Celestia didn’t know how she’d come to be wandering that desert. One moment she was just there, as if it were a dream. But it clearly wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t long before she doubted her odds of surviving. Her magic was gone and showed no signs returning. Her ethereal mane had faded into ordinary hair. Her wings retained their strength but without magic were fully useless.
It didn’t make sense; Celestia was a creature more magic than flesh. How was she still herself? For that matter, how was she still alive?
This wasn’t Equestria. It couldn’t be Equus. A cruelly bright yellow sun hung low in the sky, which was clear and blue. The sand beneath her hooves was scalding hot even through gilded shoes. The dunes were broad and uniform. There were no cliffs nor boulders or shrubbery. Nothing broke the terrain enough to provide any shade. What few gusts of wind blew were scorching.
She was as mortal as she had been many thousands of years ago and already she was dying. Yet millenniums worth of composure forbid panic. She kept moving at a steady pace. She would delay the inevitable as long as she could. Her ponies depended on her so much. Too much. She would not betray them by giving up. Twilight and Luna were capable princesses, but they carried their own burdens. Celestia would carry hers.
She plodded on for over an hour, keeping to the tops of the dunes to maximize visibility. Her regalia was swiftly discarded, though she kept the golden shoes. What little protection they offered was better than nothing.
She smelled the creature before she saw it. It was easy to notice strange scents here. Sweat that wasn’t hers. Faintly masculine. Leather. Rubber. A small host of inorganic chemicals. Quite a bit of anxiety, she thought, or maybe excitement. It was a combo she might have tried to avoid under other circumstances. But it was alive! Something was alive out here and it didn’t smell like a predator.
She honed in and saw it before it saw her, standing atop a large dune. It was tall, perhaps as tall as herself. Bipedal. Maybe a bit lanky or wiry, it was hard to tell. It looked to be armored, or at least heavily clothed. It looked more like a someone than a something, she thought. That was what mattered.
She slowly made her approach. By now her whole coat was matted and her mane dripping with sweat. All her joints were sore and her whole body protested for want of refreshment. She didn’t know what to expect from the alien. Direction, maybe. Information of some kind. Help. She needed help.
She didn’t say anything and for a long while it didn’t notice her. The sand was more than deep enough to muffle her hoofsteps. Meanwhile the creature was busying itself with a pair of binoculars, scanning what might have been the eastern horizon. She was tempted to compare the thing to a Minotaur, but it clearly wasn’t. It stood straighter on long booted feet and its shape was much more narrow. Was it a monkey?
She couldn’t imagine why it needed so much clothing, especially out in the desert. It seemed like almost every inch of its body was covered by something. It looked like it was wearing a uniform of some kind. The articles themselves were mostly familiar if seldom seen in Equestria. Breeches. A heavy coat. Gloves. None of it looked suited to the climate. A robe would have made more sense. There was also kind of helmet. Was it a soldier?
“Hey!” it barked. It had a youngish, masculine tone, somewhat deeper than a typical pony stallion. He unslung something from his back and held it in both hands. She didn’t know what it was exactly but the princess knew a weapon when she saw one. It was probably some kind of cannon. It was safe to assume she was in danger even at this distance. “I don’t take strays,” the creature said. It… he?.. sounded almost concerned.
Maybe it doesn’t want to fight?
“Wait,” Celestia replied “I’m lost. I need help.” There was a long pause, during which his eyes seemed to move over her.
“Yeah?” he said warily.
“Yes.”
Another pause. “What are you?”
“A pony.” She didn’t bother returning the question yet. She didn’t feel she was in the best position to ask questions. She could feel blisters forming all down her right flank. The longer she survived the more she’d have a chance to learn. She was out of her element in this place, and she knew it. Humility and cunning were the only cards she had to play.
There was another pause. “Yeah?” he repeated in the same suspicious tone.
“Does… that mean anything to you?”
“No.” He sighed. “You from here?”
“No,” she said. “I don’t know where I am.”
He sighed again and lowered the weapon. “Fine, c’mon. Up here.” He set the cannon down and knelt to begin rummaging through the large pack. “Don’t try anything.”
“I won’t,” she answered and began her way up the slope. He watched her. Once she reached the top he stood, looking her in the face intently. He had a pale, flat, oval shaped face. His features were pronounced but mostly familiar, perhaps vaguely simian. He looked to be on the young side but really it was impossible to tell. He was carrying what looked like a canteen in one gloved hand. She could hear liquid sloshing around inside as he paced slowly around her.
