With the Best of Intentions

Chapters

Nothing But the Truth
Paving the Road
Into Hell
The Rest is History

Nothing But the Truth

While nighttime had already set in, the usual restless crowds of the young and the lonely had yet to descend upon the streets. Instead, tardy couples and small groups from earlier evening activities were filing out of restaurants into the warm air with fleeting hopes that they would still avoid the coming droves of those seeking the nightlife. Precluding the later rush of ponies, a few lonely individuals drifted around to the various dives and hangouts. Among them, an anxious unicorn stallion fidgeted in front of a foggy window and peeked through a break in its faded blue interior curtains.

The bar was a hole in the wall, as one might label, and of the best kind. Certainly not one of those pretentious joints that only served top shelf drinks and exotic hors d'oeuvres, turning away folks who looked like they had to get their hooves dirty in order to make a living. This was one of those places that did not even have a sign over the door, which hung one window away to the stallion’s right. It was the type of place where ponies seemed to know its location as though by instinct.

The stallion gave himself a quick once-over, smoothing a few ruffled strands of errant pea green hairs in his coat and checked the contents of a small drawstring saddlebag that was strapped around his body and hung near his cutie mark: a magnifying glass crossed with a sharpened pencil. Then he took a deep breath and pushed through the door.

It was little more than a long, narrow room. There were half a dozen booths along the left side and five small tables running through the center of the room. A serving bar sat against the wall on the right with a single table flanking either end of the bar table.

The lights were low, bathing the room in an unobtrusive glow; an attempt feeling more like character charm than dark conspiracy. Glass bottles, ceramic jugs, and metal flasks gleamed behind the counter like jewels of amber, crystal, and topaz in a dragon’s hoard. Even the odd shade of emerald, sapphire, and ruby winked from inside of smaller bottles and vials tucked in around larger decanters. Off in a corner a jukebox hummed a tune; one of Sweetie Belle’s latest hits. Only half the booths and the pair of smaller tables were occupied and whatever conversations were going on were no match for the dulcet tones wafting out of the jukebox speakers. Anyone passing by the patrons would hear, at most, a vague murmur or chuckle.

It felt like the kind of place where you could make a new friend, or vanish into the corners on any given night. You could try a pint of everything until either the proprietor cut you off or you finally forgot whatever it was you were trying to escape. Everyone cared about you and did not care at all in the same stale breath.

The unicorn cast a glance around the booths and tables, noting that there were only a half dozen or so patrons seated. He was looking for one in particular. Spotting the pony he sought at the table furthest from the door, the unicorn approached a table near the back of the room, ignoring the scrutinizing look the bartender gave him as he passed by the counter.

The pegasus at the table was older but not yet what could be considered elderly. He had coral orange fur and an amber mane in the first stages of turning a weary white. Cobalt blue eyes stared intensely at a nearly empty hardwood mug. The unicorn strode boldly forward but the pegasus did not even look up when this new arrival stopped at his table. There was a silence between them before the unicorn cleared his throat.

“Lieutenant Rapidfire?”

The pegasus looked up and then back down at his mug. “Go away,” he grumbled.

Undaunted, the unicorn continued. “My name is Reggie.” He gestured to the wooden mug. “Can I buy you another?”

“Reggie?” Rapidfire snickered.

“I like it better than what my parents actually called me,” the unicorn responded without turning away from Rapidfire. “Legally changing your name is too much a hassle.”

Rapidfire continued to remain expressionless. “Are you a private investigator?”

Reggie shook his head. “No, sir.”

“A politician?”

“Not even school council.”

“Military?”

“Probably couldn’t do a single pushup.”

Rapidfire looked up at Reggie with narrowed eyes and leaned forward. There was a heavy smell of cider on his breath. “Are you a reporter?”

Reggie winced as his eyes darted around the room, looking for an acceptable response in the stale air. “Sort of.”

“That was a yes or no question, kid,” Rapidfire snorted and Reggie shifted his weight from one side to the other.

“Yes,” he finally answered.

“Wrong answer.” Rapidfire leaned back in his chair and resumed staring at his mug. “Go away.”

The bartender, who was still watching while putting away a tray of mugs, snorted derisively at the unicorn. A few of the other patrons that occupied the table and booth at the back of the room near Rapidfire chuckled while casting sideways glances at the exchange. Reggie’s ears drooped. He cleared his throat loudly. “Did I say yes? I meant no.”

“Wrong answer again. Go away,” Rapidfire said, more forcefully this time.

“If it’s a yes or no question, and neither one is right, then what’s the right answer?”

“I don’t like reporters, so that was a wrong answer. You lied to me and that was also a wrong answer. Got it? Now go. Away.” Those patrons nearby, and the bartender, which had laughed at Reggie’s expense, had abruptly grown silent.

Reggie looked around nervously at the new pairs of eyes which were now watching him. “Please, sir, I just need one evening of your time; just one evening.”

Rapidfire pointed an accusing hoof at the unicorn. “I don’t like reporters, and I don’t like liars.” He turned to the bartender. “Frank. Would you please?” Without a word the bartender, an earth pony wall of mahogany muscle with a straw-colored mane, stepped out from behind the counter and bodily hoisted Reggie off his hooves by his saddlebag strap. He started for the door with the unicorn dangling from his teeth like a kitten.

“Wait!” Reggie shouted as he struggled. A khaki-colored aura enveloped his bag and a ragged newspaper clipping floated out. “I’m writing about what really happened.”

The fluttering paper caught Rapidfire’s attention just enough to notice the headline emblazoned upon it: Wonderbolts’ Heroic Attempt to Free Zebra Captives Leaves Four Dead. He scoffed. “Everypony knows what really happened,” Rapidfire called back as he halfheartedly waved a dismissive hoof. “The newsponies told the story plenty of times.”

“But not the whole story!” Reggie flailed his legs out and braced them against the frame of the exit door. “They didn’t tell the whole story because they didn’t know the whole story. Facts got left out. Truths got omitted. You know the truth. I want to make sure everyone knows what really happened aboard that ship.” He grunted as Frank shoved against him. “Please!”

Rapidfire’s ears swiveled forward as he took a long look at the drops of liquid at the bottom of his mug. “Hold up, Frank.” There was a long pause punctuated by a deflating sigh from Rapidfire. “Let him go.”

Reggie grunted as Frank dropped him on his tailbone before the bartender returned to his station. Rapidfire peered over the top of his mug as the unicorn fumbled to his hooves. “Do you want to know what happened? Teammates, friends of mine, were murdered for a pile of gems.” He upended his mug and let the last dregs of his drink empty onto his tongue, then set the mug down gently. “One pony on the crew got himself hurt trying to be a hero for some slip of a filly. And the icing on the cake was two nations going to war. There you go, now you can write your story.”

“The Littlehorn Massacre was what started the War,” Reggie riposted as he put the newspaper scrap back into his bag. “I know there are some who claim the war as already being waged by then, but I can’t compare those skirmishes to what happened after the school was bombed.” Those which had been watching the exchange and near-expulsion turned back to their own drinks and conversations.

“You can’t spark a fire without a bunch of kindling, son,” Rapidfire countered. “There was heat already rising and the school bombing might have been the final spark, but that ship was the fuel.”

Reggie did not let up with his barrage of comments. “The energy crisis was in full swing and the coal markets crashed because the zebras wouldn’t trade with us anymore. Diplomatic slips and cultural clashes were the subject of editorials almost every week. Pirates and privateers stopped being storybook characters and started being a real threat to both sides. There was already a lot of kindling to go around.” Although Reggie had returned to Rapidfire’s table by then, he remained a respectful leg’s length away. One eye kept glancing back towards Frank every now and then.

Rapidfire rubbed his eyes with the backs of his hooves. “Have you ever been camping?” the pegasus asked in a tired voice. “Sticks and grass scattered around on the ground don’t count for much until either you gather them up together, or unless you set the whole forest ablaze. Sure, Canterlot and Roam had their problems with each other, but it was never anything serious enough to start killing each other over. When pony blood was spilled on board that boat, everything changed.” Rapidfire pounded a hoof on the table. “Militias, coastal patrols, the Skyguard. That’s the day it all came tumbling down.”

Rapidfire turned his mug over in his hooves and inspected its curves as he spoke. “So then I have to wonder, what are you doing, digging into this business?”

“I talked to Seabreeze.”

Rapidfire’s spine stiffened. He lowered his voice. “Who told you about her?”

“I looked up the names on the ship’s manifest and started working my way through the list.” Reggie produced another leaf of paper from his bag and held it up. It was a list of names, all with lines crossed through them. “Pretty much everypony’s story matched, but we both know that’s because they were held together in a single room. Of course their stories would all match if none of them could be out of sight for more than a couple of minutes.” He put the list away. “Then I visited Seabreeze. You know she’s undergoing regular therapy sessions?”

A moment of silence reigned before Rapidfire answered. “I...visited once or twice. The doctors told me I was making it worse, so I stopped going.” His voice dropped even lower. “Didn’t know she was still having problems.” He looked up at Reggie. “How did you get in to see her?”

“I, um, lied when I told the staff why I was there to talk to her. She broke down before she could tell me everything but I heard enough. Something happened on that ship that was never talked about publically.” Reggie then noticed that Rapidfire was grinding his teeth and took a step backwards.

“Of all the ponies you could have picked for questioning, you picked Seabreeze. I can almost look past you lying in order to get your interview, but how dare you ambush her while she’s vulnerable and still recovering?” He began to rise from his chair. “That mare witnessed things she never should have seen and you have the gall to corner her in a place where she’s supposed to feel safe. I ought to kick your gut up into your spine for that and send you skipping down the street.” Reggie took another step backwards but Rapidfire paused and then sank back into his seat.

“But--” Reggie began.

Rapidfire held up a hoof and the unicorn quieted. “But I’m not going to do that. What you pulled was almost as bad as what I did right after the mission, so I’m not going to condemn you. Do you want to hear this or not?” Reggie blinked twice and nodded. “Then sit down and shut up.” Reggie sat down, but remained perched on the edge of the seat. He jumped when Rapidfire pounded the table again. “Frank! One for him and another for me, please.”

“Thanks.” Reggie gulped. “But I don’t drink.”

“If I have to tell this story then I need to drink, and if I’m drinking then you’re drinking. Got it?” The statement hung in the air with no room for misinterpretation.

“Yes, sir.”

“Cut that ‘sir’ crap out,” Rapidfire said in reply. “I’m no more a ‘sir’ than Frank ‘n’ Beans back there is a mare.” Two wooden mugs landed on the table with more than a little bit of clattering and spillage of cider foam, the giant bartender giving Reggie a lingering look that the unicorn shrank beneath. Rapidfire took a long drink from his fresh mug. “Now listen up and pay attention, because I’m not going to repeat myself.”

A worn pad and pencil floated out of Reggie’s bag and hovered just above the table, bathed in an anticipating khaki-colored glow.

“It all started with the best of intentions, you know?” Rapidfire began. “After all, we were supposed to be out there saving lives. Whose territory it was and whose intelligence team was saying what didn’t make a difference to us back then. There was a mission from the Princess and there were ponies in danger. No one should need any better incentive, so it was a volunteer job. All of us raised our hooves. Back then, everypony knew that the Wonderbolts were an aerial performance team first and foremost, but few understood that we trained in combat maneuvers and tactics on side. Just in case. I’ll admit we didn’t always acquit ourselves well in that regard. That big purple and green fellow, for instance, that attacked Ponyville years ago, dished us out a smart bit of humility even if we did manage to shave a few lengths of his scales off the top. We were certainly more prepared and capable than anypony else, except maybe some of the elder vets in the old Guard, to deal with tough situations. That’s why the Princess came to us and sent us in: because we were the best.”

