Saving Equus

~~

-THE SPACESHIP, CIRQUE D'SANG-

~~

One day passes, and another new pony, someone who's too scared to go in alone, Sasha thought, leading a rich-looking stallion into the dark theatre by her side.

She thought he looked ridiculous. The stallion’s hat made him look the tallest pony in the theatre, a big black top hat. He also wore an eyepiece. and lower down, he was fit with a tailcoat suit which ended curtly at the back. Sasha had no such pleasantries. She wore a dirty-red dress. She didn't like it; both the thought and feeling made her uncomfortable. She would have much rather worn her vest and trousers like any normal mare, but she didn't have the choice. Capitan Raydono insisted on greeting new guests with the best her ship had to offer, and the capitan's orders remained law when said on her ship.

Even though she felt uncomfortable, Sasha was the one who spoke first. She knew her voice was hoarse like a mule, so she made sure she raised her voice over the tens, perhaps hundreds of mumbling conversations in the theatre well-packed by ponies. “Your seat's over here, Mr. Stannislane,” Sasha told the stallion. “We will just have to pass by the upper two rows, and you’ll find your seat. You first, please, my own seat is on the side we come in from.”

The dark halted her perception of any detailed facial features, aside from the glimmer from his eyepiece, but she heard him speak with the sound of a very... Equestrian voice. “Ah. Thank you, thank you so much for doing this.” Stannislane overtook her, and quickly found the right way to his seat. “I hope I don’t seem cowardly, nor listless for asking you. It’s... really, it’s something I’ve never done before.”

The mare smiled as they walked down the steps together. Newcomers were often scared, so Sasha and the rest had been told by the captain to reassure them. “Don’ worry about it," she said. “I get bookings askin’ me with ponies all the time." She beamed. "It’s perfectly normal.” Weird, but normal. They walked down the aisle, and took their seats at almost the very same time. As they did, she turned to him. “Big ones, and small stallions like yourself; diplomats, sold'ers, and everythin' betweens come here, an’ even those soldier types aren’ too fond of staying here.  You’re braver than a lot of ‘em for even being on this ship, ser.”

Truth wasn't entirely lost on Sasha's words, but she found it plenty queer when the newcomers came aboard. They always acted the same, a herd of rabbits, scarred by the sound of a wolf, that made them hurry to the nearest hole. The thing was, they seemed to be even more frightened of the new environment they had been gifted, rather than of their previous lives which forced them escape to the legendary outlaw ship, the Cirque d'Sang.

Already dim background lighting, the sort of thing that dotted the theatre normally, had shut off completely. Then, suddenly, there were two heavy floodlight beams that shot out from centre stage, revealing shadowed forms that stood there, eerily silent. None stood together, and through the little light she had, Sasha could see why. They were each on a platform different than the other.

The crowd, still immersed in conversation, began to shout in the seats just below Mr. Stannislane, their tongues rolling.  “Mah-dlay, Mah-dlay, Mah-dlay…”

The stallion diplomat did not join in. Instead, he turned to Sasha. “Braver..? Heh, I can see why anypony would want you to sit by their side. The world we live in may nary have a drop of your comforting grace.”

Sasha truly wondered what world he came from. After all, he’d barely disclosed them in the booking made with Captain Raydono, which came with a short bio about his current situation. A diplomat hailing from Manehatten, wanting to get asfar away from Manehatten as possible on the fastest, least suspicion-raising airship he could find.

“Don’t worry,” she said in response. “We don’t discriminate on what you did in the past round here. The bad guy’s’ll come some day, but we’ll defend you good and proper on th' Cirque. You've got comfor'tof all kinds up here, and I think you're lucky. I bet this first performance’ll be just the sort of comfort you’re looking for.”

“I am relieved to hear that!” Mr. Stannislane replied, as the shouts grew into a mass of voices across the theatre, repeating the same thing over and over. “Mah-dlay, Mah-Dlay, Mah-dlay, MAH-dlay,” it continued until those shouting began to stand up from their seats, placing their hooves on the seats in front.

Before long, Stannislane, and a few other choice suspects, began to look quite uncomfortable in their seats. He turned to Sasha. "Though I must admit, this isn't exactly what I had in mind for a theatre performance. You, you're all from griffon-country, yes?”