Celestia just stood there, letting herself be examined, as if by a strange dog. She noticed a long dagger sheathed at his waist, along with a holster for what was probably another firearm. Whatever this creature was it was prepared to fight a war. Perhaps a war the likes of which Equestria had never seen. Strangely, it didn’t appear to be wearing any armor besides the oddly shaped and very practical steel helmet.
He stopped in front of her. “Huh.” He risked a short pull from his canteen, though he eyed her as if expecting an attack. It didn’t come. He sighed again. “Okay,” he said dejectedly. “Gimme’ a moment. He bent to retrieve something from the large pack and produced a tightly rolled grey blanket. “You’re pretty cooked,” he said, tromping over to her side. “This might make you a bit hotter, but it’ll keep the sun off.” He unrolled the blanket and carefully draped it over her, tugging at the corners to smooth it out. It was just big enough to cover her flanks. At least so long as she kept her wings tightly folded beneath it.
“Thank you,” she said, not trying to hide her gratitude. The relief was partial but immediate and she made no attempt to disguise it. This sun certainly wasn’t like her own. The light itself was... venomous. It penetrated deeply. Even if she found proper shelter soon it might be too late.
“Wings, huh? Can you fly?”
“No.” Celestia didn’t elaborate. It was true enough, at least in this context. There was no sense revealing any more than she had to. That was rule number one of being a ruler of Equestria.
“I guess not. I’m not letting you keep that, by the way.”
“Alright,” Celestia said, not sure what he exactly meant by that. He wouldn’t just take the blanket while she still needed it, would he? She couldn’t stop him if he wanted to.
Instead he spent the next few minutes just rummaging through his giant backpack. Occasionally he’d retrieve an item to examine. A shovel. A compass. Socks. A first aid kit. Other things Celestia didn’t recognize. Then he’d smile and mutter something like “Wow, I can’t believe it”. It was like he’d never seen these things before, or hadn’t expected to ever see them again. It was like watching a foal open presents on Hearthswarming Eve.
“Where are we?” she interrupted.
He glanced around, as if hoping to spot a landmark that would help to answer her question. “Tho’ok,” he said confidently. “Dreamtime. I think. You don’t live here?”
“No, I don’t know why I’m here. What is it?”
“What...do you remember doing last?”
“I…” she spent a moment searching her thoughts. Trying to recall anything from the past twelve hours was surprisingly difficult, like the images were slippery. “I… went to sleep! This is a dream?”
“No,” he said “It’s the Dreamtime. We’re both asleep, but uh, our souls are here. Until we wake up.”
This was getting to be too much. Or almost. Celestia had never heard about anything like this happening before. It had certainly never happened to herself or anypony she had ever known. Luna hadn’t ever talked about it and she was supposed to be the expert.
What circumstance made it possible? Why now? Why not five thousand years ago? Why not eight thousand? What had changed to make an alicorn Princess vulnerable in her own bed? Had she made the journey herself? Spells to bore a path through undimensioned space certainly existed. Was she casting forbidden magic… in her sleep?
One thing was certain: this was not a dream. Not an ordinary dream, at least. The pain she was experiencing was too visceral. Celestia thought back to all the times her own ignorance had shown, especially over the course of recent years. She didn’t know everything. Not about Equus or about Equestria. Not even about herself.
Here she was. She could take the word of a stranger if she had to.
“How?”
“I dunno,” the soldier said quite casually. “It happens. Odd about you, though. This is Earth’s Dreamtime.”
“Earth,” she repeated.
“It’s where I’m from. I’m a… human. Mean anything to you?” He glanced up at her for an instant, eyeing for a reaction.
“No, it doesn’t” she answered. “Is that why we can understand each other?”
“Yeah,” he replied. He sounded impressed. “I think so. Something like that. I don’t really know how it works. Can’t complain.” He sneezed into his gloved hands.
“How do we wake up?” Celestia asked.
“We wait,” the human said.
“How long?”
He didn’t answer immediately. “It could take a long time.”
“How long?”
Another brief pause. “Years. Decades. People spend lifetimes in the Dream. Time works different. Honestly, we’ll probably die first.”
That was something to think about.
“What… happens if we die?”
