Captain Spyglass was a pirate.

Yes, he had a strict code of honor. Yes, technically he was empowered by the government of Equestria to seize merchant vessels belonging to hostile nations and take possession of the vessels themselves and all cargo aboard. Yes, somewhere in his cabin was a paper license making all of the above quite legal and ensuring that even were Her Majesty’s Royal Navy to overtake his ship and not recognize it, he and his crew would be fine. Yes, this technically made him a privateer.

The fact of the matter, however, was that nopony aboard the battleship Iris would ever have signed up and stayed aboard if he had called his crew “the Farsight Privateers”. So pirates they were. And not just any pirates.

Spyglass and his crew were sky pirates.

Spyglass flexed his wings, feeling a rush of wind pass between the feathers. He was a large, tawny-coated pegasus and years of rough living had weathered his mane to a salt-and-pepper grey, not that he would ever openly acknowledge this. His cutie mark- a compass rose emblazoned with a single, wide-open eye in its center- was partially hidden by a heavy, blue naval jacket which had slits cut for his wings. He nipped at the jacket’s collar with his mouth, adjusting it. Pegasus magic offered a degree of protection from stormy, chilly weather, but sometimes the Weird Winds that made their way above and below the clouds on the outskirts of Equestria required a little extra protection to deal with. Also, it made him look three times more impressive.

Spyglass extended the tool that was his namesake. Years ago, he’d lost an eye in a scuffle. The surgeon who had operated thought it would be absolutely /hilarious/ to replace the missing eye with a brass spyglass, which somehow -inexplicably- still functioned in the absence of an eye to look through it. Spyglass, while grateful for the preservation of his vision, had found it equally hilarious to hurl that particular surgeon overboard. Yes, she had been a pegasus and was in no real danger from being thrown off an airship, but it was the thought that counted.

The target of the day’s raid was a transport ship, the /Ugly Duckling/. Bound between the Shetland Isles on the border of Equestrian territory and the rogue nation of Griffonstone, one of his lookouts had reported that it had become separated from its defensive convoy during a particularly bad weird storm. The /Duckling/ herself had no cannons, and more than likely very few trained bodyguards aboard. It was an ideal prize- no muss, no fuss, get aboard and grab as much loot as possible, and maybe a few valuable hostages as well if the opportunity arose. Even the Farsight Pirates couldn’t manage to bungle things up with a job this simple.

Spyglass reflected that every time he had thought the previous sentence in the past, somepony had managed to bungle things.

“C-captain?”

Spyglass sighed, not even bothering to turn around. “Yes, Telescope?” He could hear the young pegasus’s knees knocking together behind him.

Telescope’s voice was a high, tremulous tenor. “Um, may I be excused from the boarding party, sir?”

“On what grounds, Mr. Telescope?” Spyglass continued watching his target,

“Well, the hold might be full of murderous griffons! And I have a family to think about back home!” Telescope’s knees knocked together as he backed away slightly. “Um. Please?”

“Mr. Telescope, we are both perfectly aware that you are an only child and an orphan. You told me so yourself when you boarded this ship,” Spyglass sighed. “In addition, this is the third consecutive boarding attempt you have chosen to pass on. Before that you were afraid of griffon pox. Before that you were afraid of accidentally being attacked by a killer griffon booby-trap. Tell me, Mr. Telescope, is your next planned excuse some other variant on griffons, or will it be manticores next?”

Spyglass turned, his glowering expression somewhat enhanced by his missing eye. “Well?”

Telescope shrank back, and Spyglass rather uncharitably thought that in a few moments his white coat might gain a few splotches of yellow. “Erm, well, that is… maybe?”

“Dismissed, Mr. Telescope,” Spyglass sighed. “Tell Miss Velvet that she is to report for the boarding party, by the way. I haven’t seen her.”

“Er, t-that’s because she’s already aboard, Captain,” Telescope admitted, shrinking even further.

“What?”

“S-she said something about ‘target locked’ and launched herself o-over. Of course she started falling so Lens Crafter and Patch grabbed her and p-pulled her up onto the d-deck…”

“And why didn’t I see this?” Spyglass barked. “I’ve been staring at that ship for the past few minutes-”

“W-well the last bit happened just now. While you were looking at me. Um, sir.”

Grinding his teeth against each other hard enough to produce meal from seed corn, Spyglass glared at his lookout. “Mr. Telescope, you are /dismissed/.”

The cowardly pegasus fled below decks so quickly that air seemed to rush in to fill the space he had left behind.

Spyglass leaped into the air, extending his wings to their full span and flapping them. Honestly, this was to be expected.

The “legendary” Farsight Pirates hadn’t captured a prize since the end of last year, after all. Not since they’d found that idiotic automaton.

Cerise “Bloodshot” Velvet was a pirate.

By some definition, at least, she was a pirate. She sailed with a pirate crew and carried weapons and took orders from her superior officer. This made her a pirate.

Generally, however, pirates were not made of clockwork.

Only a few minutes around the tawny-coated unicorn were enough to see the deception. Her coat was clearly made of fine bristles of some sort of wire rather than the naturally soft hair of other ponies. Her joints seemed unnaturally stiff when performing certain motions. When she moved her head in certain directions, a close enough listener could actually hear the hundreds of pistons, gears, and pulleys moving in synch. Her magical aura had a faint whiff of brimstone around it, not unlike the arcane engines aboard certain airships.

Of course, a sufficiently unobservant pony might miss these finer details, or the fact that her black starburst cutie mark seemed to have been carefully painted on. Even for the densest of ponies, however, it was plainly obvious that Velvet was a clockwork as soon as she opened her mouth.

