie was that?” Gallus asked as he attempted to blink the stars out of his strained, but thankfully recovering, eyes.

“I’m…I’m not sure!” Spike admitted as he rubbed at his own eyes. “I think it was another bolt of lightning!”

“Finches, that one was close then!” Gallus declared as he rose fully to his feet again. “We seriously need to…” he trailed off, holding still as he stopped to feel the movements of the airship under his feet and realizing something wasn’t right. Alarmed, he ran back to the helm to check the altimeter and felt his stomach drop when he saw its readings. “Spike, unless the altimeter is broken, we’re dropping in altitude,” he reported with grave concern.

The airship seemed to realize this itself as just seconds later another, more shrill, alarm went off over on the ballast control board. Spike, the closest, hurried over to determine what was wrong, only to grow more panicked as he did so. “We’re losing lifting gas out of the ship’s envelope!”

“The what?” Gallus said, not understanding.

“The big balloon that’s keeping us in the air!” Spike clarified hotly as he scanned the board, all of its gauges going down. “That bolt of lightning must’ve ripped a hole in it!”

Gallus felt his heart leap into his throat and rushed to Spike’s side. “How fast are we leaking?”

“Too fast!” Spike replied helplessly as he tried to think of something to do. “We’ll run out in a manner of minutes!” He reached for the valve controls for the lifting gas. “We’ll have to shut off the lines before we run out!”

“No!” Gallus objected and swiftly grabbed the lever in question from Spike, pushing it all the way open instead of closing it. “You do that and we’ll just run out faster and crash into the sea! We need to be pumping in all the gas we can to try and keep us in the air for as long as possible!” He continued until all of the valves were fully open, at which point the amount of pressure loss appeared to slow notably, but certainly hadn’t stopped. “Hopefully that’ll be enough until we’re at least closer to land—we might have to travel the rest of the distance ourselves.” He turned to Spike. “You better run and grab our bags while I try and keep this tub in the air.”

Spike nodded and ran out of the control room. In the meantime, Gallus went back and forth monitoring the ballast gauges and the altimeter, both of which continued to go down at a worrying rate. He searched around for anything else he could do to at least try and delay the inevitable, thinking there was probably something if he looked hard enough, but swiftly found that continuing to pump lifting gas into an envelope leaking it out like a sieve really was the best option he had. He started to think he should’ve instead just called it a lost cause and gone with Spike so to go ahead and bail immediately but it was too late for that now.

Looking to the forward window though, he figured that would do for a quick escape and grabbed the chair and threw it at it so to break it open. Instead, it just bounced ineffectively off it. Frustrated, he tried a couple more times with much the same results before Spike came hurrying back in with their bags.

“Here,” he said, handing Gallus his bag after witnessing the griffon’s latest failed attempt to break the glass then doubling back to retrieve the bloodline stone from where he’d left it. “Trying to give us an escape route?”

“Trying, but this dumb window is apparently made of unbreakium or something!” Gallus groused, kicking the chair for this failure before focusing on pulling his bag onto his back.

While he was doing that, Spike pressed his face into the glass so to peer below them. They had dropped altitude significantly, so much so that there’d probably be risk of running into buildings if any were around. But he saw they’d also nearly reached shore. “I think we’re going to make it over land, though!” he pointed out optimistically.

Gallus joined him at the forward window. “Yeah, I think you’re right,” he said with a little relief. “That’ll make bailing easier as we won’t have to go as far to land.”

Spike watched as the airship formally sailed over the border between sea and land. “In fact, we’re over land now!” he said, and motioned ahead of them with some relief. “So at least this thing will come down on something solid. If we still had a functioning helm, we might even be able to more or less land it ourselves when it hits ground.”

Gallus suddenly tensed. “Yeah, hits ground,” he said, before looking at Spike in alarm, “at full throttle.”

Spike’s eyes widened as he realized too, then stared at the now all-too-close ground the ship was about to slam into. “Uh, we should go!” he declared, starting for the door.

“Agreed!” Gallus said, following and eager to get off while they still had some altitude to do it with.

Only it turned out they already had less than suspected. Before they could reach the cabin door, the airship suddenly jerked hard to one side as it skimmed an unnoticed and jagged outcropping sitting not far inland. Getting thrown off their feet, Gallus and Spike skidded to one side of the control cabin with most of the other loose objects in the room. Gallus heard other objects tumbling and crashing elsewhere in the ship as well. They were just clambering back to their feet though when the airship’s other side likewise banged into something, this time the somewhat pointed peak of a hill, sending them skidding to the other side of the cabin now. One or both of the engines were heard sputtering at that point and the fuse box Gallus had left open earlier suddenly shorted out in a flash of sparks.