“We’re naked souls, here,” he said. “Maybe we find a way back to our bodies. Maybe we don’t.”
That was something else to think about. Or to avoid thinking about.
“Then… may I please have some of your water? I’m not ready to die. I have responsibilities. I promise... to do whatever I can to help you in return.”
“Gimme’ a minute,” he said, still rummaging. There must have been eighty pounds of assorted bric-a-brac in that satchel. There was no way he’d be taking it all with him in a place like this. Maybe he’d leave his arsenal behind. Or maybe splitting the load was how she could repay him.
“How do you have all these things?” Celestia queried. It seemed awfully convenient.
This time the answer came quickly. “Conditioning,” the human said. “You come with what you expect to have.”
“Has… this happened to you before?”
“No… but it happens. We train for it.”
At this she was tempted to ask about her magic, but that would be revealing more than she probably should. And in any case she thought she knew the answer to that question already. Pony magic was tied to Equus. The rules would be different here. It was merciful enough that she could exist in this reality at all.
The human’s explanation made a kind of sense. There was obviously a type of magic at work here. If it was somehow tied to dreaming and the subconscious then it was easy to imagine it reproducing familiar items. The more familiar the better, probably.
“Aha!” he exclaimed rapturously. “Yes! Wow, I cannot believe it.” He produced a brassy instrument from somewhere deep in the pack and began showering it with kisses. When he laughed it was almost maniacal, though mostly an affectation. He stood, allowing Celestia a better look at the thing. It was rectangular with a pair of wooden handles, a series of small dials and switches, and a meter of sorts with two spindles.
“What is it?”
He beamed at her in response. “Mini-scry.”
“What does it do?”
“Let’s me cheat,” the human said grinning, as if that was all the explanation she needed. He was already fiddling with the controls, to which the device responded by emitting quiet whistles and clicks. He pumped his fist, and for a moment looked like he was almost about to dance.
“Alright,” he said, seeming to come to his senses. “Alright, let’s see, uh…” He hooked the instrument to his belt where it continued to faintly chirp and squeal erratically. “Okay, time to celebrate.” He unhooked the canteen he’d been sipping and twisted off the cap. He took a short pull then offered it to her, holding it aloft as if he meant for her to suckle.
That would have been doable except that he refused to let her lips actually touch the bottle. Whenever she tried he simply backed of, chiding her like a misbehaving animal. “Nooo, nooo…” So be it. He poured and she lapped at the falling stream as thoroughly as she could. It was wasteful but she could hardly think to complain. It was water. Flat. Stale. Warm. Still more delicious than it had any right to be.
To the human’s credit he went very slow and careful, not drizzling any more than she could manage in one gulp. And he was generous, not stopping the flow until the whole jug was almost empty. She was nearly out of breath when he finished. It was many years since she’d felt relief like this, and some hours since she’d dared to hope for herself.
For a time she kept her eyes shut, hiding the veil of moisture forming on them. That settled it, then, Celestia thought. She had found a kind soul. Impressive considering she was only here for three hours. Maybe there was a chance now. Maybe now she could be less guarded around the creature, more herself. This strange pony-like thing couldn’t be her enemy. It wanted her to live!
“Thank you,” she sighed, panting softly. “Thank you so much.”
“It’s alright,” he said, gently patting the side her neck. “We’re close. There’ll be more.”
“Really?” she panted. “You know where we are?”
“No. But my people come through here sometimes. It’s a... shortcut. Good news for me is I just talk to someone here, they get a message back home, someone taps me on the shoulder, I wake up. Don’t know about you though. Think you might be on your own after that, assuming we don’t die. Sorry.”
“It’s alright,” she said, finally regaining her breath. “Thank you. So,” she sighed, not particularly understanding, but not feeling the need to press for information. “What do we call each other?”
“Ritter,” the human answered after a pause. “G. Archivist. You?”
“Tia,” Celestia said after another pause. It was closer to the truth than she otherwise might have dared.
I’m NOT being paranoid! I’m not!
And she wasn’t. Fact of the matter was these sort of things didn’t just happen. They were always engineered. She knew that better than most. Someone or something WANTED her to be here, wanted her vulnerable and out of the way. She had to know more. She needed to learn as much as she could without drawing attention to herself.