“UNIT-SPYGLASS, THIS UNIT ACKNOWLEDGES THAT SHE HAS ACTED IN ADVANCE OF ORDERS. HOWEVER, THIS UNIT DETECTED AN UNKNOWN MAGICAL SIGNATURE OF GREAT INTEREST AND DEEMED IT BEST TO PURSUE.”

Spyglass’ ears rang. Even high above the ground, with winds whipping about and quiet voices swept away, Velvet’s tinny, artificial voice boomed out with enough force to bowl over a pony who stood too close to her. He feared that his entire crew would lose their hearing before he had a chance to figure out precisely how to fix the strange construct he’d been saddled with. “Miss Velvet,” he groaned, pacing along the boards of the /Ugly Duckling/, “please shut up and leave the decision-making to me.”

“AFFIRMATIVE, UNIT-SPYGLASS. INCIDENTALLY, THIS UNIT DETECTED THE MAGICAL SIGNATURE IN THE SHIP’S HOLD.”

Spyglass bit back the pain he felt all through his eardrums, instead taking stock of the ship he had boarded. Even without cannons or other ship-to-ship ordnance, he had expected at least a token resistance from the crew of the /Duckling/. Perhaps a few griffons armed with pistols or cutlasses, planning on protecting their investment, or a few tougher sailors prepared to defend their ship from being seized. Instead, the moment he had hit the deck he was met with nothing. He had assumed that the crew would have retreated below decks in preparation to send out their captain and surrender, but even that seemed unlikely. The ship was far too quiet.

It was as if every pony on board had vanished.

Spyglass felt a chill creep up his spine. He had heard stories of ships caught in the Weird Winds emerging on the other side without their crew. Nopony knew what happened to sailors who vanished like this. Or if they did, it wasn’t something they were keen on talking about.

He walked along the deck, continuing to take stock. The more he walked, the more worried he felt. The ropes and tethers holding the ship’s gas bag in place were badly frayed and seemed as if they hadn’t been maintained in quite some time. Discolored stains abounded on the deck’s timbers. He could see rotting and warping. The /Ugly Duckling/ had been crippled and damaged long before his crew had come aboard then, and the majority of the crew had abandoned it.

There was nothing for it. If he wanted to know where the crew had gone, there was only one place to proceed.

“Miss Velvet- and please do not verbally confirm that you acknowledge this request,” Spyglass began, speaking carefully, “please accompany me to rendezvous with who or whatever created this magical signature you have apparently detected. Be prepared in case of resistance.”

“ACKNOWLEDGED,” Velvet buzzed. Noticing as Spyglass, winced away from her, her face made a mechanical twitch, possibly an attempt at a grimace. “THIS UNIT APOLOGIZES, UNIT-SPYGLASS. DUE TO ERRORS IN THIS UNIT’S RIGHT-FRONTAL LOGIC CIRCUIT, THIS UNIT’S RESPONSE TO CERTAIN COMMANDS AND MEMORIZATION MAY HAVE A TIME DELAY OF UP TO SIX SEC-SEC-SEC-SEC-SEC-”

Spyglass groaned and, almost mechanically, slammed his forehoof against Velvet’s head. She ceased twitching. “-SECONDS. THIS UNIT IS GRATEFUL FOR YOUR ASSISTANCE, UNIT-SPYGLASS.”

“Miss Velvet, you may show your gratitude by giving me a chance to hear myself think.”

“ACKNOWLEDGED.”

Spyglass had developed a phenomenal amount of self-control in his years flying aboard the /Iris/.It took every ounce he had gathered not to hit Velvet again. He instead contented himself by uttering a deep, contemptuous grunting noise and made his way towards the entrance to the ship’s hold.

The ship’s hold smelled like stale food. Even before he set hoof into it, Spyglass recoiled slightly. In a way he supposed that it was lucky Velvet was accompanying him on this particular excursion. She wouldn’t particularly mind the oppressive, choked atmosphere. It was as if every ration barrel in the hold had been left open to the maggots, and those which hadn’t contained nothing but six-month-old hardtack more suitable for use as ammunition than for equine consumption.

The lanterns along the walls had long since gone dark, and somepony had thrown boards over every conceivable porthole. Spyglass clicked his teeth in disapproval. “Miss Velvet, some illumination if you please?”

“ACKNOWLEDGED.”

A dull glow enveloped Velvet’s horn, and the distinct brimstone-and-static smell of an arcane engine mingled with the aroma of spoiled and aged food. It was a testament to Spyglass’ constitution that he forged ahead, allowing Velvet to walk a few paces in front of him in order to light the path. As they walked, he muttered. “No sign of slaves aboard, too damn quiet for that… no crew either. And the provisions are fouled. They must have been gone for quite some time. Who sails around on an empty ship? It doesn’t-”

“QUERY: UNIT-SPYGLASS, WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO? THIS UNIT IS THE ONLY OTHER INDIVIDUAL PRESENT, AND THIS-UNIT DOES NOT KNOW ANY MORE THAN YOU DO.”

Spyglass hoped that his grave would include the words: “here lies Captain Spyglass: A saint whose patience exceeded every virtue known to equinity.” After only a minute’s worth of time exploring the Duckling with Velvet, he felt he had more than earned it.

“Ah, my dear mechanical maiden, don’t be so gauche! Obviously there’s at least one other individual down here.”

Spyglass and Velvet whirled to face the source of the noise. Spyglass was not prepared for what he saw.

Somehow, unnoticed by either of them until that moment, a unicorn stallion had been lazing along the top of several closed barrels and munching a somehow-unspoiled apple. He was slender, well-proportioned, and apparently unconcerned by his surroundings. His bright pink coat almost seemed to glow like some kind of magical lamp in the darkness of the hold. Strangely enough, however, despite the fact that he was at least in his twenties, he entirely lacked a cutie mark.