Rapidfire coughed twice into his hoof and took another swallow from his drink. “The old team was still together back then too. Spitfire, Soarin, Fleetfoot, Misty Fly, Whiplash, Lightning Streak, Fire Streak; the whole gang from back when the thing that scared us most was coming in second in a race or getting injured bad enough to be grounded. Back before the team was reformed into a strike squadron.” He pulled on his right wing and the appendage extended at an acute angle. Several pinion feathers refused to spread apart. “Damn fool unicorn medic. No offense. The idiot cast a mending spell on it before loosening the bandages and setting the bones and muscles straight; fused it all wrong. The real doctors later told me that re-breaking and resetting the bones would only make the damage worse, so I got myself permanently grounded. What use is a pegasus that can’t fly?”

“You were injured rescuing the hostages,” Reggie stated.

Rapidfire nodded gravely. “Yeah. I lost full use of a wing and my spot on the team, but we knew injury or worse would be a possibility before we volunteered.”

“If it helps, just start right before the rescue attempt.” Reggie had settled back in his chair, the pencil still poised above the pad of paper. “What was going through your head? What were the team’s feelings?”

Rapidfire took another long swallow of his cider. “Our intelligence was vague. All we knew was that an Equestrian vessel laden with gems and other cargo had been hijacked by zebra pirates. Some reports claimed they were in the territorial waters of Zebrica and therefore it was up to Roam to take action. The Caesar had declined. Other reports said that the two ships were in international waters and subject to no one’s sole jurisdiction. Even though we knew the general location of the pirates and their captives, the nuances of international treaty meant that we had set out on this mission under a veil of secrecy.”

He swirled the cider around in the mug, his gaze gradually becoming lost in the spinning liquid. “The morning it went down started off as many of our mornings once did.”

Paving the Road

“I feel kind of sick,” Soarin moaned.

Breaking formation, I angled towards him with forelegs outstretched. I came in underneath by dropping a bit in altitude and gave him a sharp poke in the stomach. He nearly doubled over but still managed to take a swipe at my head. “One too many apple pies, buddy?” I mockingly chided.

A laughing chorus of japes and jabs flew at Soarin as I rolled around him within reach and lingered just long enough for him to lash out and graze the side of my cheek. It seemed only fair to give him the chance to take a shot at me in return. I did feel some sympathy, afterall. “I thought you were ordered to lay off the sweets before flights.”

“I was only going to take one bite.” The face he gave me was a mixture of nausea and regret with a hint of shame. It was a familiar sight to anypony that spent enough time around Soarin to have seen him take on a dessert table.

“And then another and another and another,” I added, as per protocol. No way was I going to let him off the hook, especially since it was such a fine day for flying. This far out to sea the heavier clouds from the land-sea interface had broken apart and lay widely scattered across a sky that was almost as blue as the waters which we glided over. It was summer and closer to Zebrica that would mean an uncomfortable combination of humidity and heat, but up here--everything felt pleasantly cool. A couple more of my fellow Wonderbolts joined in, giving Soarin their own good-natured comments when our flight lead pulled us back into the reality of the situation.

“Cut the chatter. Back in formation, Rapidfire.” Spitfire’s no-nonsense voice cut through the mirth like a cold knife. I angled away from Soarin and retook my place in the echelon. I liked Spitfire. Maybe it would be more accurate to say that I admired her as a commander. Either way, when she gave an order, anypony that had served under her command knew that obedience was expected. I saw her shift in formation to approach another of our squad. “Misty Fly, how long till we reach the vessels?”

Misty’s response was near instantaneous. “We’re a couple hundred lengths up, so at this altitude we should be able to see them very soon if they haven’t gotten back underway. I have a search pattern in mind if that’s the case.” She was sharp and quick; almost on par with Spitfire, I thought.

“Is this for real? I mean, are we really going to try and talk down a bunch of zebra pirates?”

My lips tightened out of reflex, but I bit back the retort with which I wanted to answer. “For the tenth time, Whiplash, yes. Princess Celestia doesn’t want anyone hurt on this mission and we’re the best that Equestria has to offer. The Caesar won’t grant permission to retake the ship because everypony’s arguing over borders and political technicalities. So we’re going in to try and persuade the pirates to release the hostages and the cargo. Maybe we can settle this whole thing quietly.” I was not looking at him, but I could feel Whiplash smirking.

“And if they don’t want to give in and play nice?”

If Spitfire noticed the look, she did not say anything. “Our primary orders are to secure the crew and, if possible, the ship and its cargo.”

“Here’s to hoping for the latter,” he added.

I heard Fleetfoot raising her voice above the winds. “Hey, what’s got you itching for a fight?”

Whiplash’s verbal smirk, momentarily undeniable, shifted downward in tone. “Have you heard the latest things the zebras are saying about Equestria? How we’re a bunch of greedy dragons in pony skins, and how if it weren’t for zebra coal then Equestria would still be a backwards hovel of a country? I’m not going to stand for those kinds of lies.”

“I’ve heard similar, if not worse, coming from more than a few ponies in Equestria about the zebras,” Fleetfoot countered. “You’d think we were heading for a big fight the way all the talk is going.”

Fire Streak chimed in with his two bits. “No way. The Princesses would never let it come to that; not in a thousand years.”

Lightning Streak, always one to follow in Fire’s wake, took her turn. “Lots of people like to believe that, but the Princesses don’t dictate the actions of other races. Zebras, dragons, griffins, diamond dogs; they’re all going to do what they want regardless of what Celestia and Luna ask of them.”

Spitfire silenced any further comments. “That’s enough with the politics. Let’s go over the mission one more time while we have the chance.”

“But we’ve already gone over everything a dozen times,” Whiplash whined.

“Keep up the backtalk and you’ll be turning in your uniform once this is over. This is serious! Act like it. Now, each of you will brief your portion of the mission in turn and I’ll field any questions afterwards. Got it? Soarin, you start us off.”

We had barely even made it through the background intelligence briefing when Misty shouted, “There they are!”

Soarin ceased talking and we all followed Misty’s pointing hoof to the horizon. Sure enough, a dark smudge was crawling over the horizon and creeped towards us as the formation winged forward. I saw Spitfire nod once and signal for us to continue, verbally running through the motions of the operation. Even though we could see the ship, it would still be some time before we were close enough to actually set up for the first portion. I guessed that thirty minutes had elapsed before we had finished going through everypony’s part. We flew in relative silence for the next ten or twenty minutes before Spitfire gave us the signal.

She adjusted her goggles and the rest of us followed suit. “Alright team; we do this by the numbers. Low-level, high-speed pass in formation pairs. Sing out if you spot anything unusual or potentially dangerous. You know your assignments. We’ll touch down on whatever deck the pirates occupy. See you all down there!”

What I noticed first was the larger of the two ships. From a distance I could make out the blurred outline of a second ship alongside the larger one. It was the larger ship that was Equestrian. It was long and low to the water with three tall masts. A pair of black smokestacks stuck out of the deck just forward of the middle section and reached about a quarter of the way up the main mast. The deck was washed in white and the hull above the water was painted a muted cherry. As details became clearer, I made out a gently shaped bow and downward curving sponsons that gave the hull a shape resembling that of a whale. I could not see any unfurled sails on any of the masts or smoke from the stacks. As we drew nearer, I was able to get a good look at the other ship that was tied up alongside of the larger.

The other vessel was definitely not of Equestrian design. Airships and seagoing vessels of pony creation tend to mimic animals, as you know, but this ship was clearly built by zebra hooves. Long curves and sweeping lines marked the upturned bow and gunwales. Two aft-sweeping masts and a single smaller twin all the way at the back end held a pair of sails in tightly packed bundles while a single smokestack jutted out between the larger pair. The prow of the ship tapered to a tight point and flat planks ran along either side, looking as though they might be narrow hoofboards that ran all the way to the tip. Artistic flourishes were built right into the pointed stern and a stylized carving of an equine skull dominated the underside of the prow. She appeared to be moored closely to the Equestrian ship with maybe three or four pony lengths between them. They were both bobbing mildly in the still seas.

Spitfire gave the signal.

It was a standard high-low-high reconnaissance pass that was taught in the Wonderbolt Academy, but standard does not always mean boring. This was especially true since this time I was part of the “low” pass team. We split off into pairs: Whiplash with Fleetfoot, Soarin with Fire Streak, and me with Misty Fly. Lightning Streak brought up the tail end. Spitfire flew solo as the vanguard of our formation. She was the first to cross over the ships.

High speed, low drag was the Wonderbolt style and we all tried to emulate the same flair that our leader seemed to exude naturally. The wind howled in my ears and, at this speed, made hearing anypony impossible. I could not see any movement on the upper decks of either ship as Spitfire rocketed overheard fast enough to send a vapor trail streaming over the heads of those out on deck. The two pairs ahead of Misty and I followed suite down either side at slightly slower speeds to get a better picture. Then it was our turn.

By now our arrival had been clearly noticed. As we started our run, I could make out a scrambling of heads and dark manes as they emerged from hatches in the deck and doors along the superstructure of both vessels. I nodded to Misty and she wordlessly returned the gesture. Together we dove until our legs were a few scant hooves from the crests of the waves. Just before we reached the Equestrian ship we put on a burst of speed and pulled, skimming the top of the pilothouse and eliciting several shouts from below that were lost in the winds that whistled around our wings. There were no weapons immediately visible but I was sure everypony saw the same thing that I had: zebras.

Half a dozen striped bodies stood out on the deck of the Equestrian vessel but I felt certain that there were more staying hidden from view. Another few--I could not get an accurate count--waited aboard their own ship and gestured up at us as we regrouped into close formation. One thing I noticed that left a heavy feeling in my gut was that I did not spot a single pony. Spitfire signaled for reports and I signed the number of zebras I had counted as well as “no danger.” Similar counts appeared from each member as well as an agreement that the decks of both ships appeared free of any major risk. As we looped back around and settled in over the top of the Equestrian ship, Spitfire gave the signal and, as a unit, we dropped from the sky and landed upon its deck.

The effect was immediate as the six zebras we had spotted broke from their small cluster and took up positions around our formation. They were carrying various implements, like ironshod clubs and hefty copper spikes, that I assumed could be used as weapons. The barely restrained malice on their faces was plain as day. None of them spoke a word to us. A heavy thumping noise pulled me from my inspection of the assembly as another zebra, this one much larger, pulled himself through a hatch opening on the main deck with two more zebras emerging after him. There was no gear hanging from the simple yet rugged harness wrapped around his barrel and haunches, but I had no doubt that this zebra was the leader. He wore an impressive array of scars like a Wonderbolt would wear medals or meritorious ribbons. Atop his head sat a hoop of pale, twisted wood that was woven into his braided black mane. A tangle of small bones, tarnished beads, and what looked like shark’s teeth hung from each braid in an irregular manner. The trinkets rattled against one another as he approached.

He was flanked by the pair of zebras which had appeared with him, these dressed in haggard suits made of something that looked like hide and cloth. These two were far less impressive physically, but their intense gazes and the way they seemed to stalk rather than stride gave them an air of danger. All of the zebras wore harnesses similar to their leader’s, but this pair had weapons hanging from cords. They also had bones woven through their manes, whereas I only saw beads in the other zebras’ manes; no one except the leader had the teeth of a shark as a trophy. The trio stopped and stood before Spitfire with an air of confident scorn.

“Are you the one in charge here?” Spitfire asked of the larger zebra.

He nodded. “I am Wakku and this is my band.” He took it in turn to look at each of us Wonderbolts. “You have brought many warriors with you, I see.”

“Very smart for ponies to send fighters instead of talkers,” one of the zebras that had accompanied Wakku added. Tied across his chest was a length of cord that looked suspiciously like a scourge and there were hoofcuffs dangling from his harness.

“Very foolish,” the other of Wakku’s entourage amended. He carried two long, thin blades; one sheathed on each of his flanks. “We sink pony ship if ponies act funny.” Wakku had not introduced any of the other zebras, so in my mind I called the pair which I took to be his lieutenants, respectively, Scourge and Blade.