It wasn’t as if she felt guilty. The whole truth wasn’t likely to profit her savior much, if at all. Her own ponies knew scarce little about her and that was for the best. She would do what she could to repay Ritter’s kindness in some more meaningful way. That would have to be enough.
“Hello, Tia,” Ritter said. He’d removed his helmet and was massaging his sweat-soaked scalp with one hand. He had dark, curly brown hair cropped very short. “You’re very pretty. Bit saccharine, honestly.”
I get that, she wanted to say, but didn’t.
At last it was time to go. Ritter didn’t ask her to carry much beside a few articles of clothing. A sizeable portion of the equipment he’d unpacked was simply abandoned out of necessity, mostly items Celestia didn’t recognize. By now they were both thoroughly drenched in sweat. Ritter in particular looked like he’d been swimming with his tunic and breeches on. What skin was visible was already starting to blister, yet he remained in good spirits.
“How far is it?” Celestia asked as they began walking. Mercifully they seemed to be heading north-east, which kept the worst of the late afternoon sun out of their faces.
“About an hour,” Ritter said. “This way. Unless the signal starts moving.” He took a long pull from the canteen then hooked it to his belt. “Keep your eyes open.”
********
They saw it from a long way off; a shapeless matte-black hulk resting on the horizon. “Looks like an airship,” Ritter commented. Celestia would have to take his word for it. As they approached she could tell it was nothing like the aircraft her ponies fancied. There were no lift chambers visible, just two colossal airfoils atop a bulbous fuselage some eight stories tall. ‘Bulbous’ was certainly the word she would choose.
“It looks like a potato,” Celestia said in a moment of frank incredulity.
Ritter flashed her a manic smile but didn't say anything.
The hull bristled with protrusions like the delicate hairs of a balding insect. Celestia could only guess at their purpose, though it seemed obvious that several were large embedded cannons. On closer inspection there was a block of white text on the port and starboard side of the bloated bow. At first Celestia couldn’t read the unfamiliar characters. They must have been enormous, but the paint was badly weathered. Then as she looked they seemed to blur and scramble for an instant. ‘LUX KOENIG’ was the message revealed, though she no more understood it than previously.
It would be many decades before Equestria could produce anything like this ‘LUX KOENIG’. Longer if Celestia had ought to say. At least the odds of that happening were better now than they had been. Celestia could only hope her injuries weren’t quite as bad they felt, but she knew better. Anypony else in her position would need to at least visit a burn ward. Right now she would have happily settled for more to drink.
“Oh no,” Ritter moaned from up ahead. “Ohhhh no.” Celestia thought she knew what he meant. The closer they came to the leviathan the more apparent it was abandoned. It was impossible to say for how long. What few windows she could see were so scoured by sand they were nearly opaque. The row of nine stupendous rubber tires -each the size of a small house- were all deflated. No sounds came from inside the derelict.
The pair didn’t stop until they at last rounded the bulk of the towering stern with its stubby tail section. Here a vast hydraulic loading ramp had been dropped and was now half buried in driven sand. It let them up into a dark and cavernous space where the clanking of Celestia’s hooves rang sharply. Almost the moment the two were inside they nearly collapsed against the iron bulkhead. Ritter dropped his helmet and backpack as casually as if it were rubbish, each making loud echoing clangs.
“What… what is this?” Celestia heaved.
“Vehicle bay,” Ritter wheezed in return. “Looks like they took the corvettes… everything… must of abandoned ship… god damn it… god damn it, years ago.”
“Why?”
“I dunno…” Ritter said. “I dunno, sandstorm maybe. Fuel leak. Doesn’t matter.” He took a long, long pull from the second canteen and offered the rest to her. This time Celestia took it in her hooves. Ritter looked surprised but didn’t fight her. He merely watched curiously as she inhaled what was left.
“Thank you,” Celestia breathed again and set the empty vessel down.
“Doesn’t matter,” Ritter mumbled. “We’re probably still dead. Probably.”
Celestia took a moment to compose herself. She spoke plainly. “I can’t afford to die here, Ritter.”
“Oh?” Ritter said. He flashed her a playful but inquisitive glance.
“I have…children. They need me.” It was a true enough answer and Ritter seemed to consider it. Celestia paused for a response. None came. “Please,” she continued “tell me you have a plan.”