Spyglass, unable to process the improbable existence of this particular passenger, turned instead to Velvet. “Is he the magic signature you detected?”

Velvet said nothing, instead jittering in place several times.

The lounging stallion appeared to take notice of her for the first time as well. “Ooh, I say! Is she a clockwork?” He licked his lips. “I can think of so many possibilities. What is your name, my dear?”

“THIS UNIT’S DESIGNATION IS UNIT-VELVET. QUERY: WHAT IS THE DESIGNATION OF UNIT QUESTIONING THIS UNIT?”

“My, so many units.” The stallion winked. “My name, my darling, is Eye Lash. I am the greatest of stallions ever to be born, the future ruler of Equestria, and I am making you my queen as of this moment.”

Spyglass coughed. “Lad, I’m not sure exactly how crazy you were driven by the spoiled-food fumes down here, but she’s a clockwork mare. There is no way in hell that-”

He was cut off mid-sentence by the sound of Velvet starting to violently shake next to him, her gears audibly grinding as she processed Eye’s question.

“THIS UNIT FERVENTLY ACCEPTS YOUR PROPOSAL, UNIT-EYE.”

Spyglass tried very hard not to physically choke on his words.

Eye smiled. “Oh, come now, surely it can’t be that surprising that even objects fall for me! Why, this ship itself holds nothing but love for me. Otherwise it would never have made it this far, what with all the crew dying from…” he trailed off, scratching his chin with a hoof. “What was it I was about to say they’d died from?”

Spyglass began to gather his bearings again. “Actually, information you could provide might be helpful-”

“Ah, yes! They died because I brutally murdered them, one at a time, in a horrifically ironic manner tailored to each one’s vice! I think drowning the alcoholic in port was a particularly nasty touch.” Eye laughed.

Spyglass reacted instantly. His wings shot to their full span and he steeled his muscles. At this range, launching himself into flight with his magic would likely break a few of this mad-pony’s bones, but he didn’t care. For some reason, as ludicrous as the claim sounded, he believed it. Down to the core of his being, he believed this stallion capable of murder.

It was only years of honed reaction time that save his life. He leaped back, using his wings for an extra burst of propulsion, just in time to avoid being in the line of fire of one of a concealed barrel which emerged from a hidden panel in Velvet’s side he had been hitherto unaware of. “THIS UNIT APOLOGIZES, UNIT-SPYGLASS.” As tinny and obnoxiously loud as her vocalizations were, Spyglass sensed that Velvet had steeled herself- no pun intended

Eye Lash sighed. “Oh dear, I seem to have misjudged my audience. You’ll have to forgive me, flying around on an empty ship has given me a morbid sense of humor.” He smiled disarmingly. “The other passengers of this ship died of a plague, every one to a mare. Including my old master, though I will confess to pushing him over the side when he begged for death. You were quite willing to believe that one pony was capable of killing an entire, able-bodied crew, though, Captain!”

Spyglass grunted, relaxing somewhat. “And you seem a bit touched in the head,” he muttered. Raising his voice, he continued. “Mr. Lash, your rather tasteless joke is forgiven. As we’re within winging distance of port, I would be happy to send a crew member down with you to escort you to safety, or bear you as a passenger aboard my own ship to-”

“I’d be delighted to join your crew, thank you for your kind offer, Captain Spyglass!” Eye Lash leaped down from the barrels, posing dramatically. “I promise you that I’ll accomplish great things. Why, we’ll even conquer Equestria together!”

Spyglass coughed. “Mr. Lash, I never actually offered to make you a part of my crew-”

“UNIT-SPYGLASS, THIS UNIT WHOLEHEARTEDLY RECOMMENDS THE ADDITION OF UNIT-EYE TO THE CREW OF THE /IRIS/.”

Velvet had not moved from her defensive position. Spyglass suddenly remembered exactly how well-armed the unicorn-construct was. He relented. “Erm. Very well then. Mr. Lash, you may serve as our new cabin boy until-”

“Come, my love, let us away! We must introduce ourselves to my new comrades of the air!”

As Eye and Velvet bounded away, leaving a wave of dust in their wake, Spyglass coughed and seethed. That was no survivor he had rescued. That was a madpony who, lying or not, was clearly a danger to everything and everypony surrounding him.

And he had just provisionally agreed to take him aboard his warship.

“Celestia’s Horn!” he swore, before running after the two, praying his situation would not worsen.

“I don’t like the way he’s been looking at those cannons.”

Captain Spyglass grunted as he attempted to adjust the awkward eye-replacement that had earned him his name. The crew had brought Eye Lash on board only a few days ago, and already a deep-seated sense of regret had begun to consume his every waking moment. If it weren’t for what he was beginning to consider a deeply-misguided sense of equine decency, he might have “accidentally” knocked the unicorn over the edge of his vessel while in flight or “forgotten” him at the nearest port town. Every time such thoughts - entirely rational ones - crossed his mind, something stopped him.

That “something” being Velvet.

Ever since he had acquired the android, he’d been dubious about her ability to actually fulfill her duties. Unicorns were too much of a rarity in Sky Pirating to reasonably expect to recruit one, so he’d given Telescope permission to work on the half-broken mess of a unicorn-replicant the group had found in a ship’s ruins. Unfortunately, the best Telescope could seem to do was keep her from entirely overheating. Her constant glitching, stuttering, and tottering from side to side was in near danger of giving away her secret every time she was presented to the enemy. If it weren’t for the fact that her targeting systems were functional, making her the only markspony on the ship who could hit the broad side of a barn, he’d have left her for the scrap heap. As it was, “Bloodshot Velvet” currently lead the ship in kills. All of two ponies. One of whom they hadn’t even been trying to rob.

