Love, Sugar, and Sails

by DSNesmith

27. Up in Smoke

Midnight was fast approaching. The air rushed through Wheatie’s feathers as he dove toward his destination. Pulling up at the last second, he beat his wings mightily as he landed on the street right in front of Petalbloom’s modest house. He folded his wings to his back and rapped four times on her door.

There were some muffled hoofsteps from within. The doorknob turned and the door creaked open, revealing a tired-looking Captain Petalbloom. She frowned when she recognized him. “Sergeant. Couldn’t this wait till tomorrow?”

“Ambassador Milliden is a full-fledged traitor.” Wheatie held eye contact intently. “He’s taking bribes, intentionally sabotaging Equestrian-Zyran relations, and he’s going to commit further treason this week by defecting to the Dromedarians during an attack that will begin when he signals it.”

Petalbloom had gone ashen. “You’re certain?”

“I heard it from his own mouth. We don’t have long. He knows we’re on to him, and that means we’ve only got a brief window before he disappears.”

The captain nodded, her jaw set. “One minute.” She vanished back inside. There were rattling and rustling sounds from within, before she re-emerged wearing her rumpled uniform and a lightweight civilian grade hoof-mace. “Let’s go.”

Wheatie bent a knee and spread his wings. “Hop on.” Petalbloom had clearly flown before, as she leaped onto his back without hesitation, settling into a secure position. Wheatie took off, feeling the hot air breeze past his face.

Petalbloom leaned down and yelled into his ear over the rushing wind. “Where is Milliden now? Where are we headed?”

Wheatie turned his head and shouted back. “He told me to meet him in his office. I think he wanted to send me and Zanaya sniffing after false leads with some misinformation. Either that, or he’s sending us to the embassy to buy himself time to destroy evidence at his home. If he’s not there, we can fly to his house in a little more than ten minutes, not nearly enough time for him to get away.”

Petalbloom’s eyes narrowed. “Good. We’ll end this mess tonight.” Wheatie could feel the tension in her muscles. “What about the zebras? How much do they know?”

“Everything.” Wheatie waited apprehensively for her reaction.

For a few moments, the only noise was the low roar of the wind. Petalbloom shook her head. “Well, there’s no helping it now. Let’s hope that when this is done, we can still patch things up with the Marquis.”

“If we find Rye, he’ll take care of it.” Wheatie spotted the embassy district in the distance. It would take another ten minutes to reach their target.

“You’ve got a lot of confidence in that little stallion,” said Petalbloom curiously.

Wheatie smiled thinly. “If he’s half the pony his mother is, then he’ll do his job better than anypony I know.”

“I hope you’re right.” Petalbloom looked worried. “Can Milliden tell us where he and Tyria are?”

“He said no, but I’m willing to bet he can tell us some good places to look. Like the pirates’ main base, for starters.”

“If they’ve hurt Tyria—” Petalbloom was trembling with suppressed anger. “She was never the bravest pony, but she’s one of mine. I look after my ponies.”

The flight felt agonizingly slow, despite the astonishing flight speed drilled into every Firewing from the first day of training. When they finally landed in front of the Equestrian embassy, Petalbloom slid off his back to land on the cobblestones with a clank from her hoof-mace. Wheatie looked up to the two windows of Milliden’s office. The curtains were closed, but the glow of lantern light from within was unmistakable.

Wheatie and Petalbloom marched into the building, racing up the stairs toward the office. Wheatie paused beside the half-open door to his chambers, debating whether he needed his armor, but decided that the time was more important. He followed Petalbloom up to the office door, taking a position on the other side.

The captain nodded to him. “On three. One. Two.” She reared back. “Three!” she yelled, bringing the hoof mace crashing down against the door and slamming it open. The two burst into the well-lit room. A zebra dressed in a black cloak whirled on her seat cushion in front of the ambassador’s desk and screamed.

The Equestrians whipped around, looking for any sign of Milliden. The office appeared to be empty except for the black-cloaked zebra. She was still screaming, covering her head with her forelegs. Wheatie swore. “Not here.”

Petalbloom shut the door behind them. “He might be hiding.”

“There’s nowhere to hide in here. I’ve been over every inch of this office a dozen times.” Wheatie winced, turning to the zebra. “Look, whoever you are, be quiet. We’re not going to hurt you.”