Outside it seemed as if the cruel alien sun was finally going down. Shadows lengthened and a warm breeze started to pick up. Ritter yawned deeply. He stripped off his gloves and spent a moment running his hands through his hair. “I do, actually,” he said, reaching for his pack. He produced a bulky electric torch and proceeded to survey the room with a wide beam of yellow light.
Celestia quailed. It was an intimidating space of coarse filthy metal with a lattice of narrow catwalks. The floor was mostly vacant while the ceiling was hung with many dozen long, heavy iron chains. The port and starboard walls were lined with skeletal supports which gave the impression of being inside a giant rib cage. It had a nightmarish quality to it, she thought. Form was so given over to function that it possessed a kind of wilful ugliness.
“I had an office on a ship like this,” Ritter said, still scanning. “There should be an alternator core, somewhere. So long as they didn’t scuttle it, it should still work. I can probably turn on the lights, maybe get this door shut. If we get power then I can go up to the bridge and start a distress call. If they did a proper scuttle job we’re dead, but maybe they half-assed it.”
“What about food? Water?”
“We can tap the dehumidifier in the core. If that runs out maybe I can tap the radiators. Nasty but it should be okay. There’s no way the food is still good. It’ll just be what I’ve got with me.”
“What do you have?”
“Protein bombs. Maybe enough for about a week. Are you hungry?”
“Yes,” she answered.
Ritter sighed. “Yeah. First things first.” He rummaged some more and produced what looked like a bar of lime green soap from a small package. “You can take off the blanket.” Celestia took the hint, pulling the heavy covering off with her teeth. Dragging the course wool across her burned flanks recalled how tender they’d become. She grimaced in spite of herself. Ritter twisted the chemical bar in his hands, causing it to effortlessly snap in two. This triggered a reaction of some sort, causing both pieces to foam and hiss. He applied one to the exposed skin on his face and neck which had been singed bright pink. Celestia noticed that one of his simian ears was actually bleeding.
Ritter winced, inhaling softly through gritted teeth. But since he’d been wearing the pony equivalent of a circus tent it didn’t take long to apply the lather to all his burns. “Your turn,” he said, and bid her lay down straighter and further from the wall so he could reach. “This will hurt a little, at first,” he said “but it should help a lot with the sunburn. Alright?”
“Alright,” she consented. Ritter gave her a moment to brace herself. He applied the froth very slowly at first. It did sting, especially against the places where blisters were literally oozing through her coat. But the pain quickly subsided, replaced by a cool, filmy stiffness. It must have been menthol or some other numbing agent at work along with concentrated aloe vera. Ritter was meticulous, massaging the bubbling chemical soup into her fur with gentle, circular motions. Nearly her entire body had been cooked, some areas much worse than others. Her ears in particular felt like strips of bloody bacon. It took Ritter every last drop of salve to finish painting her. “Thank you so much,” she said, more than once. Each time he frankly dismissed her with a simple “It’s alright.”
It was dark now and the wind was beginning to whistle ominously. It felt as if the temperature was dropping. Celestia couldn’t help wonder whether her would-be savior had been wasting time dressing her wounds instead of preparing their shelter. Ritter looked out into the night and swore under his breath. Perhaps he was thinking the same thing. There was something unnatural about this darkness. Something almost predatory. The cruel sun and cold, empty sky offered much the same impression.
“Ritter,” Celestia broached “are we in danger?”
“Matter of course,” he mumbled. “I mean, probably. Let’s get inside, hide out in a corner somewhere.”
********
The floor of the small room was less grimy than the hangar, for which Celestia was thankful. They were sequestered behind a heavy iron door in a very tiny cabin with two collapsible (collapsed) wall-mounted bunks like those of a dungeon cell. They hadn’t gone far into the narrow bowels of the ship to find it. The interior of the great beast showed far fewer signs of aging than the sandblasted exterior. There couldn’t have been more than five years of neglect, Celestia hazarded. But then again, what did she know? The spartan furnishings were certainly NOT in working order and the creaking hatch was monstrously difficult for Ritter to pull closed.
“What if it doesn’t open?”
“Fuck.”
That was how that exchange went. Ritter didn’t even bother determining whether they were trapped. “It would just spoil the mystery,” he spat dryly. Celestia tried not to imagine what it would be like if either of them urgently needed to find a restroom during the night. They would have to use the small basin in the corner.