On second thought, Spyglass reflected, she probably wasn’t all that valuable in the grand scheme of things.

And now, for some reason, she was infatuated with this Eye Lash, and constantly at his side. She seemed able to sense Spyglass’ misgivings - every time he approached either unicorn, she would stare at him with the soul-crushing intensity that only a malfunctioning robot could muster. When that failed to trigger a guilt response, she would cough pointedly and begin cleaning her weapons. Including the miniature flamethrower that Telescope had discovered in her built-in armaments last week.

Spyglass felt outnumbered.

If only there was a way to-

“Captain, are you internally monologuing things again? I’ve warned you about that, it makes you look kind of spacey.”

Spyglass sighed and turned his attention to the pegasus in front of him. “Ah, Mr. Patch. I’m afraid you have it in one.”

Patch, a young pegasus with a noticeable scar running along his left cheek starting at his jawline-

-wait, that was new. Spyglass frowned. “Mr. Patch, where did you acquire that rather impressive gaping wound?”

“New guy.” Patch jerked his head in the general direction of Eye Lash, who was still cavorting about the deck with Velvet in tow, seductively licking the outside of each of the ship’s weapons as if testing for flavor. “Apparently he sleep-mutilates, if you can believe it. He was flailing around last night and stumbled over to my hammock with a stake, screaming ‘stand down, vampire chieftain, the first blood shall be mine!’.”

Spyglass attempted to process this information. His brain gave up on the task halfway through and rebooted, before choosing to approach only the bits which caused him the least mental anguish. “He… thought you were a vampire, so he attacked you?”

Patch nodded. “Aye.”

“And you aren’t bothered by this?”

“Not really.” Patch shrugged his wings and probed the edge of the scar with his tongue. “I got Oracle to stitch me up afterwards, and I heal fairly quickly. Besides, it wasn’t as if our new recruit was entirely wrong. I am a vampire.” He paused for a moment, his eyes darting back and forth as he worked out a few calculations. “Well, about an eighth of one. On my mother’s father’s uncle’s side. By marriage.”

The part of Spyglass which held the world to be a rational place governed by order and harmony gave up, opting to take a vacation to somewhere that made more sense. What was left of his sensibilities rallied, allowing him to respond to Patch’s confession with a low, “Ah.”

The two sat on the deck in silence for a moment before Patch pointed to Eye Lash and Velvet. “Captain, are the two of them supposed to be attempting to stick their heads into the main gun like that? It sounds like Mr. Lash is attempting to… er… orally stimulate it.”

Spyglass drew himself up to his full height and with the full dignity of his office declared “At this point, I do not care. I will be retiring to my cabin. Wake me up when the world returns to some semblance of sanity.”

“So then never, sir?”

Spyglass groaned. “Fair point. Wake me up if we see a-”

“SHIP SIGHTED OFF THE STARBOARD BOW! IT’S FLYING GRIFFONHOLM COLORS, SIR!”

“-that,” Spyglass finished, suddenly returning to attention. “Mr. Patch, please inform the rest of the crew that I want everyone mustered on deck as quickly as they please. We are going to engage.”

“What about Mr. Lash and Ms. Velvet, Captain?”

Spyglass pondered the question for a moment, then made his decision. “Give them both guns. We’re sending them over first.”

Eye Lash looked with glee at the weapon levitating in front of him. “Can it be? Am I truly to be united with this unholy beauty?”

Spyglass winced, then nodded. “Yes, Mr. Lash. Until further notice, this is to be your weapon. It’s a modified, nail-firing pistol designed to wreak maximum havoc and carnage. As a prospective overlord, I felt it only right to have you wield it.”

A bead of sweat trickled down the side of Spyglass’ forehead. The only chance he had of getting rid of the monster he had allowed onto his crew was now. What he was about to do went against every code of nautical, aerial, and generally moral decency he knew, but given the target he assumed that whatever gods judged him in the afterlife would understand. If Velvet sensed his hostility at any point, however, he had no doubt that the last thing he would see before setting sail for hell would be her emotionless, robotic face.

Fortunately, so far she seemed as entranced by the pistol he had handed her as Eye was with his. “THIS UNIT APPROVES OF THE ARMAMENT UNIT-SPYGLASS HAS SELECTED,” she announced.

Spyglass flinched. “Ms. Velvet, is there really no way you could adjust your volume? I realize we’re at a rather high altitude, but there is no need to resort to decibel levels known to cause permanent hearing damage.”

“THIS UNIT’S VOLUME LEVELS ARE REGRETTABLY UNABLE TO BE REDUCED FROM ‘MAXIMUM’ DUE TO A MALFUN-FUN-FUNCTIOOON. MAINTENANCE IS ADVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVI-”

A horseshoe clanged against Velvet’s head, and it snapped back before returning to its original position. “IS ADVISED, UNIT-SPYGLASS.”

“Thank you, Mr. Patch,” Spyglass said, tipping his wing to the other pegasus in a gesture of gratitude.

“Don’t mention it, Captain,” Patch replied, returning the wing-salute. “It happens.”

Spyglass returned his attention to the android in front of him. “Ms. Velvet, just to confirm a few things- your current malfunction, has it affected any of your internal weaponry? Say, oh… the flamethrower and spraygun which might be used to clear the deck of large numbers of enemy privateers at once, preventing them from bringing you and a small group from our crew down by sheer weight of numbers?”

There was a clicking and hissing sound as Velvet’s clockwork mind ran self-diagnostics. At last, she spoke. “REGRETTABLY THIS IS CORRECT, UNIT-SPYGLASS.”