Half the ponies standing up around the theatre were wearing white or black masks, depicting faces contorted in laughter, despair, anger and fright. You should not judge griffon-country from a group of metalheads, Sasha thought, but merely nodded in response to his question.

“Mah-DLAY... Mah-DLAY... Mah-...”

Stannislane shifted to face her. “Uh, before I forget. What, please tell, was your name agai...,” he squeaked. As soon as the drum kit flared, Stannislane hushed, as did the crowd. The quarter-second beat, accompanied by a low bass rhythm, kept itself quiet, muffled, almost too discreet…

...Before bursting onto the scene with a strike of an electric guitar riff, sending shockwaves through the crowd as the performers played on stage, a bassline striking like fire.

The stage lit up, unveiling the shadowy forms on stage. The musicians all stood on pitch-black scaffolding that was curved, and warped like a ram’s horns, jutting out in unearthly patterns. All the while, the bass backtone became many times more pronounced, and the guitar played chords in a rhythm struck like Tartarus.

The drummer on the right, bass on the left, the guitarist in centre… and the singer on top of it all. She was clad like the gothic-spired churches of old: vibrant steel and coal wrought armour protruded spines down her back, shoulders, and wings. At a glance, the griffon under the armour was surely a demon personified, standing atop her fortress of malice.

There she sung.

The voice was female but hard to distinguish in it’s raw, rough,screaming verses that tore through the audience who joined in turn, the floodlights skewing off into all directions, as the chorus of hooves fell together with the beats of the bass and the drums. Shaking their heads like animals, ravaging to and fro.

The diplomat Stannislane, his eyes wide open and pupils dilated, looked positively terrified.

Sasha had seen it all before. I tried it myself once. But no budget to do something like this, she thought.

The high-octane music on stage began to repeat itself, as the singer took her place with the cleanest and cutest sound amidst the dark rhythms, a strong and stunning voice contrasting the heavy and foreboding doom around her.

They say that opposites attract each other; these two rhythmical vibrations were made for each other. The crowd agreed with a fury of passion, bouncing up and down and throwing their hooves in the air. Before long, the guitar solo started. Fumes and smoke poured onto the stage, and soon all could be seen was the flash of reflected greens and purples from the instruments, and a red light that pierced through it from the centre of the stage.

The first song ended as abruptly as it started, and when the smoke cloud was clear, the next song took place. As streaks of fire leapt across the stage, it showed that it was equally as powerful in imagery to the first song, perhaps even stronger, but it would never have that ‘The Tartarus have I stepped into?’ vibe that the first song held so strongly.

The mare checked back in with Mr.Stannislane. He was in a trance; she waved a hoof in front of him before he noticed her again. When he did, he whispered back to her, jowls quivering. “That... that was certainly a show, Miss Doormare.”

She spoke up over the music. “They call me Sasha,” she said, placing a hoof over his shoulder. “Welcome to the Cirque d’Sang.”

Stannislane stared her like the bird between a hydrocar's headlights. "You’re not thinking of going, are you?” he said. “I think I could use the company! I must admit that, as long as I stay in this theatre, I will never feel safe.”

“Then I’ll stay a little while,” she replied, placing her forelegs back on the arms of her chair. As the ship had already taken off, Sasha didn’t have much else of a job to do. If I stay around, I might even get a tip.  “For you. I have nopony else to serve jus’ yet.”

“I’ll make sure,” he said. The stallion stuffed his hoof into a strap-bag, and took out a couple of coins. It seemed that Stannislane had invested in a magnetic hoof-holder, a fancy bit of tech, for when he picked them out of his bag, the coins came out and into Sasha’s dress pocket without issue. She looked down, and noticed not a single one had fallen beneath the chair. Impressive.

The hoof-holder was a gilded sign of success, but she presumed the stallion was wealthy a great deal earlier. She was at a loss for a shiny something else, though. “I ain’t seen one of those silver bits before… what are they?”

“Antiques,” he said. “I'd stress that you don’t use them to buy anything floozy," he said direly. "They are worth more than you may think.”