Fortunately the two thin mattresses still functioned as mattresses. There wasn’t even anything living in them, though that wasn’t too surprising. This whole world might have been sterile for all they knew. Meager light was provided by a sizzling emergency flair as well as Ritter’s anbaric torch when it was vital. No moon or stars shown through the open porthole. Outside was a jet black void and the breeze fluttering in was very chilly.
Princess Celestia laid with her back to the wall, the mattresses spread beneath her. The space was so cramped there wasn’t even room to lay them both completely flat. It was just as well; the stiff, utilitarian cushions benefited from layering up. All in all the arrangement could have been much worse. Ritter lay pressed up beside her as if he were an overgrown foal, his balled-up jacket serving as a pillow. The lifesaving woolen blanket was almost big enough for the two of them, according to optimism. Ritter was certainly the warmer of the pair, but that was just how the dice landed. Celestia knew better than to complain; it would be entirely ungrateful and achieve nothing.
They were both reasonably well fed and watered given the circumstances. Here too Celestia was likely fairing somewhat worse than Ritter, considering the “food” -a lump of cold molecules with the consistency of expired taffy- was meant for an alien digestive tract. Of course ponies needed protein and carbohydrates too but it remained to be seen whether the proportions were agreeable. At least it didn’t make her more thirsty.
“Tomorrow I can try running a siphon through the reservoir in the core,” Ritter said, almost wistfully. He seemed to be musing, mostly to himself. “Might even be enough for a quick shower. God, I hope so. You know that spread is supposed to come off after like eight hours. Be nice to wash that gunk off, I bet. For you, I mean.”
“I would like that,” replied Celestia in a mellow, sleepy haze. It was true. The soapy film Ritter applied had hardened into something like wax that started to flake and crumble. It was nasty but still blissfully cool and numb.
The chemical flair hissed out. Relative silence lengthened. Minutes later they were both asleep. In Celestia’s case it wasn’t a very sound sleep. Yet there was a strange paralytic depth to it, almost as if she were drugged. A thin semi-conscious sliver of her mind considered the possibility. She didn’t know what else might have been in that salve, or the food for that matter. She hadn’t bothered to press for details. What would have been the point?
Outside the cold breeze gradually devolved into a raging sandstorm. It would have been convenient to close the porthole but that risked suffocating in the sealed cabin. There was a vent in the ceiling but Ritter professed not to trust it while the power was off.
Princess Celestia was normally a very light sleeper. Despite her oppressive stupor she half woke several times throughout the night. She thought she heard… something. Something unsettling. A faint whistling. Whirring. Warbling even, the likes of which she’d never encountered before. She couldn't quite tell whether it was inside the cabin or not. It might have been the wind… or it might have been nothing at all. She almost didn’t care. By the morning she had forgotten entirely.
Author's Note
For all intents and purposes this chapter took about fifteen years to write. I have quite a few more in the works, but how much and what sort of feedback I get on this one will largely determine whether they show up here. So, whether you like it or dislike it, you -yes, you- have the power to make or break this project forever. YOU HAVE THE POWER!
Ritter slipped out into the corridor, flashlight in hand. This time the door swung almost effortlessly, much to Celestia’s relief. He shut it behind him, presumably confident she could work the handle by herself if she needed to. It was still dark, but it felt like it must be early morning. Celestia’s bones ached as if she’d slept for a very long time and the wailing storm was now a gently moaning breeze. Inside the cabin it was nearly frigid. Celestia thought she would relish being able to hog the blanket but getting back to sleep was impossible.
She occupied herself by stretching and walking in place. She was thirsty and the urge to relieve herself was growing, but wandering in the dark would be pointless. Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. At last after some forty minutes her meditation was broken by a soft clicking from above. Dim yellow light started to fill the room from a small domed fixture embedded in the ceiling. It grew brighter as the bulb inside heated up, though the current seemed a tad unstable.
She chanced a peek outside. The narrow corridor was gloomy but no longer pitch black. She could hear a faint sporadic thumping and squelching accompanied by gentle vibrations. It was as if the huge machine was meekly struggling to life, or stubbornly holding onto it. That was Ritter’s doing, obviously. What exactly did he intend to do? For that matter what was he capable of doing? It would be something else if he could somehow make the LUX KOENIG airworthy again, but Celestia wasn’t holding her breath.