Spitfire took a step forward and spoke directly to Wakku. “I’m Spitfire, Captain of the Wonderbolts. We’re not here to fight. Princess Celestia has sent us to discuss the release of the crew and this vessel. If we can settle this peacefully, then nopony else needs to suffer.”

“Nopony.” Wakku spat a thick wad of saliva that landed on the deck between himself and Spitfire. “No pony, you say. Even when someone else holds all the cards you still cannot help but sound arrogant and elitist.” He threw a disdainful grimace at her. “You wish for nopony to get hurt, but I doubt you extend the same feelings towards us zebras.” There was a muttered chorus of agreements from the other zebras.

Spitfire glanced around at those which had us all encircled before answering, her face remaining impassive. “That’s just how we say it in Equestria.”

“We are not in Equestria.” The statement hung in the air like a threat.

“Neither are we in Zebrica,” she countered carefully.

“Who claims these waters is for the politicians to decide. I do not care about territory. All that does matter is how this ends.”

I watched Spitfire’s eyes narrow a bit, not quite matching the disdainful look of the zebra leader but approaching something resembling contempt. “And how do you want it to end?”

Wakku pawed at the deck with a hoof. “You call us pirates, but it is you that have stolen from our people.” He turned and walked to the other side of the ship. For a few breaths he stared out at the open sea before turning and marching back. “My people provide you the fuel to keep your houses warm and your streets bright. You offer gems in payment, but you pay little compared to what you are given.” He stomped once, hard enough that I felt the wooden deck vibrate.

“The least of Zebrica is equal to the greatest of Equestria, but your ruler and your people treat all zebras as mere merchants or rogues.” He pointed an accusing hoof at Spitfire. “Ponies speak sweet words, but your actions are bitter-tasting. How do I want this to end? I would have the eyes of the world opened. I would have this end with justice being served and those responsible held accountable for their actions.”

Whiplash chose that moment to step out of formation and point an accusing hoof. “Such as the hijacking of an unarmed Equestrian-flagged ship, taking the entire crew hostage? Stealing the cargo? How about answering for those crimes.”

Blade also broke rank and stepped up to Whiplash. “Pony should speak to chieftain with respect!”

“He’s not my chieftain.”

Blade turned to the zebra leader and bowed his head. “Maze Wakku, ponies here to make trouble!”

Wakku looked down at his lieutenant and silently motioned with his head to Blade’s original spot. Blade looked like he was going to say something in reply but bowed his head lower and returned to the flanking position. As he did, Wakku spoke to him. “No, they are here to negotiate, because if they try to use force...” He looked back at Spitfire. “Then I cannot know what might happen to their people if violence breaks out. You understand as a fellow warrior, Spitfire?”

Spitfire glowered. “I understand that you’re a thief, a traitor to your own people, and a ponynapper. I also understand that Princess Celestia doesn’t want anyone hurt. That’s anyone, not just anypony. Understand?”

The chieftain nodded once. “We will talk to satisfy your princess’ desire, but nothing will come of simply talking. If either of our rulers has yet to speak with us directly, then there is nothing you can say or offer that will change our minds.” Wakku motioned towards a low stack of the crates that had been lashed to the deck. “Come, sit with me and let us waste time with words while those in their high towers and great halls continue to stall. It is only your fellow ponies that will suffer from more delays.”

Spitfire did not move from where she stood. “I want my team to look over the hostages to make sure they’re in good health.”

Wakku let the demand hang in the air for several moments before answering, “I will allow two of you to examine them.” He nodded in the direction of the pirate’s vessel. “They are under guard in my personal cabin. Except for their captain.” A few of the zebras nickered and I noticed that Scourge and Blade both cast a dark grin over us ponies.

“What does that mean?” Spitfire asked, her voice dropping in temperature. I also noticed Spitfire shifting her weight into a lower stance--a fighting stance.

Wakku shrugged, either not noticing or not caring about the change in tone or body language. “Two days ago he attacked me. He is not here anymore.” Whiplash moved towards the chieftain, but Spitfire suddenly appeared in front of him. The fire in her eyes was enough to cause her subordinate to stop and slink back into our formation. Spitfire said nothing but turned to Wakku and regarded the large zebra. Her tail lashed back and forth as her wings twitched a few times before she regained control.

She turned her head towards myself and Misty Fly. “Rapidfire and Misty, you two check on the hostages.” She gestured to her second-in-command. “Soarin, you’re with me.” Then to the remainder of our team. “The rest of you stand watch topside. Get moving.” Finally, she stepped up to Wakku and looked, unflinchingly, up into his eyes. “Alright, Wakku, let’s you and I talk.”

The two leaders began to walk towards the front of the Equestrian ship and the zebras that had gathered for our arrival loosened their circle. Misty and I were pointed towards the larger of the two relatively small deck structures on the zebra ship, which had a guard armed with a harpoon posted outside of the single door. There was, what I guessed to be, from the few pirate stories I had read as a colt, a gangplank that was spanning the distance between the two vessels. It had been tied down on either end but was still loose enough that when the ships rocked, the plank of wood freely slid back and forth but never came close to falling into the water. Not wanting to accidentally raise the tension any more than it already had been by taking flight, Misty and I carefully traversed the walkway and stepped onto the pirate ship.

~~*~~

“Hold up!” Reggie blurted out abruptly. “What was that about the captain of our ship? The newspapers and reports said there were only Wonderbolt casualties. They said there were no civilian casualties and only one serious injury among the crew.”

“You said yourself that you suspected the official story was incomplete.” Rapidfire leaned in close to Reggie and his voice dropped to a whisper. “You were right.” He leaned back in his chair and continued at a normal volume, “The newspapers said none of the captives died in the fight. That’s true, sort of. Technically, there were no civilian casualties during the fight between the Wonderbolts and the pirates. That’s because the captain was killed before we got there. Half of the Wonderbolt team died that day. Having to openly admit that a civilian was lost as well would have been an even bigger disaster for Canterlot; anyone can see that much.”

“But the crew would have come forward,” Reggie countered. “The family and friends of the captain would have said something.”

“Would they?” Rapidfire chuckled darkly. “In a nation moving towards a war, especially a nation who has prided itself on unity of effort and devotion to the crown, do you think those ponies couldn’t be persuaded to keep quiet? Especially for the good of the country? Equestria hadn’t had anything resembling a war for over a thousand years. So, naturally, ponies were scared and turned towards their leaders to protect them or give them the means to protect themselves.”

Rapidfire tapped a hoof on the table. “The Equestrian Skyguard.” Tap. “Civilian firearm manufacturers.” Tap. “Envoys to places like the Buffalo lands. All of those wheels started turning soon after the incident with the pirates. And I’d bet my last bit that anypony trying to stop those wheels from turning would have just been run right over.”

Reggie let out a breath he had not realized that he was holding. “Seabreeze never mentioned the captain. I can’t… I mean, I don’t...” He buried his head in his hooves. “What else don’t we know?”

“Still want to follow me down this road, kid?” Reggie uncovered his head, looked over at Rapidfire, and nodded gravely. “Okay then. Now, have you ever seen a zebric ship design called a xebec?”

~~*~~

Whereas the Equestrian ship looked like the designers could not decide between wind or steam propulsion, the zebra ship felt like it was in the middle of transforming from a sailing vessel into a purely steam-driven one. The gunwales were much lower than on the Equestrian ship and the weatherdeck was surprisingly open and free of obstacles, minus the masts and smokestack. One sizeable structure made up the majority of the aft end while a smaller one, about the size of a two-pony carriage, sat up near the bow. There was also a great difference in the materials of the ships. On the zebra vessel, I noticed a far more closed grain wood exposed to the elements whereas the pony ship was mostly painted all over. A faint smell of tar seemed to waft from everywhere and I could feel the motion of even the smaller waves more readily upon this ship.

After crossing over we approached the aft structure and stopped in front of the guard who had turned to square off against us. He was thin and he looked us up and down, tightening his grip on his harpoon as he did, with a wary eye. Just the one eye too, because it was then that I noticed his left eye was almost entirely obscured with a milky haze. The voice of the zebra I called Scourge wafted over in Zebrican and, with a grunt, the guard opened the door. We moved inside and the guard, whom I thought of as One-Eye, moved to follow. We crossed the threshold and a cry rose up, both heartened and saddened.

“The Wonderbolts!”
“Thank the Sisters.”
“We’re saved!”

Seventeen frightened ponies--fourteen earth ponies, two unicorns and a single pegasus--were crammed into a room only large enough to comfortably hold six, but they looked to be in fair condition. If they had once kept any personal items on them, all had since been taken away. The ponies before us either lay or sat upon the flooring, their eyes and ears perking up as they realized that our arrival was not an illusion. I could see a few marks of fighting upon their bodies and each of them looked like they could use a good meal and a full night's sleep. There was also the sharp tang of unwashed bodies. The open windows allowed a cool breeze to keep the air from turning completely sour, but I could see little else in the manner of comfort. There was another door that led to what I assumed was a different room, or maybe it was a stairway to the below deck areas, but it was blocked by another zebra guard. This one was very different from the guard outside.

Whereas One-Eye looked like he had missed more than a few meals, this second zebra guard apparently had eaten more than his fair share. He was large but not what I would call fat. Not as tall or imposing as Wakku, but certainly more thickly muscled. He looked bored too. Attached to his equipment harness were several small bags smelling faintly of dried fruit. He too was armed but instead of a traditional weapon, brass horseshoes were secured around his front fetlocks with canvas and wire straps. Despite the seriousness of the situation, I could not stop my mind from drifting into someplace comical to alleviate the tension. So I decided to call this zebra Tiny.

Misty took charge straightaway and waded into the packed pile of ponies. “Is everypony here alright?” There was a chorus of complaints about food and water quality, cramped legs, and a few shouts inquiring about the sincerity of the question, but most heads nodded an affirmative. She gave a few of the more apprehensive ones reassuring hugs. “We’re going to check each of you individually and make sure you’re okay.”

I noticed One-Eye and Tiny shifting their weight from one side to the other nervously. “That alright with you two?” I asked calmly. The zebras glanced at one another before slowly nodding their heads.

“But… but I thought we were being rescued?”

I did not try to find out which of the hostages had blurted that out. Instead I addressed the whole group while starting to visually inspect one of the captured stallions for injuries. “You are, but this isn’t a Steven Neighgal movie. Spitfire and Soarin are talking with the zebra chieftain right now to negotiate your safe release. Just stay put, remain calm, and we’ll have you home in no time.” My answer brought a chorus of responses.

“Negotiate? You can’t negotiate with pirates.”
“Do you even know what they’re asking for in return?
“How do we know they’ll keep their word if they get what they want?”
“Roam will never grant their request.”
“Can’t you do something?”

“Keep quiet, ponies!” Tiny shouted. Everyone, including myself, tensed at the volume. I glanced up at the guards. One-Eye was still holding tightly onto his weapon, but had not leveled it at either us or the hostages.

I continued, “Like I said, please keep calm and don’t do anything to exacerbate the situation. Everyone onboard is playing nice and we’d like to keep it that way. Your cooperation will help make all of this go more quickly.” There were continued grumblings that shifted through the group of ponies but they all settled down and submitted to our examination.

As we moved among the captives, my initial impressions were confirmed. Minor injuries here and there with the worst bruising on the two unicorns. There was no way I could call anything about the situation normal, but there was one earth pony stallion that caught my eye.

He had a beige hide and a goldenrod mane. Nothing impressive but it was the movement of that mane that drew my attention. It kept slowly turning to watch the two zebra guards before lingering on the door that led to another part of the ship. I did not like the picture that was beginning to form in my mind.

When we were finished I motioned for Misty to follow me and we stepped just outside of the cabin. One-Eye watched us from the cabin but did not follow.