Noticing the airship drop into a shallow dive, careening towards a sizeable grove of trees that filled the land past the shore, Gallus saw they had no more time to escape and would have to ride it out, for better or worse. “Brace yourself!” he told Spike, pulling the dragon close.

He had time enough to see tree limbs start to slap into the forward window before the nose of the airship harshly hit ground, sending everything within hurtling forward, Gallus and Spike slamming into the helm itself. The fuse box sparked again and the lighting within the cabin suddenly went out. The airship jerked again as it now skidded along, feeling as if it had bounced upon the ground. Twangs were heard as the cables tying the lifting envelope to the rest of the airship tore away. One of the engines released a distant bang as it catastrophically failed from the stress. Something heavy hit the forward window and it finally shattered in a spray of jagged shards that flew around Gallus and Spike using the helm as a shield. Heavy thumps of objects elsewhere from the ship getting thrown out of place echoed throughout the airship. There was a sudden crack and a heavy beam from the roof of the cabin slammed into the floor near them, causing Spike to yelp in surprise.

The airship’s motion must have caused it to skid forward for several more feet before finally friction won out and it jerked to an abrupt halt, throwing Spike and Gallus into the helm one last time. Quiet then finally fell except for the airship continuing to settle with a series of soft creaks and groans. Gallus remained where he was for a moment longer, waiting for his heart to stop trying to burst out of his chest first before daring to consider they had just survived that relatively unscathed. He realized he had at some point bodily wrapped himself around Spike and glanced down at the little dragon pressed into his chest, silently inquiring if he was hurt.

Fortunately, Spike nodded. “I’m all right,” he assured, shaken. “You?”

“Yeah,” Gallus answered in a clipped voice. He started to unwrap himself from Spike and shakily pick himself up, turning to survey the damage.

The control cabin was now dark, listing somewhat to one side and an overall mess, but otherwise surprisingly intact. He turned to peer out the broken forward window to see the trees and other foliage the airship had come to a stop against, envisioning the trail of destruction the airship had probably wrought as it slid to its final resting place. He was amazed it wasn’t way worse than it was.

Spike seemed to be thinking the same as he unsteadily rose to his feet too. “Nice landing,” he remarked sarcastically.

“Yeah,” Gallus agreed, before patting the dragon on the back. “So much for not jinxing ourselves.”

The quip seemed to break the tension and caused them both to break down into cathartic and relieving laughter.

Author's Note:

Comments

[fluffytailmofu]

Can I just say I'm impressed with the level of thought and detail that went into the engineering of the airship- especially when it would only be relevant for this one chapter? Because I definitely am, and it's obvious it took a lot of research into engineering terminology, plus creativity for Equestrian magical systems.

Beyond that... I'm trying to speculate as to why Gallus and Spike would both be reacting to the bloodline stone. I don't have anything that answers the question as to why Gene Type wanted to kill them, but I do have some theories as to how they could be related despite the species difference. The first is a shapeshifting species such as a Changeling, who had a child with a dragon, and then the Changeling-dragon hybrid had both dragon descendants and, via shapeshifting, the potential to have descendants from other species such as griffons. The second is a dragon who had a species-shifting spell briefly cast on it, similar to when the Mane 6 were changed into Breezies by Twilight, and sired a child with a griffon. The first theory at least goes some way to partially explaining Gene Type's worry about what the two of them are, while the second would be just one much smaller piece in a larger puzzle.

I strongly suspect that neither theory is correct, and the truth will be something far more creative.

[SpikeSmolder fan]

Sweet banter between Gallus/Spike during this tense situation, including the discussion of dealing with that nut Gene's body!

And speaking of which, Gallus spoke my thoughts about whether that guard's alive or not after his mysterious disapperance after their Gene encounter, here's hoping he made it though!

Finally as for the crash, well any landing you can walk away from is a good landing, which it's good in this case since we don't know what's out there when they step out of that airship! Guess we'll find out next time!

[Yuri Bacon]

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Scyphi is a confirmed nerd for airships. Grief is the Price We Pay involved an airship in great detail too.

[Scyphi]

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'Tis true, but it's also true I do pride myself on doing my research for stories where relevant and possible, and the cited areas of this chapter is a good example of such.