The zebra stopped shrieking, but not trembling. She tentatively lowered her forelegs, looking at the two of them with wide eyes. She was a normal-looking zebra, with a natural, if slightly frazzled, mohawk and no clothing aside from the simple black cloak. She stared at Wheatie with surprise. “Y-you? What are you doing here?”

Wheatie tilted his head, looking at her. Wait… put the hair down, make it curly. It’s… “Zedya?” He blinked, nonplussed. “What are you doing here?”

The zebra courtesan looked remarkably ordinary without the trappings of the Bareback Rider surrounding her. She pulled her cloak around her tightly as if to shield herself from the Equestrians. “Ambassador Milliden requested my presence. He said it was important. He even paid Mistress Zami for the entire night. I assumed…” she cast an uncertain glance toward Petalbloom.

Wheatie waved a hoof in dismissal. “The captain here knows all about Milliden’s ties to the pirates. What did he want with you tonight?”

“I don’t know,” said Zedya fearfully. “I assumed it was about the Pit Vipers. Some large package he wanted me to move, perhaps. He was here when I arrived, but stepped out almost as soon as I got in and hasn’t returned. He didn’t tell me anything before he left except that he’d be back shortly.”

“This doesn’t make sense.” Wheatie scowled. “Why would he risk you and I meeting each oth—”

There was a click from the door lock.

Petalbloom and Wheatie turned to the door. “Oh, no,” breathed Wheatie. He twisted the doorknob with his hooves. It didn’t budge. He gritted his teeth, rattling the knob, and then slammed his shoulder into the door.

The captain raced across the room to the windows, ripping aside the interior curtains to reveal a series of haphazard boards nailed across the glass. “Looks like a rush job.”

Zedya quashed a whinny of fear. “What’s going on?”

“He’s locked us in,” said Wheatie, slamming his shoulder against the door again. “Damn! He must have been hiding in my quarters. If I’d gone in for my armor—” He bashed the door again. The wood around the hinges was starting to splinter, but not fast enough.

“This won’t slow us down for long,” said Petalbloom, starting to pound away at the wooden planks with her hoof-mace. “He won’t get far.”

“No, Captain,” said Wheatie, still slamming up against the door. “He’s not trying to stall us, he’s trying to get rid of all the evidence. Including her.” He pointed to Zedya.

The zebra wilted. “What!?”

Petalbloom sniffed. “Do you smell something burning?”

A crackling hiss broke the tense silence. Wheatie froze. “Oh, HELL.” He raced over to the ambassador’s desk, reached under the lip, and flipped it completely over to reveal an unmarked barrel. A thin cable extended down through a roughly cut hole in the floor. The end was sparkling, and rapidly racing up toward the barrel.

“Bomb!” shouted Wheatie. “No time for the door, get that window open!” He wrapped a hoof in Zedya’s cloak and dragged her toward the captain. Petalbloom had broken the first of the three boards blocking their escape. Wheatie turned his head to see the fire approaching the end of the fuse. They were out of time.

He braced, then launched himself at the captain. The three of them crashed into the window, their combined weight smashing the last plank and shattering the glass. They sailed out over the city street, flying in the air for one brief moment.

The office exploded. Wheatie felt the blazing heat on his back, and the force of the explosion sent the three of them flying further out. He lost his grip on the two mares, and all of them went tumbling down to a painful crash-landing in the street.

There was a second explosion as the rest of the blackpowder went off, and cinders showered the streets. Wheatie lifted his head to see the entire top floor of the embassy in flames. A thick column of smoke was starting to rise into the night. His head slumped back to the ground, as he tried to catch his breath after the fall that had knocked the wind out of him.

Wheatie’s ears were ringing. He remembered the battle at the bridge of Trellow so long ago, and the damage the explosions there had done to the ponies. Some of the Westermin infantry had been permanently deafened by the blasts. He felt a moment of panic, but the muted sound of someone calling out reached his ears. Slowly, through a piercing whine, his hearing began to return.

“Wheatie!” called a familiar voice, made tinny by his shell-shocked eardrums. “Wheatie!”

“Zanaya!” he croaked. “Over here!”

From the street beyond the embassy, she came running with four burly zebras in tow. “Wheatie!” She reached him, embracing him with both forelegs and turning him over to face the sky. “How badly are you hurt, soldier boy?”

“Not bad,” he lied, wincing. His chest felt sore, possibly a broken rib, but they didn’t have time to check. “Milliden was here, Zan. He can’t have gotten far. We’ve got to catch him before he goes underground.”