“How did the crew look to you?” I asked her.

“Some bruises, a number of superficial scrapes, and a few shallow cuts but nothing serious. Looks like the unicorns took the worst of it. Figured the zebras would first want to subdue anypony with magic.” She glanced back towards the room. “Still, it’s not their physical condition that has me worried.”

I joined her gaze. That beige stallion, I also recalled, had not joined in with the others in expressing relief at our arrival, or incredulity that a rescue was not immediately eminent. “That earth pony with the goldenrod mane?”

Misty nodded. “Mm-hmm. He wasn’t speaking up like most of them when we came in and he’s been fidgeting this whole time.”

“I noticed it too. But he’s also been ponynapped by pirates and had his life threatened. I’d be nervous too.”

Misty shook her head. “No one else was avoiding making eye contact with me, and he was glancing over that pretty little blond mare every minute or so.”

I had not seen those glances and the dots I was starting to connect were adding up to an unpleasant picture. “I saw him checking out the hatches and the zebras several times.” I did not want to say it out loud but it had to be voiced. “You think that…” I motioned with my head at the stallion in question.

Misty nodded her head in agreement. “We might have a wannabe hero on our hooves. I’ve seen the same look on cadets’ faces right before they try to impress an instructor with something stupid. This one might be planning to make a grab for one of the zebras.”

I wanted to kick the wall next to me in frustration but settled for a deep sigh. There was always at least one “hero” mixed in with crowds under pressure. I cast a glance at the zebra guards as One-Eye slid closer to Tiny and began to whisper something I could not hear. “We can’t say anything to them or they might try to make an example of him. Can you set our daredevil straight without drawing attention?”

She nodded. “If you can run interference for a minute or two.”

“No problem.” I sidled up to the two guards and flashed my winning smile as nonchalantly as I could. “So…you guys speak Equestrian pretty well. I took a couple of Zebric classes when I was in school but none of it stuck too well.”

“Pony study language?” One-Eye asked in a strained voice.

“A little bit, among other things. Most of my classes actually involved me trying to talk my way out of an assignment so I could play hoofball. Turns out I could argue almost as fast as I could gallop.”

Tiny thumped his chest. “Zebra study history and tradition when young. Rest of time, we study war.”

I tilted my neck to crack a few stiff vertebrae in an effort to steal a glance at Misty without making it obvious. Not the best way to get a good look, but enough to see that more time was needed. “Not all of you, though, right? A civilization built by nothing but warriors and historians isn’t going to last for very long. You need farmers and builders; thinkers and planners. Even the Wonderbolts moved past our original role in the military to become a team that unites as well as fights.”

One-Eye spoke up again, “Ponies talk, zebras show. We go and do; no need for talk.” Likely to prove the point of his smaller compatriot, Tiny tensed his body and his stocky muscles looked for all the world like they were trying to escape from his hide.

I tossed the pair what I hoped was a convincing facsimile of a friendly, winning smile. “So… not much chatter in the cafes of Roam then, I suspect?” It apparently was not as winning as I had hoped because neither of them answered. Then, both of them looked past me.

One-Eye frowned so severely that I was sure his lower jaw was going to fall right off as he craned his neck around me. “What is other pony doing?”

I made a show of trying to look surprised by the question before casually looking over my shoulder. “Nothing worth bothering yourselves. She’s just checking to make sure the crew are healthy and comfortable, just as we were ordered and your chieftain agreed.” I flashed my “winning” smile again.

“She talks too long with shifty-eyed pony.” One-Eye observed. He raised his voice and pointed at the crewmember. “You! Come!” When the stallion did not comply the zebra shoved his way past me and waded through the captives. When he reached the stallion, the zebra roughly hauled him to his hooves.

“Now hold on just a feather-picking minute,” Misty protested, raising her voice and placing a wing around the shoulders of the earth pony who was now quickly looking back and forth between One-Eye and a lithe, seafoam green mare who I had visually glossed over during my earlier inspection. Tiny also moved towards the scuffle, wading through the seated captives as one would through a field of tall grass.

I saw it happening in my mind’s eye a moment before it actually occurred. The stallion’s legs tensed and his eyes locked onto One-Eye’s single good eyeball. He then turned to the green mare and nodded once. There was nothing I could do or say quickly enough to prevent the mistake.

One-Eye pulled again. “I say come no-ufff!” Faster than I had assumed he would be, the stallion launched himself upward and slammed both front hooves into the zebra’s chest, driving the captor back and sending him stumbling onto the crowded deck of the room as the other ponies scrambled to move away.

“Run for it, Seabreeze!” he shouted before One-Eye was back on his hooves and almost atop him. The green mare bolted like a rabbit from a bush and headed straight for the door that led into the interior of the pirate ship.

“Grab her!” Tiny yelled as he turned to try and reach her, but his smaller counterpart was not paying attention and neither zebra was in a position to stop Seabreeze. She clambered over her fellow crew members, wrenched open the door, and threw a glance over her shoulder at the beige stallion.

“I kill you!” One-Eye growled as he slammed his hooves down atop the captive stallion, who in turn had his forelegs raised to try and block what blows he could manage.

Misty rammed her shoulder into One-Eye and shoved him off of the stallion. “Stop it!”

I was not sure if I needed to stop Seabreeze or help the stallion, and in my moment of indecision I saw the mare tear her eyes from the fight and disappear down a dimly illuminated set of stairs. The door slammed shut behind her.

“He’s going to kill us all!” The captive turned would-be hero crawled through the sea of ponies, clutching his wheezing chest, as everyone lurched to their hooves in a panic. I saw Misty react and pivot to place herself between the stallion and One-Eye, whose glare shone with murderous intent. I did the same and pushed my way to the side of Tiny as he neared the door used by Seabreeze.

I managed to slip past him and reach the door first, and blocked it with my body. Though the zebra was at least half again as heavy as me, I widened my stance and planted my hooves as firmly into the deck as I could manage. “Back off.”

The sudden brazenness of the situation must have tipped some balance because Tiny only gave me a cursory snarl before he barked something in Zebric to the other and he lumbered out of the room and onto the weatherdeck. I could hear him shouting something as One-Eye backed up to stand equidistant between the two doors and leveled his harpoon at the crowd.

“Make sure he’s okay,” I instructed Misty even as she was already moving to check on the battered stallion that had caused the tussle. I hurried outside and was surprised to see that Tiny had already made it across the gangplank and was at the center of an argument on the Equestrian ship which was already boiling over. Ignoring our earlier caution regarding flight, I gave my wings two strong flaps and hopped across to the other ship.

“Mimi nitakuona wote wamekufa!” Tiny shouted to everyone that had gathered around him. “Wakku!” The assembled zebras began to congregate into a cluster and cast threatening glances at whatever pony happened to be closest to them. Wakku’s two lieutenants took up their flanking positions near to their chieftain as the pirate leader came trotting up with Spitfire close behind.

“Report!” Spitfire’s voice cut through the commotion as Wakku briefly conversed with Tiny in their language. As I gave Spitfire a quick rundown, Tiny pointed at me and switched to Equestrian.

“Ponies make trouble!” he accused, lowering his head and looking up at his chieftain. “We get rid of them now, Maze?”

I did not want this situation to descend into the pirates hunting down a frightened mare. Seabreeze needed to be found, but not by them. Spitfire would normally have been the one to address the zebra leader, but before she could react, I stepped in front of Tiny, ignoring his stifled growls behind me, and looked Wakku in the eye. When he said nothing, I addressed him in the same tone that I used when giving reports to Spitfire out on the field.

“A member of the crew overreacted and took a swing at one of your guards. The way they’ve been treated, I’m surprised this hasn’t happened already, but we’re grateful that your guards have thus far shown restraint.” I pointed in the general direction of the cabin where the captives were being held. “A mare scrambled downstairs before we could stop her. She’s scared, but she’s not a threat to you.” I felt myself being roughly shoved aside and nearly lost my balance.

“We find her,” a voice promised. Blade stepped out from around Wakku’s body with a slight grin that I knew meant trouble.

This time it was Whiplash who spoke up from behind Spitfire. “Yeah and you’ll bring her back in pieces. If you think we’re going to let you stripes--”

“Whiplash!” Spitfire whirled around and let the name verbally crash down upon its owner, but Whiplash did not relent. He stepped up to her, but looked past the mare towards the assembled zebras.

“They’re not here to negotiate, ma’am. Look at them! A bunch of thieves and killers; that’s all you can say about this lot.”

Blade bit down on the hilt of his dirk, unsheathed it, and leveled it at Whiplash. “I shut pony up for good.” He took a single step before Wakku raised a hoof and spoke to Blade.

“No.” He turned to Scourge at his other flank. “Go and find the escapee. Bring her back alive and safe. It does us little good to be painted as murderers and savages, no matter how much we are provoked into acting as such.”

Spitfire glared daggers at Whiplash until he backed down. Then she pointed at myself and Misty. “Rapidfire and Misty, go search for that mare. Take Whiplash along with you.” She switched attention to her second-in-command and the twins. “Soarin, make sure the other ponies remain calm and try to talk some sense into that foolish stallion. Lightning Streak, I want you circling the ships in case that mare foolishly tries to take a swim. Fleetfoot will patrol the topside decks and Fire Streak, you’re going to assist Soarin and stand guard over the captives. The chieftain and I are going to have another word. Dismissed.”

We all snapped a crisp salute to our captain and marched off to our respective assignments while Scourge slunk away ahead of us to cross the gangplank and headed towards the opposite end of the pirate vessel. Once we had crossed back over to the pirate ship and were out of earshot, the questions began.

“What in Tartarus happened in there?” Whiplash hissed in my ear.

“There was a problem and now we have to fix it.”

“This is sure to get somepony hurt or worse,” he responded with a distasteful snort.

“Ease up,” Misty chimed in, “that stallion was probably just scared for both him and that mare. Her name is Seabreeze, by the way. I never did catch his name. Let’s just focus on finding her before that zebra with the whip does.” Rather than using the door that Seabreeze had used, Misty selected a hatch just in the front of the cabin and yanked it open. An open maw of warm, dim gloom awaited our little trio. Without hesitation, Misty hopped down the set of stairs and we followed into the stuffy belly of the ship.

Into Hell

Surprisingly, the ceiling over our heads was quite high once we reached the bottom of the stairs, but what struck me immediately was the smell. It was not the stench of unwashed hides or fur, or even that of rotten food. This was a tumultuous assault on the nostrils that sprang from many sources and mixed with spices, mold, and salt. The few openings to the deck above us created a playground of shadows and dim corners as we traversed the lower deck. There was disarray on a widespread and casual scale. We had descended into what was obviously the living area for most of the crew--judging by the hammocks which hung from hooks in the ceiling--but it was also awash with what I assumed was plunder.

Boxes, crates, bags, and barrels were stacked, strapped, piled and hung in every available space along the entire length, which matched that of the Equestrian trade ship. Some smelled strongly of spices while others gave off hints of fruit, sugar, or salt. Small chests were lined against one wall with a glyphmark, the zebra equivalent of cutie marks, stamped into each one of them; most likely the personal effects of the pirate crew. Most things we saw had their lids or openings locked or tied down so we could only guess what else might be hidden away. The other thing I noticed was the lack of zebras. Outside, they seemed to be everywhere, but there was not a single one of them below the main deck that we could spot and Scourge was nowhere to be seen.

Although we had each taken in our surroundings silently, what hope I had to preserve the silence was erased when Whiplash resumed the conversation from which Misty had tried to divert. “Who knows what those savages will do to her if they do find that mare first.”

Since we were back on that road again, I held up a hoof and halted our little trio. “Whiplash, I have to ask; what is with you and your attitude towards zebras?” He looked at me with an expression of shocked confusion.

“There’s an Equestrian-flagged ship that’s been taken over by criminals, their captain has been murdered, and you’re asking me why I’m offended?”