The human was only gone a few more minutes. When he returned she noticed he was carrying both the canteens, one in hand, the other on his belt. They looked heavy. He wore a distant, thoughtful expression and something about the way he carried himself betrayed anxiety. Without saying anything he handed her the canteen and slumped tiredly against the bulkhead. He unhooked the canteen from his belt and took a long pull then fished around in his satchel for a protein bomb. He tore at the package with his teeth and began eating as if he were famished.
“Are you alright?”
“Hmm?” he mumbled, his mouth full. “Mmph. I jus’ never had to mesh’ ‘vith an alternator before.” He made an effort to swallow and spent a moment licking his lips sucking the rancid putty out of his teeth. “I’m trying not to get my hopes up. I had to er on the side of… not blowing up the ship. But, uh, now maybe I can start the ventilation working and we won’t… actually cook, tomorrow. Today. I mean, upstairs. Gods it’s going to be way too hot. Like an oven, up there. When the sun comes up. Just something I’m glad I thought of.”
That made some sense at least. In the kind of temperatures they’d experienced yesterday the upper floors -or decks, rather- could act like a big iron hothouse.
“What about you?” Ritter said, seeming a little more buoyant. Celestia was somewhat taken aback by this. It recalled a painful memory.
“I thought, maybe if I went to sleep… I’d be back.”
Ritter shook his head slowly. “It doesn’t work like that.”
Celestia nodded slowly. “No,” she said softly. “I suppose not.”
“Sorry.”
“It's alright,” was all Celestia could say. For the moment she had other priorities, namely food and a full canteen. She quickly undid the cap with her teeth and started to chug. She swallowed several mouthfuls of warm water before having a chance to chance to taste it. The next mouthful she very aggressively expelled.
“Uaghhh!” she exclaimed. Celestia the Princess wasn’t known for melodramatic outbursts, but for the moment that Celestia was missing. “Ohhh! Oh, it’s so metallic! Augh, it’s been sitting in a rusty tank for years!” She held the neck of the bottle up to her nose for a hard sniff. The scent confirmed her suspicions. The water wasn’t foul at least, but flat as Tartarus and swimming with corrosion.
Ritter’s smile was pained. “That’s what I was able to get off the top.” he muttered, looking down. "It’ll be worse the more we draw. I think it’s safe, though. I mean mostly safe. I added chlorine just in case. You can’t taste it.”
Celestia forced down a few more pained gulps. She coughed and sputtered when she next spoke. “What about washing?” Ritter looked thoughtful for a moment.
“I think we need to wait and see how much is in the radiators. Gods, this has been such a run of good luck I’m just waiting for something to try and kill me.”
“Is that… normal, here?”
“Yes,” Ritter said emphatically. “Gods, the things you have to watch out for in a place like this. There still might be something living here. I mean in here.”
Several minutes passed in silence while the two ate and drank. Outside it looked like dawn was finally breaking. “Ritter,” Celestia said in a tone of concern “I’m eating your food. I’m drinking your wastewater. I’m probably slowing you down. What can I do? What can I actually do to help you?”
Ritter seemed to consider this for a moment. “Just watch my back,” he said in a tone that suggested he couldn’t think of anything else. “It’s like I was saying, it’s better not to be alone here. All you need to do is keep your eyes open and tell me if you see anything.”
Celestia pondered this briefly. “Is that why you’ve kept me around?”
“A little bit,” he said bluntly. “I dunno’. To be honest I’m still not one hundred percent sure I can even trust you. Yet,” he added as a polite afterthought.
Celestia was both confused and ever-so-slightly injured by this remark. “Why?”
“You’re very pretty,” Ritter said distantly, staring at his booted feet as he gently tapped his toes on the floor. “Very sickly sweet, and that’s never a good sign. Never. Well… basically never. Not… not under… not the way things are right now.”
Celestia continued to speak plainly. “If you don’t trust me, why are you so kind? Why are you helping me?” Once again Ritter took a few moments to answer, and he still refused to meet her gaze.
“I had to,” he murmured pensively. He struck a thoughtful pose with his chin resting on his knuckles, finally looking her in the face. “I had to,” he sighed. “Couldn’t just blow you down on sight; had to give you a chance.” He gave her a warm, awkward smile. “And you haven’t gored me to do death with your face yet, so. Progress.”
Author's Note
Decided to keep it short this time, to compensate for my bookishness. Let me know what you think, if you would be so kind. My thanks in advance.