“Oh, what a shame, well, absolutely nothing to be done about that, come along you two, I’m sure you’ll be fine with those lovely pistols I’ve acquired for you, make sure to aim the hollow end at the enemy, and-” Spyglass halted his nervous barrage of instructions as he looked at Eye. “Mr. Lash, why are you attempting to suck on the barrel of your weapon?”

The unicorn removed the pistol from his mouth with a small popping noise. “Annalise told me she enjoys it.”

“Annalise?”

“Yes, the gun. Her name is Annalise.” A dreamy expression crossed Eye’s face as he cradled the pistol tenderly in his magic. “Or perhaps it’s Carlotta. Or Lorenzo! Or-”

Spyglass’ sense of self-preservation managed to kick in before any further names could be recited. “Excellent! Mr. Lash, I am very glad to see that you and Ms. Velvet are growing familiar with your new equipment. I have a special task for the two of you.” He pointed one of his forehooves out into the distance, indicating the rapidly-approaching Griffonholm ship. “Our lookout has identified that vessel as a Griffon slaver. As most slavers are, it is likely filled with burly, heavily armed griffons who engage in ritual cannibalism. Since you and Ms. Velvet are our two best marksmen, we would like you to board the vessel first and clear its decks. Don’t worry, we will be right behind you.”

Velvet’s clockwork brain began to whir again, and Spyglass’ heart froze in his chest. A small chant began in the back of his mind. Buy it you bucket of scrap metal and gears, buy it or I’ll-

“THIS UNIT APPROVES OF THIS PLAN. IT ALLOWS FOR UNIT-EYE’S NATURAL TALENTS OF BLOODSHED AND CHAOS TO BE PUT TO THEIR BEST USE.”

“Don’t forget depravity, my dear. I’m very good at that as well,” Eye added as he polished his new pistol’s barrel.

Spyglass felt his heart begin to soar. He could barely resist the urge to shout his glee to the heavens. He contented himself with imagining kicking Eye over the edge of his vessel and sending him screaming hundreds of feet towards the ground, which was rapidly becoming his third most-soothing fantasy.

“Well, good luck you two. As soon as the ship is within boarding range, I’ll instruct…” Spyglass mentally ran through the roster of his crew, before selecting the two most disposable names he could, “Mr. Binoculars and Mr. Lens Crafter to carry you over before returning to this vessel to pick up more earthbound crew members.”

“Aye, aye, sir!” Eye cheered before pointing the business end of his pistol at Spyglass’ nose. “Incidentally, Captain, could you confirm that I’ve loaded this correctly? I’ve never-”

“I CAN CONFIRM THAT IT IS VERY MUCH LOADED MR. LASH PLEASE PUT IT DOWN NOW!” Spyglass roared, trying to duck his head out of the weapon’s line of fire.

“Oh! Woopsie. I’ll have to be careful with that. Shoot the problems, not my minions.” Eye lowered the weapon, to Spyglass’ intense relief, and turned to Velvet. “Well, my dear? Shall we away?”

“AGREED, UNIT-EYE. WE SHALL PREPARE TO BOARD.”

As the two stalked away, Patch slipped up to his captain’s side. “Captain, are you insane? That’s the Tomcat we’ve spotted. The last we’d heard of them their entire crew were killers to a bird. And those pistols you handed them… they aren’t bad, but they’re-”

“Incapable of sustaining a rate of fire that could possibly keep a dozen or so griffons at bay with only two armed ponies? Oh, I know. And my soul may be locked in the darkest recesses of Tartarus for it. But strangely, Mr. Patch? At the moment, I do not care.” Spyglass laughed mirthlessly. “That Eye Lash fellow is the vilest, most despicable individual I’ve ever met. I’m fairly certain he’d slit his mother’s throat for half a bit, and probably copulate with the headless body afterwards just for fun. If it weren’t for Velvet, I’d have given in and sent him over the edge long ago. As for her… well, it’s a pity to lose a crew member, but it’s for the greater good.”

“The greater good?” Patch echoed in disbelief.

“Precisely, Mr. Patch. There’s no need to repeat-”

The sounds of gunfire filled the air.

“Aha. It sounds as if the two of them are already in the process of engaging.”

Patch groaned, burying his face in one of his hooves. “Captain, I understand your concerns over that new guy. Believe me, I do. He just left a gash the size of a melon slice in my face-”

Spyglass peered at the injury. “A melon slice? Are you sure? It looks more like an orange slice sized wound, or perhaps grapefruit-”

“A gash the size of a compact melon slice,” Patch continued, “and it hurt like hell to regenerate and I’m pretty sure that the ‘anaesthetic’ that Oracle used when he stitched me up is an addictive narcotic. These are all good reasons to get rid of an ordinary terrible crew member. But there is no way on Equus that any of us should consent to get rid of this terrible crew member.”

Spyglass felt his train of thought shudder to a halt before exploding into hundreds of pieces, a fictional-railway tragedy which would be unequaled for at least two hundred years. “I... what?”

As Patch opened his mouth to explain, the lookout’s voice drowned him out. “CAPTAIN? THEY’VE STOPPED SHOOTING! SHOULD WE GO OVER NOW?”

“Aaah. Well, poor Mr. Lash, Celestia carry his soul to the realms of light, and all that,” Spyglass said with maybe a smidge less dignity than the benediction usually carried. “I am sorry he perished before we had a chance to discuss your rationale for sparing him, but what’s done is done. I’ll be sure to provide a proper burial for what’s left of the corpse. And who knows? Maybe parts of Velvet will still be salvageable.” He strode for the edge of the deck with a spring in his step. “All hands, proceed with the usual boarding!”

A hoarse laugh met his command, and an icy claw gripped Spyglass’ heart as he turned and made eye contact with Patch. “...Mr. Patch?”