I shook my head. “Not just these zebras; I mean all of them. Ever since Canterlot started butting heads with Roam you’ve gotten more and more resentful towards all of them. Obviously these ones here are deserving of it, but what did the rest of them ever do to you?”

“Have ever spent much time around one of them?” Whiplash asked, lowering his voice to barely above a whisper. “Oh sure, a few are easy on the eyes and you’ll occasionally run across one that acts more like a pony than a zebra, but there’s a wrongness about them.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“How about the rituals, their cliquish clans, or those tattoo markings?” he continued. “They’re suspicious and strange and you can’t trust anything that comes out of their mouth. Ever hear one talk in nothing but rhymes? You can’t figure out half of what they’re actually trying to say. I won’t even bother going into all their alchemy hoodoo and star prophecies.”

“In other words you’re a racist,” Misty deadpanned as she moved past him and started down the stairs into the next deck below us.

I could almost hear Whiplash’s teeth grinding as I followed after Misty. “Call it what you want, but I’m not going to end up like those that turned a blind eye to all the evidence. Zebras can’t be trusted, period.”

Together we descended into the third deck of the ship and walked into a different world. The deck above us had been dim but partially lit by natural sunlight. That was not the case on this deck. There was no light here except the orange glow cast by swaying magical lanterns which were hung at uneven intervals. We were definitely in the main cargo hold now, as the various crates and barrels which had been stacked or lashed down often reached all the way to the ceiling. The temperature was noticeably lower too. Waves lapping at the hull could still be heard but they were now over our heads instead of just below them. The deck beneath our hooves felt dry but the smell of mildew hung in the air; on all sides I could feel a pressure from the knowledge that an entire ocean was waiting to rush in should it find any significant hole in the hull.

The chaos that had reigned in the crew’s living space above was more evident here in the hold. From spending a little time around airships I knew about the concept of ballast, so it seemed reasonable that an oceangoing vessel would also want more weight along the bottom to help with overall stability. Everything appeared to be securely lashed down or tied off, but many of the containers had coverings askew or were simply left open. As we crept through the hold, I took notice of boxes filled with heavy, unmarked bags and crates of miscellaneous items that, upon second glance, appeared to be a mix of personal effects, dinnerware, bits of jewelry, and clothing.

“Probably the crew’s stolen property,” Whiplash mumbled as he passed the heaped crate. “Stupid stripes.”

We worked from one end to the other slowly, checking each shadow and corner offered by the maze of cargo containers. As we approached the section just aft of the stairs that brought us down, I thought I heard a low humming sound coming from a stash of open barrels. Creeping over to them, I found a trio of barrels strapped to several wooden cases whose lids had been wrenched off.

On the sides of the cases were markings that I recognized as belonging to Equestrian industrial importers. They had been all over the newspapers talking about coal supplies from Zebrica and gem shipments as a payment. Inside the cases were black rocks. Lot of them. There was a grimy dust leaking out of the bottom of the cases and many other cases and crates nearby also had similar piles of black dust around their bases as well. I tapped a few of the pieces in the first case and sniffed it.

“Coal,” I said aloud to no one in particular. I imagined that the other cases held coal as well and somewhere down here we would find boxes of gems as well. I picked up one of the pieces of coal and held it up to the lantern. It reflected the light clearly across several flat facets but was otherwise just another lump of coal. “So they’re stealing their own coal as well as our gem payments.” Then I heard the hum again and looked over at the open barrels.

Spear-like points jutted upwards out of the interior and seemed to claw at the air. I tilted the lantern and jagged pieces of metal winked purple hues back at me. The barrels were packed full of uneven shards and warped lengths of metal. I could not be certain, but the low humming seemed to come from somewhere around the barrels. When I moved closer to investigate, the sound faded until I could hear it no longer. Annoyed at having gotten distracted, I rejoined Misty and Whiplash. We shuffled off further towards the aft and had only gone a few steps when Misty hoisted a wing up and halted.

“Stop.” She tilted her head to the left. “Anypony else hear that?”

I strained to listen for whatever it was she had heard, but only the creaking of the hull, lapping of waves on the outside and the distinct thump of hooves on the decks above reached my ears. Even the odd hum had stopped entirely. Then, very softly, I heard someone stifle a sneeze. Whiplash opened his mouth, but I forestalled him with a wing. We waited.

“Over there,” I said, pointing to our left where, against the hull, a tall stack of wooden crates were haphazardly secured. The pile almost reached the ceiling and ropes criss-crossed over the outward-facing sides, lashing them together. One of the containers on the second level of the stack looked as though it had been shoved aside just enough for a trim pony to squeeze through. As a team, we carefully approached the crates. Hooves were gingerly placed on the deck and we swayed with the rocking of the ship to keep our balance. We fanned out to cover all three sides of the pile as Misty carefully climbed up to peer over the box that had been moved aside.

I heard a gasp and then a small, feminine voice whispered fiercely, “Shhhhh! Not so loud.” Three sets of collectively held breaths were released. Whiplash and I joined Misty and closed in around the opening. Wedged in between the cargo, lying back as far from us as she could get, was the runaway mare. Her eyes were wide and I could see her sides rapidly heaving. She was gripping part of her mane in her teeth.

“Easy now,” Misty cooed. She casually leaned against the crate which had been moved aside. “Seabreeze, right? It’s going to be okay. We’re here to help you and your friends.”

“They threatened to hurt us if anyone tried to fly away or use magic,” she whispered harshly, wiping tears from her eyes and letting her mane fall from her mouth. “My sweet coltfriend, Golden Ray, distracted those pirates so I could get away, but I can’t swim. And I don’t want them to find me.” She sniffed. “Please. I don’t want to go back.”

I knew we had to coax this mare out of her hiding place and get her to rejoin the rest of the pony crew if we were going to have any chance in mollifying the zebras into a peaceful solution. “We can’t solve this with the zebras riled up, and that means bringing you back as a show of trust,” I explained.

“Trust? Are you joking?” Seabreeze’s voice jumped up in pitch. “You can’t trust those brutes.”

Misty moved to crouch near the opening that the mare had made, but did not advance any further in her direction. “We’re not going to let them hurt you or anypony else. The Princesses sent us here to handle the situation peacefully.”

“Try telling that to our captain,” Seabreeze muttered.

Whiplash rolled his eyes. “Could you can the sarcasm for a moment and help us out?” He sighed. “You put us all in a worse position by running off.”

“Okay. Okay.” We all moved back as Seabreeze poked her head out from around the crates. “If you really think it’ll help?” she asked quietly. Myself and Misty nodded an agreement. Whiplash abstained. “Just, promise me nopony else is going to get hurt. I’m only going to go back if...” Seabreeze’s eyes widened. “Look out!”

We turned as a unit to find a zebra standing right behind us and instinctively dropped into a lowered stance. Whiplash was the first to react, hoping off the pile of crates and back down into the deck.

“Who are you?” he demanded. “You weren’t with the others. What are you doing, skulking around down here?”

This zebra was different. Physically, I could see that he bore many more tattoos than the other zebras, most of them extending from his legs all the way up to his neck and face where they terminated in elaborate whorls. As the lanterns swayed with the rocking of the ship the patterns of his tattoos appeared to shift and flow with an unsettling liquidity, only to have that movement cease if I stared at one pattern for more than a second. His clothing consisted of a simple cloak and hood which were presently pulled aside. Beneath that he wore a functional manner of barding similar to the other pirates but I could see no weapons. Most startling was what I could see of his glyphmark--he had none. Or rather, where one must have once been there was as twisted knot of scar tissue and stunted hair. His glyphmark had been burned off.

“Chieftain wants that pony,” he stated bluntly, pointing at the box behind which sat Seabreeze. “Grab pony and come.” The zebra pushed Whiplash in the direction of the stairs we used to descend into the hold, but Whiplash slapped the zebra’s leg away.

“Don’t you get hoofy with me, stripe,” he warned, his tail lashing wildly from side to side. “Now, I want to know why you weren’t with the others up on deck when we arrived?”

The zebra refused to answer. “Pony comes now or I take her.” Seabreeze peered over the top of the box. He looked up at Seabreeze and the mare shriveled under his gaze, ducking back down into her hiding place.

“Don’t let them hurt me,” she squeaked, scooting back as far as the space available would allow.

The zebra made to move in towards the stack. “Out of my way.”

“Back off.” Whiplash snarled, his teeth showing as he lifted his wings and widened his stance, blocking the zebra’s path.

To his credit, the zebra backed up a step and did not advance further. “Stupid ponies.”

I could see that the situation was sitting on a very precarious edge, but it was Misty who took charge. “We all need to calm down. What’s your name?” she tried.

There was something else that felt… off about this zebra. I could not place what it was exactly that did not feel right, but he almost seemed to radiate a presence that felt different from the others. Even the environment around us seemed to rebel at his existence. The air around us felt heavy and prickly, like a dense wave of hot wind but without the heat. My hide twitched and I thought I felt something crawling through my mane. I suppressed the urge to scratch at the base of my neck when I realized that the tickling sensation was coming from my hairs as they stood on end.

The zebra had not yet answered and in the silence I thought I heard something, a very faint humming sound coming from somewhere near the zebra himself. It was very difficult to pick out, but I was certain this sound was higher in pitch than the one I heard minutes ago, but it seemed to rise and fall in time with my own breathing. I kept my head still while scanning with my eyes for a source and when I could not find anything obvious, I met the pirate’s eyes for the first time. They too had a wrongness about them. They were the color of an old bruise, and when they met my own eyes I felt as though the zebra was looking through me instead of at me.

“Pony does not need to know me,” was his curt response. “Other zebras not need to know me. Down here is my place. Others leave me alone. They are afraid.” His voice dropped to a growl. “Ponies should be afraid.”

“It’s okay. I just want to know what I should call you instead of ‘zebra’.” Misty stood tall and kept her hooves in plain view. She even offered a tiny smile. “I’m Misty Fly.”

The zebra looked at Misty for a moment and opened his mouth, but quickly shut it tight. I noticed his eyes unfocus briefly and I thought I saw them dart towards the barrels of metal shards that sat on the deck directly behind us. He shook his head, his eyes refocusing, and grimaced. “Stop talking. Ponies only good for work and ransom.” He made his point by stomping on the deck and added, “Move now. I take mare with me.”

Misty shook her head slowly. “Not until you calm down. If you give me your word that you will not hurt her, then we can all go together.”

“You ask for my word? I give no word. Not to you!” At that moment, the two ships bumped against each other and the pirate vessel rocked to one side. Misty, Whiplash, and myself all twisted to keep our balance but the zebra did not. From the corner of my eye I saw him rear back onto his hind legs, perfectly balanced, and leap onto the stack where Misty and I wobbled. He barely made a sound when he landed. Then he simultaneously reached past him towards Seabreeze and kicked out with a hind leg into Misty’s side. I shifted my weight to knock his reaching hoof away. That was when I saw Misty start to fall.

Everything around me suddenly felt like it had been drenched in cold syrup. The creaking of the hull faded away and even the dust motes hung suspended in the air as the world fought to process what was happening. Slowly, painfully slowly, I watched as Misty slipped, stumbled, and careened to the side, falling over her hooves as the force of the zebra’s impact sent her into the array of uncovered barrels I had noticed earlier during our search. The barrels which were tightly packed with jagged shreds of the shiny, purple-hued metal shards; their sharp tips and edges reaching into the open air towards Misty’s falling body.

There was a soft sound, like an overripe piece of fruit being torn in half. Then came the screaming. Everything that had just felt as though it were suspended in time suddenly accelerated into a blurred state of motion. Misty was wailing, Seabreeze was adding her own cries to the mix, and I found myself on the deck with Misty. The shards had pierced her back and wings in several places and one looked as though it would have punched clear through her chest had the barrel not fallen over with her, spreading the metal fragments across the deck floor. They had penetrated deeply and blood was spilling from the wounds quickly. Very quickly.