Zanaya stood, barking orders to her companions. “Zabrick, get to the fire department! Get that blaze put out. Zellick, see to the captain and that zebra. Zebban, Zeke, get down to the port now and lock it down. I don’t want any ships leaving the bay until the Commissioner herself gives the all-clear. We’ve got a class-zero emergency here.”

The zebras snapped her smart salutes, and raced off to complete their assigned tasks. Zanaya turned back to Wheatie, brushing a hoof on his face with worry. “I brought them to help take Milliden in, but it looks like it’s up to us now.”

“Yeah.” Wheatie pushed himself upright, groaning in pain. It wasn’t a broken rib, at least, or he’d be curling up in agony right now. Probably just one hell of an oncoming bruise. “I don’t think I can carry you right now, Zan.”

“Can you still fly? If he’s still nearby, you can spot him from the air.”

Wheatie nodded, flapping his wings, and taking flight. He shook his head, trying to clear away the low drone that had taken up residence in his ears. Hopefully, the damage wouldn't be permanent. He soared up above the flaming ruin of the embassy, scanning the streets below. It was never truly dark in Zyre, even at midnight, and Milliden’s yellow robes were easily spotted in the warm glow of the street lanterns. “He’s heading east! Go after him, I’ll head him off!” He shot off as Zanaya yelled an acknowledgment from below.

He streaked after the ambassador, who was moving astonishingly fast for a non-athletic pony in heavy robes. But even the fastest runner couldn’t outpace a Firewing in flight. Wheatie gained on him rapidly, tearing through the air with furious purpose. As Milliden neared the exit of an alleyway, Wheatie whirled down, slamming hoof-first into the ground in front of the ambassador.

“End of the line, Milliden.” He spread his legs into a combat stance.

“I don’t think so,” said Milliden calmly. He thrust a hoof into his robes and whipped out a vial at Wheatie’s face. The vial smashed across his nose, releasing a cloud of pink, noxious gas.

Wheatie’s eyes burned, and his lungs filled with smoke. Coughing, he stumbled backwards. He reached up to his eyes, trying to wipe away the burning chemicals, but tripped and fell. He heard Milliden’s hooves beat a hasty exit eastward.

Finding his hooves again, Wheatie once more took flight. He was blinded by tears and pain, swerving drunkenly in the air as he tried to suck in a breath of fresh air. Below, Zanaya yelled up to him, “Which way?”

“Still east!” shouted Wheatie. “He must be heading for the city gate! If he gets into the jungle—”

“Damn! We’ll never find him. Hurry to the gate, Wheatie! I’ll meet you there.” Zanaya took off into the winding streets.

Wheatie shook his head, still trying to clear off the vile stuff Milliden had hit him with. He blinked rapidly, feeling tears run down his cheeks. His vision was blurry, but his internal compass pointed him eastward. With a powerful flap of his wings, he was off once again.

By the time his sight cleared, Milliden was long lost in the maze of houses and apartments. He trusted his gut and went straight for the gate that led to the jungle, reaching it after a few minutes of flying time. He landed breathlessly by the astonished guards, a pair of zebras standing watch at the little-used wide double-doors linking the city to the jungle outside the walls.

“Guards!” he said, still breathing hard. “I’m working with the Watch. Did a pony wearing yellow robes just pass through here?”

Still reeling from his arrival, one of the guards nodded. “Ambassador Milliden. He comes through here at least once a week. Didn’t have his wood this time, though.”

Wood? The invasion plan. He must be building a signal pyre somewhere in the jungle. Wheatie bobbed his head in thanks, too busy sucking down air to speak. He pushed open the door when he heard Zanaya’s voice shout behind him.

“Wait up!” She came galloping up to the gate. “Did we miss him?”

“Yes,” gasped Wheatie. “Let’s go, before he gets too far.” They raced out into the rainforest.

There was a path leading into the jungle, and Wheatie could see a speck of yellow far in the distance. “After him!” The two charged into the trees, heading after him as fast as they could. The foliage above quickly thickened to the point where flying would be useless; Wheatie wouldn’t be able to see anything from the air. He focused intently on Milliden’s distant form, barely visible in the faint moonlight filtering through the trees.

They were beginning to catch up to him when Milliden took an abrupt right turn off the trail and into the thick of the jungle. Wheatie and Zanaya plunged in after him, unwilling to let their prey escape after weeks of hunting.