A diplomat, and a collector to boot? Not that she cared, though the silver was a welcome surprise. The coins could have come from anywhere, hopefully someplace rare and forgotten. Her thoughts went wild, as a plan of action to sell these potentially priceless coins formed quickly in her mind, though she tried to maintain her composure. “I’ll do the best I can to stay around,” Sasha promised sincerely.

As soon as she said it, Stannislane sunk everso slightly into his chair, and for once, he seemed calm for that small slice of the evening. The two listened to one more hour, of what Stannislane probably considered as uninterrupted-eardrum-destruction, before he asked her for his peace of mind to show him where the exit was.

Ignoring the blaring music in front them, Sasha led Stannislane out of their row of seats. After a quick registration using Sasha’s virtual sign-in app on her hoofbrace, a less fancy, and overall far more used piece of tech, the stallion left for his first night in the Cirque. Sasha couldn’t help but notice some tinge of regret spread on the poor stallion’s face, as she led him away and said goodbye.

~~

By the time she got back, Sasha found that a new band was on stage. It was more of a background music than the main attraction. The crowd that still gathered drank like sponges and chatted in the theatre room. Sasha took the resignation of her guest to his bedroom and the seemingly little to do as a sign that she could relax, and join in.

She didn’t really have anything to do, her main job that day being to greet ponies at the ship's door. By this time, the ship was far off the ground. Her only real concern was that someone higher than her would bug her about spending so much time with one client. If they ask him, though, he will justify it. Everypony who is too much of a coward to start off their stay on the Cirque by themselves, is usually decent enough to be honest.

Sasha breezed through the crowd, trying to find someone like Mallflower or Silver, her friends. Her browsing was interrupted by the sight of her boss, and some other new pegasus sitting on the E row, presumably chatting. Why is she here? Capitan Raydono’s not a mare to take a single step out of the control room..

She took the opportunity to eavesdrop, taking the row behind them discreetly... and wondering what this new mare come to the Cirque for. Some newcomers were robbers, thieves in the night who were caught at the last second and needed a getaway. Others were political enemies ripe for assassination, and half of those didn’t even manage to get on the ship to begin with.

Sasha leant in to the row to sit. They were talking amicably before she got there, but when Sasha sat down, the fur on her ears stood up to something she really didn’t expect.

“... Alicorn? That’s what you’ve been told? You have to find an Alicorn?”

Alicorn?

Capitan Raydono had her eyebrows peaking higher than any conventional mare’s, and Raydono looked at her friend with utter disbelief.

Her friend, a pegasus dressed like a businessmare, nudged the Capitan. Sasha could barely hear what she said, it was whispered so delicately. “You, uh… y’wanna take this someplace else? There’s a private room we can discuss, right?” The businessmare looked warily to her sides.

“Of course...” Raydono muttered faintly. “Well, right this way, Val.”

The two stood up. Sasha looked onwards, furrowing her brow at the turn of events. The last time the capitan had joined to watch a performance in the theatre was years ago. The last time she heard her speak of an Alicorn was in emphasis put to speech, (Alicorns forbid! Or, By Luna's Light!) but never said seriously.

A madpony perhaps... but why would the Capitan be listening to her? I just have to find out. This little mystery was certainly something worth spending some free time for.

Unfortunately, Sasha sat down at theexact moment they left. The two moved out and quickly scurried towards some side exit hidden by the crowd, a hallway marked “PRIVATE”.

Sasha had been on the ship for too long to not know her directions. She knew the side exit was, and where it would lead. The recording room’ll be the only empty room that way, and it's soundproofed from the corridor, too. Still, the corridor to the recording room is private access only… but there’s always another way.

The corridor was private, but the kitchen area had a door through to the private corridor that could only be unlocked by staff. All Sasha needed was a reason for the kitchen staff, so that they would allow her to get in there. Sasha had to find a disguise to fool somepony, and...

...Is this really worth my time? She had to ask herself the question eventually, but the response was quick in her mind.

Talia's talons, of course it is. I'll have to remember the look on Mallflower's face when she hears this story.

Ponies on the ship did all sorts of odd jobs, whoever they were. Sasha's plan was to act the part of a maid. It would include her finding a serving tray, and some kind of drink and food.