I jabbed a wing at Whiplash. “Go check if any of the crew have any medical training. Healing spells. Anything!” I spared a glance around to see where the zebra that had shoved Misty had gotten to but there was not a single stripe to be seen. He had vanished. Whiplash also vanished, zooming up the stairs we had descended earlier as fast as his legs would carry him. I tore pieces of my uniform off with my teeth and pressed them against Misty’s gushing wounds, trying to stem the flow of blood without shifting the protruding shards. I was practically lying across her as I held her as best as I could without letting up on the pressure. That was all they really taught us in training. It did not feel like enough. There was so much blood.

“Hang in there, Misty,” I kept saying to her. “You’re going to be okay.” She had ceased her screams and either did not or could not reply with anything more than a gasping whimper. Her body was shaking and I could not tell if it was her that was gradually growing colder or if it was the spreading pool of cooling blood that was collecting around us. Someone was hyperventilating and I assumed it was coming from Seabreeze, but I could not spare the mare any of my attention. Over the sounds I heard rapidly approaching hooves and looked up to see Spitfire and Whiplash stumbling down the stairs.

Spitfire vaulted over the crates and barrels, landing in Misty’s blood. She balked at the sight for only a second and then helped me hold the makeshift bandages steady. “What happened?” she demanded.

I opened my mouth and began. “It was--”

Whiplash cut me off. “One of the zebras.”

“What?” Spitfire gasped. I saw her visage shift from worried shock to hard stone. “Explain.”

“There was a pirate down here,” Whiplash quickly answered. “A strange one. It was one we didn’t see up on deck. He was acting really suspicious, so Misty asked him some questions and he tried to take Seabreeze there back by force. He intentionally--”

I turned my attention to my stricken teammate as Misty coughed up a frothy mix of blood and saliva, missing most of Whiplash’s explanation. I held her steady until the fit subsided and then returned my attention to the exchange.

“--then she was screaming and there was blood and the zebra disappeared and… and…” Whiplash looked down at his hooves. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Whiplash,” Spitfire offered. “We’ll handle the zebras just as soon as--”

Misty Fly cried out and began to hyperventilate. Her body shook forcefully and her wings flailed. Spitfire and I held onto her as Misty’s hooves reached out and hooked around our own, holding firmly but growing more slack with each tremor.

“Misty?” Spitfire gasped as a violent spasm shook Misty’s body. Then she fell limp in our hooves. “No, no, no. Come on, girl, wake up!” She bent low and listened for breathing. Spitfire’s face screwed up in panic. “Wake up! You can’t...”

More hooves came tumbling down the stairs and Soarin appeared, his chest rising and falling rapidly. I looked to the team’s second, hoping he had found somepony or something to help. “Soarin?”

Soarin shook his head. “No doctors. They’re just traders with a few first aid kits, not even any training better than ours.” He came around the pile of crates that separated us from the stairs leading upwards. “Nothing that can--” he looked down at Spitfire and me, Misty’s still form in our hooves, “--no.”

There were no tears; I did not know what to feel. I simply held the scrap of fabric against the wound and felt the blood pooling around my hooves. I stared at the blue cloth which had turned dark purple with Misty’s life. Her body twitched slightly once, twice, and then stopped. No parting words. No dramatic final sigh. She was just… dead .

“Why?” I dimly heard Soarin ask. My own heartbeat was pounding in my ears. It was a simple question, but I had no answer. “Why would they do something like this?” There was a sound like somepony sitting back heavily upon their haunches. “W-we came to settle this peacefully.” We did. We came with the best of intentions.

I turned my head and found Spitfire frozen in place, but I could see that it was not with grief or shock. She was trembling. The quakes were running from her mane all the way down to her hooves. I had seen this before. Spitfire was barely holding back her fury.

She rose slowly, Misty’s blood staining her uniform as well as my own. “Rapidfire, you and Whiplash head back over to the other ships and sweep their hold. Find out if there are any more pirates hiding down there too. Soarin, have Lightning Streak join Fire Streak with the captives in case the pirates make a move against the crew. Tell them they have permission to do whatever they have to do to keep those ponies safe. I’ll...” She faltered and swallowed heavily. “I’ll take Misty out of here.”

“What’s the plan?” Soarin asked in a daze. A numbness had spread through my chest and I could not seem to mentally grasp hold of any thought for more than a brief time.

“We’re going to herd up a cloud and make sure Misty is out of reach of the zebras. We’ll...tend to her later. Then we’re going to have an unfriendly chat with the chief.”

Soarin nodded and dashed up the stairs. Spitfire knelt and gingerly scooped Misty’s body on her back. I shook myself and moved to help, but Spitfire just glanced my way and shook her head. I backed off respectfully and Spitfire carefully carried the still-warm body away. As soon as both of them had disappeared from sight, Whiplash nudged me with a wing.

“Come on. We need to find Misty’s killer before he hurts somepony else.”

The pounding in my ears and the numbness of shock quickly shed from my mind like raindrops from our own wings. “What did you say?”

“Misty’s killer,” he growled back. “We’re going to find that freak and make him pay for what he did to Misty.”

It took only moments to process what he said and brought up an anger that built with each passing second. I threw my shoulder into Whiplash hard enough to send him stumbling back into the bulkhead of the ship. “Are you insane? You told Spitfire that zebra killed Misty on purpose?”

Whiplash bared his teeth at me before regaining his balance and straightening his uniform. “He did kill her. Maybe not directly, but it was his fault. It was the fault of all of them.” He shook his head, like he was trying to clear clogged water out of his ears. “You saw the look in his eyes, in all of their eyes; you know as well as I do what they’re each willing to do to the hostages.”

He advanced on me and although I did not back down, what I saw in his eyes reminded me of what I had seen in the eyes of that tattooed zebra only minutes ago. It was the same loathing; a kind that I did not think was possible for ponies to feel or express.

“They don’t care about anything or anyone except themselves. If one of them hadn’t killed one of us sooner then it would have happened later. Somepony was bound to die here today. I knew that the moment those striped monsters opened their mouths.”

I started to pace, the fog in my mind clearing as it raced. “But it was an accident! Spitfire might do something rash; you know how she can get when she’s upset when one of the team is involved.”

Whiplash lowered his voice and looked around the hold. “So what? Blaming the zebras works out for everyone.” This was wrong. Everything about this situation, about this day, was wrong. I knew Whiplash abhorred zebras in general. I had to admit that I did not wholly trust them myself, but the tone Whiplash used set my spine to prickling. He spoke with a voice that was bereft of that pastel spark that ponies have been known for throughout the world. It felt hostile and it should have felt foreign too, but...

I shook my head to clear away the cloying thoughts and refocused on the words coming from Whiplash. More and more, it seemed, ponies around me spoke with words of enmity and hatred. To see and hear such things from dragons or even griffins was not unheard. But ponykind? To hear those qualities coming from the mouth of a teammate made my ears feel as though they were stopped up, like when the pressure changes during a steep climb or descent.

“What sense does that make?” I hissed back in response.

“Think about it, Rapidfire. Misty can either be remembered as a hero or a tragic victim. She’ll get all sorts of posthumous medals, we’ll take care of the pirates, and the hostages can go home. Everypony wins.”

I couldn’t bring myself to speak her name any louder than a whisper. “Except Misty.”

Whiplash was unfazed. “Are you going to keep quiet so we can move on or not?”

It was wrong. It was dishonest. We had lost a teammate and a friend; someone who had only just been in my own hooves. Whiplash was asking me to gloss over something which could change the perception of the whole event. I wanted to kick the wall. I wanted to knock the teeth out of the tattooed zebra’s face. I wanted Misty to stand up and tell us she was okay. One of those wishes was not going to come true today.

But was Whiplash right? Did that zebra intend for Misty to fall on those shards? They were all pirates. They had taken a ship and its crew hostage. At least one member, the captain, had supposedly been killed because he openly resisted. The thoughts and questions were bouncing around in my head. None of the other other crew members had been seriously injured. If I believed Wakku’s words then there was some assurance that there would not be any more crew deaths. Except I did not know what the zebras wanted out of this situation. Whatever Spitfire and Wakku had talked about was a mystery to me. I did not know what to believe. For all I knew, the crew and ship were being used as bait. This whole situation might be a stage set up to create some kind of spectacle out of us ponies.

Maybe Whiplash had a point, but maybe not. He spoke with such conviction but I could not get over that feeling. What I felt when he whispered to me was just too similar to how that tattooed zebra made me feel only minutes ago. I just did not know what was truth and what was not, but there was one thing I could do.

I leaned in close to Whiplash. “You and I are going to Spitfire right now and give her all the details.” I made sure to get right up in Whiplash’s face and, to my satisfaction, he flinched away. I pulled him back in. “Facts only. No assumptions.”

He said nothing for a few heartbeats and then breathed. “Sure.”

At that moment Seabreeze crawled out from behind the crates and I saw her eyes tremble at the sight of us arguing. She glanced around the hold. “Are they all gone? I covered my ears and hid when that zebra kicked Misty and then I just heard a bunch of voices and running and I just couldn’t bear to come out till it quieted down.” She craned her head up and over the boxes until her eyes found the blood on my uniform. She stopped. “What happened to Misty Fly?”

“She’s...” I had to swallow the sudden lump in my throat before I could continue. “She’s dead.”

What color Seabreeze had remaining drained from her face as her ears drooped. She shut her eyes tightly. “S-she’s...dead? Oh--” Seabreeze shed the tears for Misty that the rest of us could not afford.

I thanked the grieving mare for her empathy the only way I could, by placing a hoof on her shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. “It wasn’t your fault. Come here.” I barely tugged at her leg before Seabreeze lurched into my side and released the pent up stress in a choking sob. Neither of us seemed to feel the blood that clung to my uniform. “Shh. It’s going to be okay.”

Tears and mucus mingled on my shoulder, but that made no difference. I continued talking as she let it all run out of her system. “Listen, we can’t leave you here alone. If we’re worried about you as well as your friends upstairs then we can’t stay focused on getting everypony out of here safely. You can help us by coming back with Whiplash and me. Will you do that?”

I pulled away from the embrace, helped her wipe her eyes free of tears, and turned her to face me. “Will you help the Wonderbolts?”

“O-okay,” she sniffled. “I’m sorry.”

“What was that?” Whiplash abruptly asked. I refocused my hearing and heard muffled shouting filtering down from the upper decks as several rapid thumps vibrated the wooden planks. More noise came from somewhere off the pirate ship. The Equestrian vessel, I assumed. Whiplash turned about, trying to determine where precisely the commotion was coming from above decks, as I gently guided Seabreeze back into the space she had been hiding.

“Change of plans,” I told her and gave her a quick pat on the shoulder, hoping it felt at least minimally comforting. “Stay down and don’t make a sound. We’ll come get you when we’re sure it’s safe.” Seabreeze’s eyes darted across the planks above us, following every thump, thud, and raised voice. I could see her body trembling and her knees beginning to buckle. Whiplash moved away towards a ladderwell that led upwards and I reached back to guide Seabreeze’s gaze back to my own. Our eyes locked.

“You’re going to be okay,” I promised. Her head barely moved but she gave me a slight nod.

“Rapidfire!”

I looked up to see Whiplash ascending the stairs and gave Seabreeze one more shoulder squeeze before I vaulted over a crate and followed behind him. We climbed up the three decks as quickly as the steep angle would allow us and had almost reached the main weatherdeck when we heard several screams. Pony screams. There was not going to be time to talk to Spitfire.

Whiplash glanced back at me, a mixture of alarm and anger swirling within his eyes. I imagined my own must have looked the same. I shoved myself against his flank. “Go!” I yelled and together we burst out into the middle of...