Roots and branches leaped from the darkness to block their way. They vaulted past the obstacles as they came, keeping up the chase. Milliden was lost in the thick greenery, but he was heading south. The bushes and trees were so thick that he couldn’t take too much of a different route than them.

Suddenly the trees opened up to reveal a wide river. Zanaya and Wheatie skidded to a halt, looking down. Milliden was a few hundred meters east of them, climbing the bank on the opposite side of the stream. He looked back and spotted them, and Wheatie caught a distant curse. The ambassador scrambled up and vanished into the trees.

Wheatie took off and slipped his forelegs under Zanaya’s. He hoisted her up with a roar of pain, and flew them both across the river in seconds. He dropped her on the other side, nearly crashing on the ground, but staggering to a semblance of stability. They recovered for a moment, then resumed the pursuit.

There was a noticeable incline to the ground now. They were running up the base of the island’s volcano, as evidenced by the incredibly lush foliage around them, growing strong in the mineral-rich soil. “Where,” panted Wheatie between gallops, “in the blazes is he heading?”

Zanaya just shook her head, too focused on the run to speak. They charged forward, leaping over tree roots and ditches. The trees around them were beginning to thin, but there was still no obvious path forward. Milliden clearly knew this route well, so the only hope they had of catching him was their superior speed.

Wheatie caught a flash of yellow through the trees, and yelled wordlessly with a pointed hoof. They followed Milliden out into the thinnest section of forest yet, and Wheatie looked up through the sparse canopy toward the looming volcano above.

Streaks of fiery lava glowed in the night, running slowly but ceaselessly down the mountain into the ocean, where they made a fog of boiling steam. The peak was shrouded by black smoke, distinctly visible against the dark blue sky. The slopes of the active volcano were bare of trees, far too hot to support green life.

They emerged from the last of the treeline into the wasteland ringing the volcano’s base. The ground turned abruptly from dirt into broken shards of shale and obsidian, the air almost immediately thinning and growing arid. Ahead, Milliden was racing up a faint path that climbed up toward the mountain.

Wheatie leaped into the open air. He unfurled his wings, riding a thermal up high above the ground, locking in on his target and preparing to pursue. Suddenly, the air seemed to freeze around him, and he plummeted. Turning the fall into a controlled dive, he rolled out, but a blast of hot air from above sent him careening toward the mountainside. Instinctively, he tucked and rolled, hitting the ground but coming out unharmed.

Zanaya caught up to him in seconds. “You okay?”

“The air here’s too turbulent. I can’t fly like this.” Wheatie panted, looking up at Milliden’s diminishing form. “Where is he going?”

“No idea,” said Zanaya, her chest heaving. “But there’s only one path up the mountain, and he can’t fly. We’ve got him cornered, now.”

“Let’s not assume that. He could have a hot air balloon stashed up here.”

Zanaya winced. “Point taken. All right, let’s keep running.”

They set off at a swift canter, too exhausted to continue a full gallop. They followed the winding path as it climbed higher and higher, until the jungle was an indistinct green blur beneath them. The city was still visible, ten-thousand tiny pinpricks of light in the night, with ships on the moonlit waters of the bay.

Above, a sudden wind caught the smoke surrounding the peak of the mountain, clearing it for a few moments and revealing a large complex of black stone buildings. The smoke returned almost immediately, covering it again.

The smog was thinner up close. Wheatie found it only mildly difficult and irritating to breathe as they approached the peak. The volcano was not as high as many Equestrian mountains, and certainly not as high as the clouds above. Zanaya didn’t seem to be handling it as well, however. Wheatie could read her well enough now to see that she was shaking a little whenever she looked down.

They came at last to the building complex, which was surrounded by a high stone wall. Wheatie reached out and touched the stone, wiping away a thick layer of soot to reveal gray-white rock underneath. “What is this place?”

“It’s the old research facility,” said Zanaya, slightly awed. She looked up at the wall, which had to be at least six meters high. “A hundred or so years ago, the Antellucían Academy of the Arts and Sciences sent an expedition up here to study the volcano. They built this place to be completely impenetrable by lava. Heat wards, flame retardant building materials, walls shaped to channel the lava around the facility. But none of that helped much when a cloud of toxic gas came rolling down the mountainside.” She shook her head. “After the disaster, the project was discontinued. It’s been abandoned for decades.”

“I’ll bet anything that Milliden’s pile of signal wood is in here somewhere,” said Wheatie, gesturing toward the slightly open gate in the wall. “Let’s go get him.”