Patch raised his eyes. Something within the yellow irises was cold, deathless, and impossibly deep. Spyglass felt every feather along his wings prickle. Whatever was back there was older than equinity, perhaps even older than the sun.

A voice that was at once Patch’s and not spoke the words that unraveled Spyglass’ comforting fantasy. “Are you so sure of your plans, Captain?”

Then the moment passed, and Patch was nothing but an ordinary pegasus with a disfiguring facial wound again. “Captain?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m absolutely sure, Mr. Patch,” Spyglass replied as his heart began to beat normally once again.

This time, imagining kicking Eye Lash over the edge was less comforting than it was hollow- a child-like fantasy that was too far out of reach to ever come true.

Spyglass wasn’t sure what he had expected, in retrospect, when he landed on the deck of the Tomcat. It certainly wasn’t what he saw.

The Tomcat was widely known in the skies surrounding Hoofington as the most feared slaving vessel ever to take to the air. Their captain, Greta Grizzle, had been wanted for years by Equestrian law enforcement for the crime of devouring a pony’s beating heart in front of the unfortunate victim. In truth, he hadn’t really expected to take the vessel- just to engage, hopefully tie them down, and send a signal out to the nearest military vessel. The thought of two ponies clearing the ship in a matter of minutes was unthinkable.

But his eyes- well, eye- couldn’t lie. What he saw in front of him was unmistakably reality. He knew for a fact that Oracle’s supply of hallucinogens had been kept out of his food rations.

The deck of the Tomcat was coated in gore and feathers. Griffon corpses were splayed out, nails embedded deep in their carcasses, wings torn off, and down matted with blood. It was as if a typhoon of bullets and shrapnel had torn through the ship, leaving absolutely no survivors-

Well, save two. Two and a half. The half was a griffon whose lower limbs had apparently ceased to function, crawling away from the remaining two survivors in a panic.

Velvet’s aura levitated her pistol towards the fleeing bird, but Eye Lash’s hoof raised up and stopped it. With a grin that made Spyglass’ stomach attempt to turn itself inside out, he leveled his weapon at the griffon’s head and fired, point-blank.

The head exploded into bloody chunks, spattering the deck and most of the onlookers. Improbably, most of it avoided Eye entirely.

Spyglass’ mouth opened and closed on its own for several moments before Patch reached up and stopped it with a hoof. “Now are you ready to listen to me about why we should keep him around, captain?”

“That caliber of pistol shouldn’t even be able to do that,” Spyglass squeaked. He hadn’t been aware his voice could even reach a register that high.

“Ah, Captain! Excellent timing! I wanted to thank you for bringing me and Dahlia together!” Eye shouted, waving his pistol in the air. The trigger snapped, firing a stray bullet that whizzed past Spyglass’ snout before somehow managing to ricochet off a passing stormcloud and clip Patch’s ear before burying itself in the Tomcat’s deck.

“Mr. Patch! Are you alright?”

Patch simply glared at Spyglass with an intensity that didn’t quite match his soul-freezing stare from before, but came damn close.

“Ah.” Spyglass returned his attention to Eye, frantically running through his options. After rejecting “push him off the edge” three times, he finally settled on the least of all available evils. “Good work, Mr. Lash, Ms. Velvet. You may accompany Mr. Patch and myself as we examine the rest of the ship for survivors, prisoners, and goods.”

Eye raised his weapon in salute. Velvet accompanied him. “UNIT-EYE’S PERFORMANCE WAS EXCEPTIONAL, UNIT-SPYGLASS. TWELVE SHOTS, TWELVE KILLS.”

Something snapped in Spyglass’ brain again. “...that pistol can only fire six shots.”

“UNIT-EYE CAPTURED TWO ENEMY PISTOLS FROM ELIMINATED TARGETS.”

Spyglass crumpled to the deck in a dead faint.

Eye walked over to the Captain’s body and prodded it with a hoof. “Is he dead?”

“NEGATIVE. UNIT-SPYGLASS HAS MERELY REACHED A STATE OF ‘CANNOT EVEN’. THIS UNIT PREDICTS HE WILL RECOVER MOMENTARILY.”

“Pity. I thought I might get to be captain if he was,” Eye lamented. “Ah well! I suppose it’s no good wasting a perfectly capable future Admiral. Come along, Velvet! There are rooms to explore! Weapons, treasure, enemies! We might even find a corkscrew!”

Velvet tried to tilt her head to the side inquisitively, but failed as her gears locked once again, and so contented herself by twitching erratically in a very inquisitive fashion. “QUERY: OF WHAT SIGNIFICANCE IS A CORKSCREW TO UNIT-EYE?”

“Oh, trust me. They’re very handy.” Eye cantered to the door to the ship’s hold and blasted through the lock with a single shot of his pistol. “Well, off we go! Make sure you all don’t leave without us!”

As soon as the two had vanished through the door, Spyglass regained consciousness. Patch helped the pegasus to his hooves, even helpfully polishing his spyglass-eye. “Captain, are you alright?”

“I will never be alright again,” Spyglass groaned, “and neither will anyone else. This is quite possibly the worst day of my life.”

A child-like scream of excitement echoed from below decks. “Velvet, come quickly! Just look at this gun! It has four barrels!”

“Ah. Now it’s the worst.”

Patch laughed. “Oh, don’t worry, Captain... Just think - we completely overwhelmed the Tomcat with two ponies! With a reputation like that, ponies will surrender in droves! We’ll be terrors of the four winds! I think that’s a small price to pay for carrying around an extra psychopath or so, don’t you?”

Spyglass grunted. “I suppose that’s a plus…”

“Besides, he did have the whole fitting name going on. Which is more than I can say, come to think of it.” Mosquito looked pensive for a moment before brightening back up. “And don’t worry, Captain. I’m sure we’ll all adjust very quickly to having Mr. Lash on board.”