~~*~~

“Chaos,” Rapidfire breathed. “Both of the main decks outside were chaos. I don’t have another way to describe what it was like when we emerged from below. A lot of what happened is a blur of stripes and colors and blood and screams. Yells coming from my fellow Wonderbolts. I’m sure what I was hearing from the zebras were curses or threats at first; later they sounded more desperate. Like ours. The captives stayed put in the cabin. At least they were smart enough to keep their heads down and stay out of the way. No more heroics.”

Rapidfire rubbed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. “I remember being scared and angry and frustrated and terrified. Two of the zebras kept making a move for the civilians, but Spitfire and Soarin were always there to drive them back. I remember bits and pieces, mostly in sudden flashes of clarity, but a lot of the fight was simply a struggle for survival. You don’t retain too much from moments like that except in snatched seconds between one fight and the next.”

He shut his eyes. “Out of everything that happened, what remained the clearest of all was Spitfire. She’s always been the anchor of the team; our most feared nemesis and our greatest ally. Without her the Wonderbolts would never have risen above a simple flight demonstration team.”

“What about Rainbow Dash?” Reggie asked.

Rapidfire’s eyes opened and he looked pointedly at the unicorn across from him. “Most dangerous mare alive, except maybe for Princess Luna, but Dash wasn’t with the Wonderbolts until the team became part of the Skyguard initiative. When she did take over, what she lacked in experience was made up for with skill and tenacity, but talent doesn’t account for much without the brains to use it properly.”

Reggie blinked. “I think the Shadowbolts’ current record might contradict your opinion of her.”

“Current record,” the pegasus snorted. “They only had style in the early days and style alone only makes for a good-looking corpse.” He coughed into a hoof before continuing.

“As I was saying, Dash might be dangerous, but Spitfire was deadly. Everywhere I looked there was this racing flash of orange and yellow. She was everywhere. No taunting, no boasting, no dramatics; just barked orders and precise movement. Fire Streak and Lightning Streak couldn’t take to the skies for long without giving the zebras an opening to get to the captives, so they were fighting at a disadvantage. Ground combat was never something we practiced much. Flight was our best weapon against the zebras back in those days--back before they invented those weird talismans. Even with flight, the pirates might have driven us off, or worse, if it hadn’t been for her. At first we fought to diffuse the situation with non-lethal tactics, disabling strikes and such, but that wasn’t possible after the first casualty.”

“You mean the second one?”

“Misty was an accident,” Rapidfire growled back. “I don’t care what the report says. I care even less about whatever the government accepts as a casualty. She wasn’t a real victim of the attack that happened later on.” He pointed a hoof at Reggie. “Now Fleetfoot, that was a deliberate murder. You don’t snap somepony’s neck around until they can look down at their own spine by accident.”

Reggie took a small sip of his drink. It was warm. “The news articles never mentioned how the casualties died.”

Rapidfire frowned deeply and traced out the shape of a figure eight on the table. One of his rear hooves tapped against the floor in time with his hoof reaching the top and bottom of the figure. He stopped and looked up at Reggie through eyes glazed over by the fog of of the past.

“You ever held a dead body, kid?” Reggie shook his head. “Ever even seen death up close?”

“I’ve been to a few funerals. Open casket, even.”

Rapidfire resumed his tapping and tracing as he spoke. “Most death is natural. We all have to go once our time is up, and the natural ones are clean enough not to leave a stain in your heart. But the first time you see death that’s been caused by someone--a death that’s messy and unnatural--it sticks with you forever.”

“Are you okay talking about it?” Reggie reached out to Rapidfire with a sympathetic hoof but the pegasus snatched his own hoof away. His eyes refocused sharply on the unicorn.

“Fire Streak and Lightning Streak were the two closest to us when we rushed out of that hatch on the pirate ship. They had been sent to watch over the captives and were already engaged with Tiny. I saw Fleetfoot and Soarin take off and start hammering every striped body that came out into the open where they could get a good hit and run strike. Scourge and Blade appeared from somewhere and made to assist Tiny against the twins. As soon as Whiplash saw Blade, he went straight for him. That left Scourge and me to square off. I knew we were outnumbered but I could only spare an occasional glance to check on everypony else; fighting a zebra trained in close quarters is no easy business. If it weren’t for flight, I don’t think I could have taken him.” Rapidfire rolled his right shoulder and winced at the crackle of tendons.

“As it was, he took that from me before he died. Did you know the sound of a whip crack is the tip breaking the sound barrier? My wing figured that one out. During the fight I heard a lot of screaming and shouting in both Equestrian and Zebric, but I actually saw very little of it except for what was happening near me. Well, that and Spitfire. When she wasn’t trading blows with Wakku, she was everywhere at once in a blur of fire and fury. After Scourge went down from a four-hooved dive bomb to the skull, I helped Soarin from the decks of the ships however I could. Fleetfoot… well, like I said, necks aren’t supposed to twist around that far. At some point, before he went down, Tiny managed to throw off Fire Streak long enough to stomp Lightning Streak’s chest into pulp. And then there was Fire Streak.”

Rapidfire cleared his throat and shuddered. “I can’t tell you what that weird tattooed freak did to Fire Streak because I don’t really know what happened. None of us saw him until he was behind Fire Streak. There was a purple flash and...” Rapidfire swallowed hard. “Hide and bones. Nothing else. Like a dried piece of fruit except, it was my teammate. My friend.” He clenched his eyes shut. “I went after the zebra but I couldn’t find him. I couldn’t--” The aging pegasus just stopped talking and took deep breaths for almost a full minute.

“I’d say you were all lucky not to have come out of that worse off,” Reggie offered. “There was only one serious civilian injury during the fight, right?”

“Yeah.” Rapidfire opened his eyes. “We didn’t lose a single civilian during the fight that day.” He took a long swallow from his drink. “Killed almost every one of the pirates too. Wish we’d gotten there a couple of days sooner. We might have saved the captain.”

“Almost? Do you mean that you took prisoners and that was excluded from the public report too?”

Rapidfire shook his head slowly. “No prisoners. You have to understand that we didn’t really understand the zebras back then like we do now. Even in those days they had tricks up their stripes and codes of honor we knew nothing about.” He tilted his neck and cracked loose a few stiff joints. “I didn’t see him jump overboard, but I watched one of the pirates swim out far from both ships and just submerge himself. He never came back up. That tattooed one never showed up either. He just disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” Reggie arched his brows.

“Searched both ships top to bottom, bow to stern. Nothing, not even any personal belongings that we could find. It was like he never existed.”

Reggie shuddered slightly in spite of the room’s warmth. “That’s… a little disturbing. What happened after the fight was over?”

The Rest is History

All through the night we worked to move the stolen cargo back onboard. There was more than just the pilfered cargo from the Equestrian ship. Goods and trinkets from other nations, some even bearing the glyphmarks of zebra tribes, were stashed and mixed in with our own. We took those too with the intent of returning them to the rightful owners. Those of us who were able had helped out throughout the night. My wing bothered me greatly. I could feel the torn ligaments and cracked bones with every movement, but watching the pony crew pushing past their own fatigue and pain was anesthetic enough. I had grabbed a mouthful of crate handle and contributed to the efforts. Until, that is, we got the barrels of metal shards.

I thought I could be an example of Wonderbolt discipline and resolve, handling the very thing that had taken the life of a teammate only hours before. There was something inside me urging me onward. It was pushing me to confront the murky sensations I felt when I neared those shards covered in Misty’s blood. I had stood there, staring at the blood on the deck, still wet in the damp hold, and marshalling my strength. With careful motions I swept the spilled, bloody shards back into their barrels. I had then dragged them as far as the stairs leading to the next deck above when a crew member, one of the unicorns with pale blue fur and bloodshot eyes, came down the steps.

He lurched forward and nearly stumbled into the barrels, hurriedly pushing me aside. “Don’t touch those!” He hovered over the top of the shards like a mother hen protecting her chicks.

I stepped back away from the barrels. “Sorry. I was only trying to lend a hoof.”

The unicorn rubbed his eyes and massaged his temples. “No, no. Sorry about that.” He stepped to the side of the barrels and gingerly placed a hoof on the one of the pieces of warped metal. “These are very important samples from a mining operation. They were found alongside a coal vein in this pure state. We’re delivering them to metallurgists and researchers at Canterlot working under somepony named Midnight Shower.” The unicorn looked at the metal again and I thought I saw his eyes unfocus slightly. “To be honest, I think the pirates wanted these almost as much as the gems we’re carrying. It is quite remarkable.”

Despite his words, I could not help but focus on the darker tips that still held Misty’s blood. “Go ahead,” I said. The less I had to look at those sharp tips, their points seeming to claw at the air in search of another victim, the better off I would feel. After that, I spent the remainder of the night just staying out of the way.

The sun was beginning to come up over the horizon by the time the crew of the trade ship was finally able to raise the anchors and get the ship underway, heading back towards home. We left the pirate vessel empty and at anchor. It was a problem for the authorities in Roam now. I had to squint against the glare off the water as the vessel turned its bow towards Equestria and plowed ahead through the calm seas. We were going home and in that moment it felt like Celestia herself was opening her wings to embrace us all and welcome home her little ponies. It was cruel, that moment of peace and warmth, because the cold reality came rushing over me like an icy ocean breeze when I heard somepony approaching me from behind.

“Spitfire wants to talk to all of us,” the voice said, barely a whisper.

It was Whiplash. When I turned from the painfully beautiful sight ahead of me to face the grim truth behind me, he would not even meet my eyes. That was the moment when the first tear crawled its way down my cheek. Just one. It was all I could spare because what mental composure I had left in me was caught up in resisting the heat within my veins that demanded Whiplash be held responsible.

As I made my way aft to where Spitfire was, my thoughts raced. This was his fault, right? He told Spitfire his own version of the truth and there had not been time to let her know there was more to the story. I was going to tell her. I had not heard Whiplash when he first told her that Misty’s death was intentional--that it was a murder and not an accident. I wanted justice. I wanted Misty Fly and the others alive and well. Most of all I wanted to forget the bodies.

I wanted to forget the striped ones whose dead meat we had shoved into emptied burlap sacks and boxes which would likely be carried back to Roam later on as an offering of evidence against the predators of the pirates. Mostly, I wanted to forget those of our own which I knew had been laid out upon the aft deck I was slowly approaching. Moments later I rounded the corner leading to the stern weatherdeck and the fire in me sputtered to cool embers.

Spitfire sat alone, her uniform and flight goggles discarded in a heap stained with spatters that had dried to a brownish-red. She was not slumped over weeping, or wracked with sobs of guilt or remorse. Neither was she fuming with righteous anger or pacing in indignation. She sat quietly, her posture no different from the days spent instructing flight cadets, with four bodies that lay under pieces of an Equestrian flag that had been found amid the pilfered items. Looking up at the mast, I noticed that the part where a flag normally flew also held a similar scrap that was fluttering in the strengthening breeze. I shivered when I left the light of the rising sun and crept into a shrinking but still substantial shadow created by the aft cabin. Soarin appeared from around the opposite corner and nodded once to myself and Whiplash.

Without turning her head Spitfire pointed to the deck behind her and said one word, “Sit.”

We obeyed without question or hesitation, taking up a flanking position on the teak planks. For several minutes she did not speak again or make any other movements. I glanced at the ponies to my left and right.

Whiplash looked out to sea with the expression of a pony that had seen something terrible; something ponies should never have to witness. His color was pallid. Soarin was faring worse. His eyes were rimmed in red from the shedding of tears and he looked a sickly shade of green. I did not know exactly what to feel. Sorrow. Rage. Guilt. I guess they were all there in a tumbling mix in the pit of my stomach and the silence that reigned only served to sour the mix further with each passing minute. Not even the sharp thudding pain of the injuries I sustained in the fight could bring sufficient distraction to keep my mind from traveling to dark places.