The drink was easy enough. Sasha took a trip to the theatre, looking for the stall. The ship was supplied with cider by some farm out of Equestria, Cleyfeli Farm, and the Canterlot-bred mare who owned it had a daughter on ship who sold the stuff. She found the cider salesmare was still in her mask, and talking to some other masked mare in some deep enthralling argument.

Sasha arrived to hear the other masked mare speak first. “I never liked the dark shit. Puts me off, like, really. You’ve gotta stop it.”

My joy, Sasha thought. I have to listen to these goons natter again.

The Cleyfeli Canterlot mare, Dagra, scoffed in her friend's face. “So what, you’re telling me you’re the ‘great moral compass’ this airship needs? Give me a break. In fact, give me five examples of your shining grace, your majesty.” Dagra persisted with her side of the argument like some kind of fanaticised zealot. “Umero numero, horning’stotally in right now. Deux— and I’ve got to explain myself here—  summoned tentacles are the way to go, bae! Did you even hear what the latest magic can do…?”

‘Unicorns are best at…’ meta was exhausting to hear for much longer, and before she snapped to insanity, Sasha finally found a break in the useless conversation in which to speak. “By Celestia’s rotten corpse, don’t you two mongrols have somethin’ to do?”

The two looked back at her. Dagra spoke up. “Well nice to meet an' fuck you too, bitch.” She smiled like she was pleased with herself at the end of it, leaning beside the barrels filled with Cleyfeli cider.

But despite the insult, Sasha couldn’t help but grin, either. She knew these ponies and their fouls mouths as much as they knew hers. "Ugh," Sasha muttered. “You got somethin’ to do right now, or are y’just slackin’?”

“Oh, ugh yourself,” Dagra replied. “And no, not really. No mare’s buying anything right now, bae.”

Sasha took out her purse. “No mare ‘sep me. One cider, friend.”

Dagra smiled, reaching around the back of her stall for the tap. “With pleasure. Hey, and maybe you and us can find a room together, see what a Unicorn can’t do.”

Sasha coughed at that. “I ain’ into that, friend, or your weird-ass fanclub. Here’s five coppers.”

Dagra grabbed at the coppers quickly, and slid the paper cup full of apple-scented booze right back at her. “What can I say? You're missing out. Have a good one, Sash, and maybe we'll have a good one with you later.”

Sasha took her cider cup, and followed the way back to her own room to leave Dagra, and her now-very-confused friend asking the most innocent questions.

“B-but, how can you even have a conversation like that? Why are you so mean to each other?...”

Once Sasha reach her room, she stooped down and swiped an outlying serving dish she forgot to give back to the kitchen. Washing off any crumbs and hairs that the dish had off into the sink, she placed the metalware on her table. With a couple of minutes to prepare, she added onto it a hastily crafted sandwich, and replaced her paper cup of cider with a nice, ornate glass she stole from a bar in Canterlot. She felt ready without the apron, and promptly left her room. She had seen many maids on the ship in her days, and many less wore their aprons at all times during service.

Placing the metallic serving dish in between her teeth (thank the magi it was small), she balanced it and herself past the crowds. As expected, nopony really cared. While about half of them knew her by name, they didn’t know what her current job was meant to be.

She reached the airship kitchen soon enough. There was only one, and it was not a place fit for the ponies it served. The walls were white, but turning all manner of browns and beiges as it got closer to the cooking equipment, and the floor was made of wood boards like most of the ship.

The kitchen was easily the second-most disorganised room, with dirty pans and plates stacked up, and cupboards overflowing with woks, basins, weighing equipment, the list could go on. Sacks of raw ingredients littered the sides of the room which weren’t already loaded with counters and stoves. By chance Sasha's friend, Mallflower, called out to her from the washing sink. One of the older crew, she was allowed to prepare the food, and showed it with her flour-powdered face and mane-net. “Hey, hey, Sasha, what’re you doing here?”

Sasha put her dish down on the nearest counter. Malf was hard of hearing, and mumbling wouldn’t get any message across. “Just a maid passin’ through. I’m taking this to the recording room, if you’re interested.”

She looked at her curiously. “You gotta pass?”

Not a chance. “Uh, no, the guy I'm serving never gave me one. Short notice.”