“That, Mr. Patch,” Spyglass snapped, “is exactly what I’m afraid of.”

“Allow me get this straight,” Spyglass said for the thirty-fifth time.

Patch grunted in response, preparing himself for the same battery of questions he’d been asked thirty-four times previous to this. It wasn’t all bad. He’d become so adept at answering these particular questions that he could now do it entirely automatically, leaving his brain free to ponder other things. For instance, exactly how amusing it would be if he were to “accidentally” knock Captain Spyglass overboard. Not lethal for a pegasus, but very embarrassing, and it was the thought that counted.

“You are somehow one-eighth of a vampire. By marriage.”

“Something like that. Debatable whether it’s an eighth or a sixth, really,” Patch replied, stifling a yawn as he allowed his mind to dwell on that strange “kicking wildly at the air” thing all pegasi did in a free fall before remembering that their wings existed.

“Last night you were attacked by Mr. Eye Lash with a stake because, improbably, he knew this about you.”

“Personally I think he just sleep-mutilates. But yes.”

“You have healed a wound the size of a good-sized slice of grapefruit-”

“Compact melon.”

“Whichever fruit,” Spyglass waved his hoof dismissively. “The point is that you have somehow miraculously healed a gaping open wound on the side of your face down to scar tissue in a matter of less than twenty-four hours.”

“It would appear so, Captain.” Patch prodded at his cheek, tracing the lines. “It’s a pity I’m only a vampire by marriage. If I was an eighth by blood, I probably could have just fixed the whole thing.”

“That…”

Patch stood silently and watched Spyglass’s entire body quiver as the captain’s mental gears began furiously turning, trying to comprehend this new piece of information. It reminded Patch of watching Velvet mid-malfunction, only with slightly more bursts of profanity midway through.

Eventually, Spyglass’s brain abandoned this pursuit and returned him to his original line of inquiry. “The particulars aside, Mr. Patch, how in Equus did you manage such a feat? I’ve never seen you heal from anything else this quickly. Your eye, for instance.” He pointed at Patch’s eponymous piece of headgear. “Why has that not regenerated yet?”

Patch rolled his one visible eye and grunted before reaching up with a hoof and pulling his eyepatch back. Beneath it was a fully functional, if slightly askew, eyeball. He smacked his own head with a free forehoof, knocking both eyes back into alignment. “Sorry. They tend to start moving on their own whenever I just roll the one,” he apologized to the still-bewildered captain. “This eye healed up months ago, maybe a couple of hours after I joined the crew. It was never gone, Oracle and Binoculars just decided that I needed a good eye nickname, couldn’t think of one, and bucked me in the face before handing me the patch.”

Spyglass opened his mouth to respond, then snapped it closed once more before rethinking things. “Actually, that is the most plausible thing I’ve heard within the last two days,” he admitted. “The eye-names thing is starting to get on my nerves. Maybe we should suspend it with the next crew member?”

“It would break Oracle’s heart, sir.”

“Good.” Spyglass’s feathers ruffled vengefully. “More to the point however, even with your reassurances that you have always been part creature of the night with superior regeneration capabilities, Mr. Patch, I’d like to have you looked at. We need to drop those slaves we freed off at a port town where they can arrange transportation back to Griffonstone anyway, and Tradewinds isn’t far from here. I know some local mages down at the college. If anything’s off, they’ll know.”

Patch shuddered. “The college for magical academics in Tradewinds? Are you sure, sir? All I know about them is that they practice alchemy and make semen-potions.”

“Semen-potions- what? No! I- who would- no!” Spyglass backed a few steps away, terror written on his face. “Who in Celestia’s kingdom would do such a thing?” He paused for a few seconds. “Who would do such a thing besides Mr. Lash?”

“Very bored magical college students who think it’s a great idea for a joke?” Patch suggested.

“...Once again, your grasp of logic shocks me, Mr. Patch. Remind me again why I haven’t promoted you yet?” Spyglass asked, shaking his head in defeat.

“Mostly a matter of seniority, sir. Also, the last time you promoted me, Eye Lash decided that I was now his personal vampire bodyguard and tried to hand me one of his guns. It had white stuff coming out of it. I am now making it a matter of personal conviction to refuse any and all promotions for the time being.”

Spyglass crumpled to the deck in a dead faint.

Patch allowed himself a small smile and cantered away to inspect the prize the crew had captured again. He knew that eventually Spyglass would wear him down enough to convince him to visit the academy and talk with whoever it was Spyglass knew there. In the meantime, he would enjoy this rare opportunity to talk back to an immediate superior.

The Tomcat had been scoured and scrubbed for two full days to remove the griffon corpses from its decks. As it turned out, Eye Lash had not been entirely conservative with his ammunition and methods. The entire crew had voted that during the next assault he would lead again, but this time without firing anything explosive into a griffon’s brain. They were hell to scrub off of things.

Patch wandered its decks, methodically checking each point of the ship to ensure that it was in working order. Fortunately, while the crew had been dispatched in a manner so gory and violent that even “bloodthirsty Binoculars” had privately said he felt Eye Lash had gone “a little too far”, the crazed unicorn’s bullets hadn’t damaged a single one of the ship’s actual timbers. All of the loot and all of the equipment remained intact. Patch decided not to dwell on this. Eye Lash was easier to get along with if you just accepted his impossibilities as a fact of life.

“Ah! Greetings, my vampire subject! How is my admiral?”