“You will say nothing until I submit my report when we get home. After that you will echo my version and you will not deviate from that report. Is that clear?” Spitfire’s voice came out strong and clear. I had expected grief. I had expected anger. I had not expected the complete lack of any emotion at all. It was unsettling.

I muttered an affirmative, but Whiplash spoke up, “What are you going to tell everyone?”

Spitfire whirled around and for an instant I thought she was going to leap at Whiplash’s throat. Her voice was devoid of emotion but her eyes blazed with the light of the fiery sunset.

“Were my orders unclear, Lieutenant?” she demanded. The contradiction between her eyes and her voice was disconcerting.

Whiplash ducked his head in submission. “No, ma’am.”

“I will tell you the details that you will need to know when I am ready.” Spitfire then cast a slightly cooler gaze at her second in command. “Soarin, I’ll need your help with some parts.”

He nodded weakly.

I could not let her order stand. I had to know what was going on in her head. I wanted to tell her the truth. “Ma’am?”

“Not a word,” she barked. “Or you can spend your time on this boat as its coal passer.” I snapped my mouth shut but my mind began to mirror the somersaults that my stomach was doing. I wanted to say something; to set straight what had been said in the hold of the pirate ship. But now? I did not know if she would listen to me. It certainly would not change what had already happened. If Spitfire told our superiors back home that the fight was started because of an accident, would it be any different from her telling them it had been intentional? They were pirates, and they were zebra pirates. Regardless of the truth, I doubted what I had to say would make a difference to the future. So I did as I was ordered and stayed silent.

Soarin cleared his throat to come to my rescue. “Take it easy, Spitfire. W-we… today didn’t go like we planned. A lot went wrong. It’s not Rapidfire’s fault, or anypony else’s. The zebras did this; they did it to the hostages, to us, and to themselves. There was nothing more that we could have done.”

If Spitfire accepted that explanation, she did not say anything. She only turned away from the three of us to go back to staring at the bodies of Misty Fly, Fleetfoot, Lightning Streak, and Fire Streak. “Try asking them if they think we couldn’t have done better.”

I jumped when I felt a hoof lightly jab me in the side. Whirling about, I came face to face with a young mare whose cheeks were bright with tears. One of the hostages.

“Sorry,” she squeaked. “I just wanted to let you all know that my sister works for a newspaper in Manehattan and I plan on telling her everything you all did for us today. She’ll make all of you heroes and let everyone back home know about your sacrifices.”

I could not correct that mare; could not tell her that our sacrifices were caused by our own failures. There was a small voice in my head trying to tell me that I was not to blame. I had not lied, after all. Whiplash had been the one that painted that mysterious zebra, and all zebras, as having murderous intent. But I couldn’t help but feel, in that moment, that somehow I held equal responsibility by not forcing the issue with Spitfire. A lie of omission is still a lie. I had let the matter stand without speaking up and allowed the zebras to take the blame.

She looked at us, at me, with a measure of reverence that I knew I did not deserve. Yet I could not stand the thought of breaking her heart with the truth. So I said, “Thank you.”

She continued, “I’ve heard ponies whispering the word ‘war’ a few times, but once word gets out about what the zebras did here today, everything about this head-butting between Canterlot and Roam will change. You’ll see; this has to change everyone’s mind. Everything will be just fine.”

“No, I’m afraid that this is just the beginning.” We turned to look at Spitfire and found her standing at the railing, looking not at the bodies of our friends, but at the final glimpses of the pirate ship as it slid over the horizon and disappeared from view. “Ponies back home will rally against the zebras. The zebras will rally against us. Eventually, it’ll head down one path.” She shook her head slowly. “After Nightmare Moon. After Discord. After a thousand years of peace. I’m sure of it. Just like that old pre-Equestrian general, Ulysses Granite, said: nations, like individuals, are punished for their transgressions.” I heard her stifle a sniffle.

“War.” Her body heaved with a sigh that spoke more than her words. “I wish I could say with certainty that we've learned from the past, but I'm afraid that some things will never change.”

~~*~~

Other than Frank, only Rapidfire and Reggie were still at the bar when Rapidfire stopped talking and finished his final remaining mug of cider. “And that was it.” He sighed, closing his eyes and visibly drooping in his chair. “The hostages were returned home and the ship was left for the zebras to reclaim after the cargo was removed. We buried our dead with full honors and soon afterwards the Equestrian Skyguard was formed. All Equestrian naval vessels and even some merchants started arming themselves. The rest you know.” Even as Reggie struggled to respond, the bartender appeared silently and swept the empty mugs from the table before returning to straightening the bottles behind his counter. The unicorn glanced down at the pad of paper and the pen he had brought for the occasion and blanched. It was blank.

Rapidfire opened his eyes and glanced down at the empty pad. “I’m going to stuff you into one of Frank’s bottles and sell you as a ‘special reserve’ vintage if you ask me to repeat myself.”

“I… but… is it true?” Reggie sputtered.

“Is what true?”

Springing to his hooves, knocking the contents of a half-empty mug of lukewarm cider over the table, Reggie gestured into the air. “Everything!” he blurted out. “Everything you just told me. Is that really how it all happened?”

Rapidfire nodded and caught a rag thrown from behind the bar. He started to calmly sop up the spilled drink. “I was there, kid, and the only lies I’ve told since then were lies of silence.”

“So you’re telling me that we started the war? That Equestrians were the aggressors?” The unicorn paced back and forth, his eyes locked onto the floor and his lips moving silently.

“I never said we started anything. And you’re paying extra for spilling Frank’s best brew.”

Reggie continued unfazed, “But you and Whiplash lied to Spitfire and the others. They acted on those lies. If you had told the truth then maybe the situation could have been handled without a fight; without anypony else dying.”

“Are you forgetting what those zebras were?” Rapidfire asked with a sharp glint in his eyes. He leveled the cider-soaked rag at Reggie. “They were pirates and thieves. And though Wakku said he didn’t want the title, at some point in their lives I know some of those zebras were a clear menace. Even if they only wanted the attention of the world, I can’t believe that the majority of them were really interested in a peaceful solution. I think everyone except Misty could feel that from the moment our hooves touched the deck of that ship. We didn’t want it to end the way that it did and Celestia knows we tried talking, but looking back--I honestly doubt it could have ended any other way.”

Reggie came to a halt. “So you’re saying the zebras are entirely to blame?”

“No. We might eventually have been able to reach some sort of compromise or agreement that would have satisfied both sides if we worked hard enough, but those same pirates probably would have taken their freedom and captured another ship and crew. By caving in and negotiating we might have proven that their method of extortion worked. There might have been fewer casualties that day and maybe that would have changed things down the line, but maybe not.”

“So then whose fault was it really?”

Rapidfire shrugged. “What does it matter?”

“It matters!” Reggie slid back into his chair. “Ponies all have different ideas as to why the war started in the first place. A lot have forgotten what it was like before it began. Foals have been born and are starting to grow up having not known peace at all in their lives. What are we supposed tell them when they ask questions about whom and why?”

“Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it; that’s what you’re getting at, right? You’re worried about about who or what we’re going to tell our children are to blame for all these deaths?” The aging pegasus tossed the cider-soaked rag back to Frank and rose from his seat for the first time that evening. He carefully walked around the table until he was standing only inches from Reggie and leaned down. “Who gives a flying feather!” The unicorn fell backwards out of his seat as he involuntarily jerked away from the pegasus.

“Do you really want the next generation taught to place blame or render judgment upon an entire race based on the actions and misdeeds of a few? It might pain some ponies to admit it, but not all zebras are the monsters from the propaganda posters. Some of them deserve that label, but I don’t really think a legacy of assumptions is what you or I want to leave behind.” He bucked one of the chairs and sent it slamming against a wall. Frank continued to work calmly behind the bar while Rapidfire went on.

“If you want to blame Whiplash for saying Misty’s death was murder, go ahead. You want to blame me for not speaking up? You couldn’t say anything to me that I haven’t already beat into my own heart. How about we get a zebra shaman in here to conjure up the spirits of those pirates and put them on trial with Luna, the Caesar, the Ministry Mares, and every zebra politician we can round up? Tell me when to stop because I can come up with names to blame all night long. Is that the path you want us all to go down? You want future generations to keep a list of ponies and zebras and whoever else so they can blame all their problems on someone else?”

Reggie shook his head.

Rapidfire stood still and silent for a few moments, taking time to compose himself before speaking again. “Besides, the asinine decisions over coal imports and gem exports had more to do with this war in the long term than what happened onboard a single ship. That’s not the Ministry line that I’ve had to tow ever since, but it’s what I believe and I’m through being silent. What happened that day may have provided fuel for the fire but common sense and decency were already on the chopping block. That day on those ships made that much apparent to me.”

There were no sounds, no talking, for a long time except for Frank coming around to put the chair which had received Rapidfire’s attention back in its place. “I’m closing up in a minute,” Frank said.

“Alright,” Rapidire sighed, rubbing his temples before inspecting the chair he had kicked for damage. “Thanks for sticking around and letting a friend gab on all night.”

Reggie gathered his pad and pencil as Rapidfire pushed the chair back into place. Together they headed for the door and the unicorn spoke softly as the pair neared the exit. “Did you ever tell Spitfire what happened with Misty Fly?”

“Of course I did.”

“And? How did that go over? What did she do with Whiplash?”

“She threw him out of the Wonderbolts. Did the same to me. He was tossed out for conduct unbecoming of a Wonderbolt officer in connection with public comments he made later about Roam and the Caesar. With my injury, there was a medical discharge coming my way regardless, and that’s what it says in my official record, but she made it perfectly clear to me the real reason why I wasn’t going to fly with her anymore. She couldn’t trust somepony that didn’t have the courage to stand up to her.” Rapidfire stopped short as he reached the door. “I should have said something. It was my duty to speak up, and I failed.” He took a long look back into the room. “And that wasn’t even the worst part.”

“She never told anyone else about what happened,” Reggie guessed.

“Eyep. She acted on what Whiplash told her was the truth. If I hadn’t had a moment of indecision down in that hold, I might have been able to race topside and stop whoever ignited the whole thing. If she had told the brass that Whiplash had lied or that I had withheld what I knew, we’d both still be in the Canterlot dungeons. Instead, she let the report stand. The pirates were blamed for instigating the fight and Spitfire took responsibility for our four deaths.” He met Reggie’s eyes with a look that was softer than it had been all evening.

“I broke part of my oath to the Wonderbolts, as well as my pledge of honesty to Spitfire. I think that hurt more than my wing ever did; knowing and believing that I had a hoof in creating a terrible situation, but never getting punished for it because the mare in charge took all the blame for her team.”

“Isn’t that kind of what a leader is supposed to do?”

Rapidfire nodded his head. “Yeah.” And then, he smiled. “But it’s also what a friend did too.” Together, the two stallions pushed through the door, crossed the threshold, and stepped out into the warm night air, the scents of summer and city street mingling in a melange of odors old and new.

Reggie offered a hoof and Rapidfire, after a brief pause, shook it firmly. “Thank you for telling me your story.”

“You’re not the first to figure out that something about the official story didn’t make sense, but you’re the only one who I let stick around to hear the whole thing. The others either wrote me off as a mopey old mule or rendered their own judgement halfway into the story. I called it quits on them before I got to the end. ”

Reggie dropped the hoof and gave the pegasus a hard look. “Rapidfire, your actions or inactions are your own to judge. I can’t tell you what to think or how to feel, but, in my opinion, you weren’t the cause of anything.”

The pegasus snorted but he did so with that lopsided smirk that a passerby might have recognized from an old Wonderbolts poster. “Curse you to be Cerberus’ chew-toy for eternity kid, but thanks all the same.” He turned and started to walk away but stopped and turned back after only a dozen paces. “Why don’t you come back tomorrow night. I’ll buy the cider and you can tell me a story about your life.” He wore what could never be mistaken for anything but a genuine grin.

Reggie returned the grin and nodded. “You have a deal.”