They entered the facility, closing and barring the gate behind them. Dozens of tall stone buildings stood inside the compound, all completely blackened with soot and ash. The place was totally deserted. A low wind whispered through the buildings, setting Wheatie’s teeth on edge.

Together, Wheatie and Zanaya prowled forward through the structures. The tallest of them all, a thin tower with windows, stood at the far side of the complex next to the corner of the wall. Wheatie looked up at the top and saw the tip of a large pile of wood. His eyes narrowed, and he pointed up to it.

Zanaya nodded. They silently made their way to the building, slipping inside through the empty doorway. The building turned out to be a laboratory of some kind, filled with tables and benches with stacks of parchment and inkwells alongside instruments of unidentifiable purpose. Everything was covered with soot.

They found a spiral stairway in the center of the building. Cautiously, they began to climb, making their way up to the roof. As they rounded the stairwell for the fourth time, they were greeted by outside moonlight filtering in through the opening to the roof. Wheatie could hear Milliden above, quietly swearing up a storm.

Wheatie and Zanaya emerged onto the roof, finding themselves standing before an absolutely enormous pile of firewood. If Milliden had been building it with legfuls of wood, it must have taken him years of carting it up the steep mountain incline. It suddenly made sense how he was in such good shape for a diplomat.

Milliden was sitting beside the pile, his robes in tatters, with sticks and leaves caught in the fabric. He was striking a flint and cursing. “Light, damn you.”

Zanaya stepped forward. “It’s over, Arcturus. Drop the flint and step away.”

The ambassador whipped around, staring at them. Zanaya continued, her voice betraying no hint of how tired she had to be. “You’re under arrest for conspiracy to commit piracy, for aiding enemies of the state, and for enabling a hostile power to threaten the security of Zyre. Come quietly, and we won’t have to hurt you.”

Milliden tensed, looking between the two of them and obviously weighing his options. There was only one possible conclusion, and indeed, his head drooped and he seemed to deflate. He exhaled heavily. “It seems you win after all, Sergeant.”

Wheatie didn’t feel very happy about their victory. The damage this stallion had caused might already be irreparable. “I want to know why, Milliden. Was it just for money?”

“The money certainly helped,” said Milliden. “But Celestia brought this on herself. When you disrespect your employees, it has a way of biting you in the royal ass.”

He scowled. “Grypha was preparing for war. I warned her, time and again, that she needed to prepare. I told her that no negotiations were ever going to stop King Aelianus and that Shrikefeather monster from attacking Equestria, but she refused to listen to reason. Instead, she reassigned me to this hellhole, dealing with Marquis Zahira and her cronies.” His eyes burned with barely-suppressed rage. “And then when war came to Equestria, just as I had predicted, the casualties were immense. You yourself can attest that, Sergeant.”

Wheatie shook his head, pained. “So. You felt unappreciated.”

“I was unappreciated. She gave me all the blame for the breakdown in negotiations with the griffons, and ignored my warnings thanks to her own ego. And her blind naiveté cost tens of thousands their lives.”

“Have you considered that she wasn’t ignoring you, Milliden?” Wheatie suddenly felt unutterably weary. The long run and the reminders of those old battles were sucking the vitality right out of him. “The Princess isn’t blind. She knew the griffons were getting close to war. But Equestria was completely disunited. A declaration of war on our end would have simply split the country in two—as it did, if you’ll remember. Celestia wanted a peaceful solution. Or at least to delay the griffons with negotiations for another few years.”

Milliden snorted. “So you say. But the preparations I suggested would have saved countless lives. I feel no loyalty for someone willing to throw away their people in the foolish pursuit of peace with savages.”

Wheatie sighed. “When did the Dromedarians buy you?”

“They approached me two months after I arrived at my post here.” Milliden sneered. “I had some debts they took care of in exchange for a little insider information on Equestrian goals in the region. Things grew from there. It became plain that they were grooming me for some task, though they didn’t tell me what until Viridian entered the picture.”

Zanaya nearly leaped forward. “Who is he?”

“Judging from his eyes, he’s a Nordpony. No one knows what his real name is. I introduced him to the Dromedarians, and since then I’ve been their intermediary with him. Zedya handles the message drop offs. I don’t suppose that explosion killed her? A pity.”

Wheatie snarled. “You’re a callous son of a bitch, Arcturus.”