Patch felt a deep wave of regret wash over him. Of course Eye Lash was still on board. He probably wasn’t even halfway through naming, categorizing, and/or making tender, passionate love to Greta Grizzle’s famous collection of firearms. He was standing by the door of the airship’s hold at that moment, polishing a strange, four-barreled gun. Velvet sat beside him, occasionally twitching and belching sparks. Her head rose with an abrupt clacking noise as she sensed Patch’s presence.

“UNIT-PATCH, IT IS GOOD TO SEE YOU. MAY THIS UNIT REQUEST ASSISTANCE WITH A TASK? THIS UNIT HAS BEEN ASSIGNED TO WATCH THE PRISONERS TAKEN IN OUR ASSAULT.”

“Prisoners?” Patch scratched this side of his head with a wingtip, a feat possible only for pegasi who were at least one-sixteenth vampire. “What prisoners? You and Eye shot every last one of the crew members, threw most of the corpses over the side, and tried to save the last one to turn into a delightful puppet before the captain ‘accidentally’ knocked it over the side and tackled the two of you to stop you from- I mean, fell over.”

“Oh not them! I mean all those griffons we found in the hold!’ Eye Lash laughed. “The ones with the funny feather colors and gruff accents who keep saying they’re from Griffonstone. That’s silly! Everyone knows griffons are from Griffonholm! They must be really terrible liars.”

In that moment, Patch realized exactly what had driven Spyglass so hard and so far over the last few days. “Eye Lash…:” he began, groaning.

“That’s Mister Lash to you!”

“Right then. Mr. Lash,:” Patch snapped, “You do realize that Griffonholm isn’t even a real country, right? It’s a slave-taking rebellious state that split from our peaceful ally, Griffonstone, years ago. They’re currently in a state of civil war and Celestia herself is doing everything she can to aid King Glenda.”

“QUERY. UNIT-GLENDA IS KING, HOWEVER, UNIT-GLENDA POSSESSES A FEMALE-DESIGNATED NAME. HOW ARE THESE THINGS COMPAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-”

Eye Lash casually slammed one of his forehooves into the side of Velvet’s head. “There you go, my dear.”

“-PATIBLE. THIS UNIT IS MUCH OBLIGED, UNIT-EYE.”

“You can show me later,” Eye Lash crooned, licking all four barrels of his gun in a way that made Patch flinch at the very core of his being.

Instead of dwelling on how the unicorn had managed his oral feat, Patch moved on to a question he could answer. “Griffons always call their ruler a King. Always. Actually, the war apparently got started after one of Glenda’s sisters decided she would rather be called War-Goddess-Queen and then somehow the kangaroos got involved and things just spiraled from there.”

“Kangaroos?” Eye Lash’s face lit up. “I’ve never heard of them. Are they proud warriors? I could use a race of monstrous, proud warriors.”

“I’ve never met one,” Patch answered, inching away. “...And anyway, more to the point, all those griffons in the hold right now are Griffonstone natives. They’re slaves we’re freeing, not prisoners!”

“They aren’t prisoners?” Eye Lash’s elated expression vanished. “Then what were they locked in the hold for?”

“Probably to be sold in one of the port towns that aren’t as heavily policed by Celestia’s royal troops as exotic pets or something, I don’t know. Some ponies are sick that way. Please let them out?” Patch begged, frustration beginning to seep into his voice.

Eye Lash frowned and turned his face away, then turned it back with a bright expression. “So what you’re saying is that even if I let all of them go now, there’s still a chance I could have a pet griffon someday? Oh, perfect! I didn’t like any of these ones anyway. They smell like a ship’s hold.”

Patch decided it was time to beat a tactical retreat back to Spyglass’s side.

“So, Captain.”

“Mr. Patch.”

The two pegasi faced each other as the wind dramatically whipped through their manes, raising the overall coolness factor of the conversation by about twelve percent.

Patch coughed. “So, I still think that Eye Lash is a good crew member and we can’t afford to knock him overboard or ditch him. Especially if we want to keep the reputation we’re about to build when we head into port with the Tomcat.”

Spyglass nodded. “Go on.”

“Also, I don’t really want to drink any potions contaminated with semen. Not my thing. Vaginal fluids are also out. In fact, before we dump anything in my mouth that comes from that college, I want it scanned for bodily fluids. I’m sure we can hire someone for that.”

“Of course.”

“Oh, and I’m pretty sure I’ve always had the whole healing thing. Or at least since I hit puberty.”

“Naturally.”

“All of that said…” Patch took a deep breath. “I’ve decided to reconsider my whole reluctance-on-investigating-this stance. Because if anyone’s crazy enough to break reality, it’s probably feathering Eye Lash.”

“I’m so glad you’ve come around to my point of view, Mr. Patch.” To his credit, Spyglass managed to keep the smugness in his voice about eighty-five percent concealed.

“So, when do we leave for Tradewinds, then?”

“Immediately. I gave the order to set course as soon as I recovered from that dead faint earlier. Thank you for that, by the way, that’s the third time it’s happened this morning, and I almost broke my spyglass in the process.” Spyglass tapped his unusual ocular attachment meaningfully. “Incidentally, in a completely unrelated bit of news, you’re on potato-peeling duty tonight.”

Patch frowned. “We don’t even have potatoes in our food stock right now.”

“I had some brought over from the supplies we captured with the Tomcat. You’re welcome.”

Patch contented himself by staring down his captain with all the ice his heart could muster. This turned out to be quite a lot, as the wind immediately cooled by a few degrees and Spyglass decided it was an excellent time to quit the conversation entirely and retire to his quarters with so much speed that he actually made a pegasus-shaped hole in the air for a moment.

Patch grumbled as he walked down into the hold. Grievous bodily harm was one thing, but he would never forgive Eye Lash for inadvertently getting him stuck with galley duty.

Author's Note

It beginnnns...