Mallflower eyed her. “Huh. Well… I trust you normally, Sash. Hope I ain’ gonna regret it.” He walked over to the middle table, snatched a piece of paper, and started scribbling something on it.. “On the by... have you heard the news, Sasha?”

Sasha would have sighed if Mallflower was not her friend. Mallflower had a tendency to speak for prolonged times about far away politics, and Sasha didn't have the time to spare. “Not sure. Heh, it's so hectic, I don’t think anyone knows.” Sasha picked the dish back up, and got as far as the door on the other end of the kitchen. As much as she’d loved to make more conversation, there was a dish in her mouth.

Malf shook her head as she looked up. “Anyone knows? Well, you know me, Sash, and I know what's happening. Come talk to me later, perhaps... Go on, you, let her through.” A stallion opened the door, and she walked on. A couple of ponies nearby muttered something as she left, and Sasha heard a conversation spark when she left.

~~

Sasha found herself in the restricted-access corridor. It was lit up by bulbs on the ceiling, small crystal-like things that emitted a bluish glow.

The recording room was split by two entrances; one going where the singer would stand, and the other being the equipment room, with all the fancy gadgets to make her sound good. The two sections were separated by a magicproof glass wall. Sasha saw the equipment room door left open, so she slowly took to opening the other one.

This part of the room was empty, with cold hard floors made out of some synthetic material. Not wanting to make a sound, she pushed the door with the metalware in her mouth, drawing it to a close, and crawled under the range of glass that would let them see her, placing the dish in her hooves, and then gradually to the floor.

The two seemed to have gotten halfway through their conversation. Sasha turned over to a more comfortable laying position, and tried to make out what they were saying.

“...hellova tidy sum they’ll be fetching for us. Tartarus, I don’t even know why, but that’s what they said.” It was the other mare’s voice. Sasha couldn’t tell from the accent where she came from, but she sounded quite relaxed compared to being in the theatre.

Capitan Raydono spoke afterwards, stressed in comparison to the other mare. “Six hundredthousand bits for an alicorn? And why d’you even want to get in t' this? Mahdray’s been makin’ you a fortune on my ship, you ain’t got no point for getting into this mess.”

Sasha breathed quietly. Perhaps this is what Raydono does, while no one ever sees her? She thought. Secret deals done with unknown ponies. Her knowledge of capitan Raydono was scant but her owning the ship, making the laws, and telling ponies what to do in the safety of her control room. Rumour had it that she piloted the ship herself as a pilot of foreign wars in years past, but now Sasha was not so sure that held any such merit.

Vala continued in the other room. “It’s not that simple, Ray… I’m not doing it for the money. I’m not telling you why I’m doing it either, that’s personal. All you need to know is, I can’t stay around here if I don’t comply. Like I said, I’m not hurting anyone, not this ship, not this alicorn, nobody. I was told she has to be found alive, not dead.”

“You’re putting me in a tight spot here, Vala. I'm giving you safe passage in my ship. The least you can do is give me some time on this...”

Vala paused before speaking coolly. “I can’t give you any more of a head start. It’s seriously not as bad as you think, though. If it was tight, I’d tell you, you know me. Truth is… nopony knows about her but the CEO, her hired goons, and the both of us. She came by an airship not long ago, but they’re keeping her locked up in one of those towers, I bet. And that’s it. Well, it should be. I’m not your boss, but can you please not blurt it out in public again? This is top secret stuff, y’know.”

“Heh. You shouldn’t be worried about that. Most of those ponies have stayed on my ship for years now, and if y’saw, they ain’t much of a conspiratorial group, like.”

“What’s your answer then? Will you do it?” She's pushing an answer out of the capitan, Sasha thought.

She heard Raydono let out a long, audible sigh. “I trusted you for the best part of a year. I don’t see any reason why I can’t anymore. I s’pose, after we’ve dropped Stannis an’ his type off my ship, next stop is Equestria Central. We’ll find your alicorn, Val, even if you won’t give me her name.”

Vala sounded apologetic. “Oh, I didn’t? That’s my bad… the alicorn’s name is, Fluttershy.”

Raydono sounded dead serious, as he delivered his final line. “An’ If you make any problems on the ship, mind, firing a single shot, or harassing my crew… one way or another, you ain’t staying on my ship.”