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth? Or your friend here?” Milliden’s sneer widened. “Not very professional, sleeping with the policemare in charge of investigating crimes at your embassy. That doesn’t look so good to an outsider, Sergeant. I’m sure my legal advocate will find it very interesting.”

Wheatie restrained himself from decking the ambassador. “You won’t be seeing a barrister, Milliden. You’re headed back with me on the first boat to Equestria. Celestia herself will decide what to do with you.”

“I doubt the zebras have the same opinion,” said Milliden with a thin smile.

Zanaya swallowed. “Wheatie, he’s right. I know the plan was to keep this a domestic matter, but now that Commissioner Zireena knows everything about this whole mess, I don’t think you’ll be able to get him out of here until he’s been tried by a Zyran court.”

Wheatie bowed his head, frustrated beyond his limits. Milliden snickered. “Well. I think I’ve said enough to prove I’m willing to cooperate, given a good enough deal. Now, I’d like to meet my legal advisory before we continue this discussion.”

Snapping his head up, Wheatie snarled. “Fine. One last thing, then.” He walked up to Milliden, who slowly backed away. Wheatie strode forward until the ambassador reached the edge of the roof. “Where are Ambassador Strudel and Ensign Metrel?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea.” Milliden spared a glance behind him, down four stories to the hard ground below. “Viridian hasn’t contacted me since they were taken. That’s the truth.”

“Then where are the pirates operating from? Where’s their headquarters?”

“I’m not saying any more, Sergeant.” Milliden gave him another smug smile. “If you want to see them again, you’ll have to play by my rules.”

Wheatie drew back a hoof and coldcocked him.

“Wheatie!” exclaimed Zanaya, as Milliden’s unconscious body fell forward into Wheatie’s forelegs. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Let’s get him back to the precinct.” Wheatie hoisted the ambassador’s comatose form onto his back. “Your interrogators can take a crack at him.”

“Well, I…” Zanaya sighed, obviously still displeased about his treatment of a prisoner. “Very well.”

Wheatie grunted, shifting the ambassador’s weight. “No time to waste. Let’s get going.”

“Slow down, Wheatie,” said Zanaya with a faint smile. “We stopped him before he could light this thing. The attack isn’t happening tonight. Or maybe ever, now that we’ve exposed this conspiracy. We’ve got a little time to breathe.”

“But Rye and Tyria might not,” said Wheatie, starting toward the stairway. “For all we know, they’re at the bottom of the ocean right now.”

Zanaya gave him a reassuring shoulder rub. “They’re still alive, Wheatie. I’m sure of it. Tyria’s a bit timid, but she’s a survivor. And Rye sounds like he’s been through worse than a pirate kidnapping.” She headed down the stairs. “Come on. Milliden took a longer route through the jungle to throw us off. We can take the direct path back to the city from here and save an hour.”

Wheatie looked back up at the peak of the volcano, watching the air shimmer in the heat. He inhaled the scent of smoke and soot, remembering the rising flames and burning buildings back in Canterlot so long ago, on the day the sun stood still. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Zyre was still heading for the same fate.

Comments

[Sonorus]

Sweet, an update and things are made clearer. Looking forward to the rest!

[bodgers master]

He may be callous, but he's right.
Unfortunately, who would dare question Celestia?
The truest atrocities are not committed by those who are evil, but those so virtuous, they couldn't possibly be evil.

[Cyrano]

I was thinking about this fic the other day, glad to see it updated!

[paul]

It is delight to see this story updated !
Thank you !

[Cerulean Voice]

“But Rye and Tyria might not,” said Wheatie, starting toward the stairway. “For all we know, they’re at the bottom of the ocean right now.”

Oh if only you knew.

This keeps surprising me with every turn. I thought for sure that Wheatie would be discovered at the dinner, just like I thought for sure that this Milliden running away would turn out to be a body double. I also thought he'd try to blow up the volcano as well, but even that didn't happen.
You sure know when to time your story's high points.

[lebowski42]

Really enjoying the story! burning through it at a fast pace , suddenly it ends.

Oh , damm I'd presumed this was a finished story!

Ah well better just check when the last update was I'm sure its not too bad....

[Cerulean Voice]

Please come back and resume this masterpiece? You were one of only three writers I can truly credit for inspiring me to start up here in the first place. It's partly thanks to you that I've made so many friends.

[TheBBofC]

“But Rye and Tyria might not,” said Wheatie, starting toward the stairway. “For all we know, they’re at the bottom of the ocean right now.”

Well... He's not wrong.